The cool breeze flowed around
her, soothing her frazzled nerves.
Sheila fingered the pile of papers on her desk then flopped against the
chair back. What a hectic first week of school!
Glancing at the clock, she
scooped up the papers, plopped them into
the drawer, and clicked it shut. They could wait until tomorrow. As she
gathered her purse and satchel, she stopped. Why rush home? What was
there? Empty rooms in an empty house void of love.
“Hey, Mrs. P!”
“Hello, Hank. How are you this
afternoon?” His cheerful, easygoing manner dispelled the gloom in her
“Doin’ good, Mrs. P.” Hank
tipped the small trash can into the
large cart, tapping it with minimal clattering. Sheila smiled as Hank’s
worn Keds tapped in rhythm to the tune he hummed. She recognized Lloyd
Price’s hit “Personality.” Hank’s slicked-back hair—all the rage at the
moment—refused to stay in place as he dashed around the room.
“I finally found a car. Well,
it’s almost a car. I’m tradin’ work
at Mr. Simmons’s garage for parts, then I’ll fix ’er up myself. She’s a
beaut! A ’54 Corvette. I’ll bring her by when she’s done.” Enthusiasm
spilled through his words.
“Isn’t that the year Corvettes
had some real troubles?” She worried
the inside of her lip with the question. What if he’d been talked into
buying a lemon?