“Did you keep drawing this summer?” “Yes’m.” “May I see your pictures or are they private?” Jess shoved his hair off his red forehead.
“I’ll show you ’em.” She smiled her beautiful even-toothed smile and shook her shining black hair back off her shoulders.
“Great!” she said. “See you.” He nodded and smiled back.
Even his toes had felt warm and tingly. Now as he sat on the rug in the teachers’ room,
the same warm feeling swept through him at the sound of her voice.
Even her ordinary speaking voice bubbled up from inside her, rich and melodic.
Miss Edmunds fiddled a minute with her guitar, talking as she tightened the strings to the jingling of her bracelets and the thrumming of chords.
She was in her jeans as usual and sat there cross-legged in front of them as though that was the way teachers always did.
She asked a few of the kids how they were and how their summer had been. They kind of mumbled back.
She didn’t speak directly to Jess, but she gave him a look with those blue eyes of hers that made him zing like one of the strings she was strumming.
She took note of Leslie and asked for an introduction, which one of the girls prissily gave.
Then she smiled at Leslie, and Leslie smiled back—the first time Jess could remember seeing Leslie smile since she won the race on Tuesday.
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