Lost in Amber

by Esther Rabbit

“Good morning to you, Zoey!” Samir took a hand and seemed to be trying to flatten his bangs in repetitive movements. “I can give you falafel, yes?”

  Falafel had never felt so present in her life. She opened her mouth and closed it again. Like a fish. Like a fish with sweaty hands and lack of falafel expertise.

  “Um—maybe I can prepare…the falafel?” She asked the question, extending her hand in a weird gesture. It seemed to make Samir’s hand migrate from the front of the head to the back. He was still grooming himself with an expression which clearly meant she did not cook the falafel. Great. “Maybe help you in the back?” Give. Me. Something. Samir.

  The grooming came to a halt and his hands returned to the counter. “Zoey, you lost job? I am very sorry.”

  “Mother of God!” Zoey narrowed her eyes at the realization. “I’m a teacher, aren’t I?” Her eyes instinctively went to the clock behind Samir. 8:49 a.m.—fifteen minutes to get to school. She went for the door quicker than the Flash. Of course Sam thought she was joking this morning. Jesus, she’d been so gullible her ego almost felt bruised in her marathon on the way to school.

  St. Andrew’s was normally a brisk twenty-five minute walk away from her place. She was now running as if her life depended on it.

  She made it. Pushing her way through the dark wooden doors, recently purchased at the courtesy of the Godbys, she made her way to her classroom with burning cheeks and a sweaty forehead, and took a heavy breath before turning the knob.

  “Good morning, everyone! Excited?”

  “Yeees!” twenty-two voices chirped and twenty-two little pairs of eyes followed her to the teacher’s cabinet, watching eagerly as she unlocked it, impatient to get their hands on scissors and cardboard.

  “Can I make a card for my truck?” Laughter echoed in the classroom. That was Felix, always against the current, adding a little extra glue, paint, water—whatever, basically—to every single craft he ever got his fingers on. Zoey wondered what it was going to be this time around.

  Abby, the blonde little smartass, never missed her chance. “That’s just stupid because the truck is not alive and can’t write back to you!” She stood up to make a statement.

  These two picked on each other with every breathing chance. “Sure you can, Felix. Valentine’s Day is all about friendship and love. Would you mind giving me a hand, Abby?” Zoey winked, causing the little leprechaun to look away and slump in his chair while Abby came forward, arms folded tightly across her little chest in pure protest. She hated being the classroom assistant and knew very well Miss Zoey did it to keep her busy. But she had opinions and her daddy had told her this was a country where freedom of speech had great value. Of course, practicing this ‘freedom of speech’ had gotten her detention, even at the age of six. Several times.

  She was now handing out scissors, glitter, cardboard, and glue as Zoey moved the glove dispenser around for everyone to pick their lucky two. Those gloves were there for the fun of it and Zoey knew it too well—the kids either complained that their hands got too sweaty, inflated them for the pleasure of unsuitable noises or pulled at the fingers to smack their classmates. Protocol aside, every class would end with sticky fingers and uncertainly colored goo underneath their fingernails—a fervently ongoing PTA topic.

  The six-year-olds were getting eager, wrapped up in their waterproof turquoise art smocks. There was nothing they loved better than getting their hands dirty while making fundamental choices on the color of glitter or shape of stickers. Art class gave kids the freedom of choice while still respecting the guidelines, the yearning to create something they could show off with magnificent little grins and the undeniable power to add a little piece of self in the mix.

  It was impossible not to fall in love with your job when your class was unanimously loved for different reasons—the artsy couldn’t wait to express themselves through color and shape during craft sessions, while the non-artsy busied themselves rejoicing in the fact that if they were well behaved, Zoey would sometimes allow them to finish their homework for Christopher Grave’s class. She never shared the secret nor the fact that kids ridiculed Christopher, nicknaming him Ferret-Face.

  He was very well-aware of the latter and always wondered what had sparked it, but it was only Zoey who knew it had come from the root of all cuteness and evil called Abby, who came up with the name when Zoey held a special class on animals represented in famous paintings. It all started with Leonardo da Vinci’s Lady with an Ermine—they sure were evil little gremlins sometimes. She smiled to herself at the memory and handed out the last pair of gloves, foreseeing their downgrade from the intended purpose.

  “We’re going to fold the two pieces of construction paper to form a perfect card. Keep them separate. We’re going to make a double layer card—this means your card will have a little surprise in the middle, so we’ll work on that now. When you’re finished folding, take your scissors and give it the shape you like. When it’s done, you’ll have the best pop up cards in school.” She drew patterns on the whiteboard for several shapes—heart, butterfly, flower, square, diamond. She went to her desk to prepare her own example card, grabbing two pieces of pink and purple construction paper, folding them neatly, and cutting out the pattern of a butterfly. “When you’re done, make sure you carefully glue your surprise inside the card. Now, if you use too much glue and it runs on the sides, you can always cover it with glitter while it’s still fresh!” This time around she could see less than six hands wearing gloves.

