The clock ticked off another minute, and she took a last look around, checking for any telltale holiday paraphernalia.
Everything…looked…
No! Teddy! Teddy Ruxpin! A tiny piece of candy cane was dangling from his fuzzy bear mouth. According to Headmistress Cruzella (not her real name, but apropos, nonetheless), sugar was the worst of all sins of the young and impressionable. Sugar and processed grains were banned atModernManhattanPreparatory School, where “every mind is priceless,” and the punishment for sugar possession was a ten-minute diatribe on nutritional education.
Furiously Rebecca pulled at the sticky mess, but it wasn’t budging. No matter how hard she picked, it was still stuck.
Think, think, she just needed to think.
Okay, would anybody notice if she dumped Teddy in the trash? Probably. Ethan Wilder seemed really attached to the bear, and Ethan was Rebecca’s last, greatest hope for the next generation. It would be her luck that she’d destroy his favorite toy, and curse his life-destiny forever.
Nah. She could erase the evidence but she had to maintain an efficient calm. After eight years of dodging Cruzella’s rules and regulations, she’d gotten cocky. There was no transgression she couldn’t sweep under the rug, no institutional infraction she couldn’t whitewash away.
While keeping a careful eye on the clock, she plucked, pulled and wiped, clearing up everything but one stubborn bit of sticky candy. Eventually she knew she had no choice—Teddy was about to get buzzed. Stylishly, of course.
With bear in hand, she flew across the room, sliding to her desk in stocking feet. Right then, the door opened. As the lies sprang to her lips, Rebecca dug her shoes out of the desk while simultaneously stashing the bear behind her. Then she assumed an innocent smile, ready to face Headmistress Cruz.
Instead it was only…Natalie.
Rebecca dumped her shoes back in the drawer, and resumed breathing. “Give me a heart attack next time, will you?”
Natalie was the next-door kindergarten teacher, happily married with her first kidlet on the way, her face was always lit up brighter than a halogen bulb.
Sometimes Rebecca felt a twinge of envy, an unnecessary emotion that she rarely felt, and never admitted to. Rebecca’s life goal was to marry a Prince Charming with a twelve-cylinder steed (preferably of Italian design), and live a life of luxury with a seat on the board at the Astor Foundation, and a new, state-of-the-art, homeopathic, ultra-luxe foot spa with jets and soothing, acupressure massage nodes.
Natalie’s husband had a twelve-cylinder Jag, but Rebecca forgave her, since Natalie kept setting her up on dates with men who rated A+++ on the Rebecca Neumann Eligibility Scale. Unfortunately sparks never flew, the men were blah and something always felt wonky. But Rebecca kept trying; she had a mission.
Natalie looked at the bear, looked at the scissors, looked at Rebecca. “What are you doing?” Then she looked closer. “Candy? Peppermint candy? You’ve been at it again, haven’t you? When are you going to learn, Christmas is a hanging offense at this school. Listen, I’ll keep an eye on the door while you get rid of the evidence. You have thirteen minutes. That’s what I came to tell you. Mistress Yvette is keeping them late in French class today. Le pop quiz.”
“A votre santé, Mistress Yvette,” Rebecca murmured while efficiently trimming away the clumps of fur and tossing them into the trash.
“You’re going to die, you know that, don’t you? Cruzella catches you, and you’re dead. Sugar! Oy vey. After that last bit at Halloween, with the candy pumpkins, you’d think you’d learn your lesson, but no—”
“Keep quiet while I get the last of this.” Rebecca scanned her work, gave Teddy a sophisticated, slicked-down comb-over and threw him back into the toy bin, missing by a mile. Damn. Someday she’d master that shot.
Natalie picked up Teddy and slam-dunked the bear into the bin. “Why do you even try? You’re too short.”
“You’re too pregnant, and you can still make the shot.”
Natalie smoothed a hand over her stomach. “Yes, yes, I am, but I have the added benefit of a hormonal imbalance. Better than steroids.”
Rebecca and Natalie pulled out two pint-size chairs from the tables. Rebecca sank gratefully into the seat and began rubbing her feet, already aching with another three hours of the school-day left. It was going to be a Four Advil day. And that was on top of the Three Advil day yesterday when Mrs. Capezzio insisted that sweet Richie did not scrawl his name all over the gym in permanent maker. Today on Oprah: Parents in denial. Rebecca shook her head sadly. “I’m worried, Natalie.”