I’d filled a shallow plastic storage box with birdseed. The kids took turns rolling their pinecones around and around in the birdseed. Polly and I helped them slide their finished birdfeeders into zip-lock bags, so that no SUVs would be harmed on the homeward ride.

Chapter Sixteen

Polly and I were sitting in our student-less classroom, making our own pinecone birdfeeders with the rest of the suet and birdseed. Instead of carefully using a spatula for the suet the way we’d instructed the kids, we were going at it with our hands full throttle.

“I bet this stuff is really good for dry skin,” Polly said as she rubbed her suet-covered hands together. “And it’s so much more dignified than playing with the Play-Doh.”

“Plus, we might as well use it up,” I said. “Not that I’m a suet expert, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t keep that long.”

A vision of my father descending the stairs last night flashed before my eyes. “Hey, I just have to ask you. My father hasn’t been pestering you, has he?”

Polly waited a beat before she answered. “Of course not. He’s adorable.”

I watched her, shrugged. “Okay then, three good things that happened today.”

Polly found our classroom notebook and managed to pick up a pen without it slipping out of her greasy hand. “One, there was a noticeable absence of name-calling today, even at recess.”

I nodded. “Always a good thing.”

“Two,” Polly continued. “Josiah didn’t play bongo drums on his privates and sing bababoo once today.”

“Babaloo,” I said. “You know, like Ricky Ricardo used to sing when he played the bongos on I Love Lucy? Anyway, that’s definitely a good thing. I always think the other kids didn’t even notice, but then it turns out that they were only waiting until they get home to try it out at the dinner table.”

Polly worked her slippery fingers to a better grip on her pen. “And three—”

Lorna poked her head through our doorway. “If I’m late for the staff meeting, then you two are going to be seriously late. Which will really help me out a lot, so thanks for that.”

Lorna disappeared. Polly and I looked at each other.

I shook my head. “What kind of animal schedules a teachers’ meeting on the Monday after Thanksgiving?”

Polly and I race-walked through the hallways, wiping our hands with scratchy institutional paper towels, birdseed trailing behind us.

I glanced over my shoulder. “Well, at least we won’t have any trouble finding our way back to the classroom again.”

We caught up to Lorna outside the all-purpose room. I thought we had enough speed going that we might even pass her, but she gave us a quick smirk and beat us through the door.

Polly stepped back to let me walk in before her.