  “Miss Zoey, who’s your card for?” If ever a class had a Mr. Nosey, Frankie Johnson Jr. was it—nothing escaped his inquisitive eyes. Abby may have been the classroom menace, but Frankie did his best to keep up despite his innocent blue eyes and curly dark hair.

  “This year my friend Emma’s getting my card!” Sam kissed her chances goodbye this very morning. “How about you?” Judging by the girl he picked on most, Zoey’s guess was standing right in front of her, blonde hair captured in a ponytail, glitter all over her mouth—Abby.

  But Frankie was not one to blow a cover so easily. “I haven’t decided yet. But you have a boyfriend, Dad and I saw you shopping together downtown!” Giggles echoed from every corner.

  “Were you planning on writing me a card, Frankie?” Zoey’s question was followed by another wave of giggles, disarming Frankie Johnson Jr.—although it only took five seconds for him to make a comeback.

  “No!” He took off his remaining glove in objection.

  Across from him, Abby shot him a dead look. “Liar!” She poured glue on the inside of her card to make another statement and stuck her pop-up heart flat like a sticky metaphor.

  Zoey smiled, pulling at her sleeves. “Tell you what—how about the two of you write a card to someone who’s not your friend at the moment. Can you imagine how surprised they’d be getting a card from you?”

  “Wouldn’t an e-card be more impressive?” Abby questioned.

  “You can’t personalize an e-card with your own special handwriting, can you?”

  “Miss Zoey, Valentine’s Day is on Wednesday! Do I have to wait until Wednesday to give it to my boyfriend?” Christina’s card was taking shape and Zoey knew patience was not a virtue you possessed at the age of six.

  “It would be nice to wait for Valentine’s Day.” Zoey flashed a soft smile. “But it’s not mandatory.”

  The kids were busy finishing up their cards under Zoey’s careful guidance. She loved her job. Nothing made her happier.

  Except today.

  Except Today

  Today felt like she was not supposed to be there. She was supposed to be with Jasper, and the absence of him echoed like a void in her chest. Everything seemed out of place and nothing made sense. She was impatient. Restless. Jittery.

  Five minutes before the bell rang, Abby and Frankie had the tough job of walking the bin around the classroom. It was soon filled with scraps of paper and gloves.

  All the other kids were sharing their cards with each other and, just a
s the bell rang, Abby left her card on Frankie’s desk and made a run for it before he could return from garbage duty.

  It took a little under three seconds for Frankie Johnson Jr.’s cheeks to flash red once opening his black and red card. Nothing popped up from the heavy glue holding that heart in place.

  Your glasses. I like them.

  Abby

  These were the moments Zoey lived for, all this magic unravelling before her eyes and all the beauty and awkwardness that first crushes entailed. It was so easy to pick on the one you liked just to spend those extra two seconds around them.

  Kids taught you lessons. Love was supposed to be simple, pure, honest. The road to hell was indeed paved with good intentions, and James…Etienne…had them all. Something switched in Zoey’s brain. The fog was gone and what was left were traces of disappointment mixed with heartbreak. The feelings she had were real; the person she once had them for was not. She reached for her phone and dialed Jane’s number.

  Pick up, Mom!

  “Hi, Mom, how are you?”

  “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Jane knew Zoey wouldn’t call during school hours. Not if it wasn’t serious. “Everything alright?”

  Deep breath. “Hi, Mom, is Ma there too?”

  “She’s downstairs signing us up for tango lessons tomorrow evening. On the ship, so imagine that! Are you alright, sweetheart? Did you pick up your socks from Uncle Frank?”

  “Erm, not yet, I—um, Mom, I love my job but I think there’s somewhere else I should be right now. It’s not a crisis but James and I are not a couple anymore. He moved out.”

  “Oh, Zoey, when was this? Why?”

  “It’s complicated. I—I just wanted to let you know we’re not together anymore and it’s probably for the better.”

  “By all means, if he did wrong by you…”

  “Mom! I am fine with the breakup but I need your support—I’m going to quit my job.”

  Jane’s words clogged her throat, yet refused to come out.

  “Mom?”

  “Okay, go on…”

  “I’m going to quit my job and travel for a while. I’m thinking Italy, Belgium, France.” Pamplona.

  “Alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “You need to find yourself, maybe?”

  “Yes! That’s it! And I need you guys not to hate me for it.”

