Wishful and Wanton by Sylvie Haas EPUB & PDF – eBook Details
- Author: Sylvie Haas
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Series: None
- Price: Free
- File Size: 1 MB
Positioned between the broccoli cheddar soup and the minestrone, I smile at
my former English teacher and fill a cup with the latter for her.
Since I’m too chicken to get on stage at the Christmas Cherry Auction, I
figured I could help with the fundraiser by serving soup. I didn’t think about
the event being held in the high school, a place I was forced to spend one too
many semesters since I didn’t graduate when I was supposed to.
Aside from spending a few more hours in my former prison, I have to deal
with being pleasant to the teachers, when all I want to do is get away from
them. Well, some of them. Others stir thoughts in me that students aren’t
supposed to have.
Perhaps it would help if I called the auction what it is, the Christmas Cheer
Auction, and focus on raising money for the fire department, but the Cherry
nickname hits too close to home.
I wish that I had the moxie or bravado or confidence, or whatever it is that
my friends who plan on prancing across the stage have. But I don’t, so my
meager contribution to the fundraiser is soup ladling.
Another smile. Another ladle of soup.
A few of the parent attendees who recognize me as their kid’s friend make
small talk as they shuffle past.
No, I’m not home from college for winter break. No, I don’t know what I’m
going to do with my life. No, I don’t like answering invasive questions that
remind me that most of my peers graduated in the spring and moved away,
but here I am in December with no plan in sight.
The truth is that I’ve always wanted to be a mom, but since I didn’t date
any guys in high school, I might even fail at that. At least the seasonal job I
picked up as a helper at Santa’s Winter Wonderland in the mall gives me a
chance to be around kids.
Mrs. Dupree, the high school counselor, who dutifully informed me that I
wasn’t living up to my potential is next in line. Reaching for her cup, I divert
my eyes and hope she’ll pick up on the cue that I’m not in the mood for any
conversation beyond her choice of soup.
In my effort to dismiss her, my gaze lands on Coach Curtis as he rounds
the corner, one thick arm raised as he rakes his fingers through his freshly
washed hair. Perhaps it would be more appropriate for me to notice the guys
closer to my age who have just finished their weight training session, but they
might as well be invisible.
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