  “Darling, we’d never hate you for it. Margaret and I want to you be happy, it’s just that…we actually thought you were—I mean, we had no idea what you were going through. We can arrange flights and get back there by tomorrow evening. I can whip up some veggie lasagna, Ma can bake cookies, we can all chill together for as long as you wish before you leave…”

  “I’ll never speak to you again if you don’t stay right there on that cruise and send me pictures of everything! Every day! But I want you to be okay with my decision. I know it’s sudden but…it’s important.”

  Parents didn’t like not being in on all the story—she knew that. Jane was probably going to hyperventilate for the rest of the day, Margaret was going to sink into a what-have-I-done-wrong mood, but hopefully everything was going to work out in the end. Somehow.

  “When are you planning on leaving?” Accepting the outcome—unavoidable. Kids had a way of surprising you like that. Even the best of kids.

  “If all goes well, maybe tomorrow.”

  “You know, Frank warned me it would happen but I never believed him. He said if kids didn’t rebel in their teenage years, they’re bound to later in life. Crazy, huh?” Jane trailed off with the silent shock of realization.

  “I’ll text today, I have to go now. I love you, Mom! Tell Ma I’m not rebelling, I’m just…exploring.”

  “Don’t leave before you speak to Margaret!”

  “I love you.”

  “Love you. Don’t do anything silly.”

  Zoey hung up and made her way to the principal’s office. If there was one thing Principal Tuppence Arlington hated, it was surprise. And she was in for one.

  Zoey knocked on her door, steadying her breath, thoughts, and tucking her hair behind her ears like a good student. Principal Arlington made everyone feel like a student on their worst behavior at the best of times.

  “Proceed.” A saturnine voice came from the other end and with a light push, Zoey was in.

  There she was, pen in hand, papers sprawled on her desk. Zoey knew she was in her fifties, but the woman never seemed to age. She hadn’t changed her updo since Zoey had started working there. Rarely smiled. Had her coffee black, no sugar, in a tall mug as old as time and dressed in the same style turtlenecks since day one.

  Tuppence Arlington took her glasses off, studying Zoey intently. “So you’re leaving…”

  “Excuse me?” Wow, the woman can read people!

  “First you call in sick last week, now you come see me straight after your first class. You never missed a day of school, Zoey. Sit down.” She waved at one of the two armchairs in front of her desk.

  Zoey stepped in sheepishly, trying to remember the last time she had set foot in her office. It looked the same and smelled the same—the room just begged for fresh air.

  “Principal Tuppence,” Zoey swallowed, “I am here to quit my job.”

  Tuppence Arlington didn’t flinch. “Continue...”

  “I love my job, I love St. Andrew’s, my students, the staff—I can think of no better place to work.”

  “But?”

  “But I need to go. Today. And I hope in all fairness that I can one day return to teaching in one piece because it’s what I’m made for and I have loved every single day here.” Zoey’s palms were getting sweatier by the second.

  Tuppence leaned on the backrest of her chair and pulled up the only smile Zoey had ever seen in over two years of teaching.

  Working with people wore Tuppence out like nothing else, and her day had been a toxic mix of fixing problems, making parents happy, distributing funds to the right places, and dealing with teachers. Teachers who thought all the world revolved around their lives. Teachers fresh out of school, lashing out about their extensive experience during interviews, teachers who thought they’d invented pen and paper. And then there was this one. She always wanted to make herself invisible, but she wasn’t. She did her job, stayed out of trouble, and kept the kids happy. Until now.

  “Is it love?” Tuppence put her glasses back on. Probably to read her better.

  “I don’t know if there’s a name for it.” Zoey looked away, feeling the minefield extending before her. She wanted to open her heart so badly but couldn’t master the right words.

  “Go get him, then.” Principal Tuppence pulled her chair closer to her desk and grabbed her pen again. “And get back here when you’re done. I’ll email you the papers.”

  Unexpected. Tuppence was back to her papers as if Zoey wasn’t even there. Tuppence told her to come back. There was hope.

  “Thank you, Principal Arlington!” she blurted out in obvious shock and made her way for the door. “I hope to see you soon.”

  “Scram.” ’Twas the last word on Tuppence’s lips and Zoey closed the door before she overstayed her welcome.

  That silly smile refused to leave her face on her way down the hall as she passed Ferret Face.

  “Um, Zoey…” Christopher’s words brought her to a halt. He got slightly closer, for what he was about to say seemed to be of great importance. Or embarrassment, given the look on his face and low voice. “Listen, Anthony and I were wondering if you’d be up for a Valentine’s get-together this Wednesday evening. I know it’s sudden but we have two more tickets to this dinner with a magic show downtown and we were actually eager to meet this boyfriend of yours.”

  Bullshit. Bull-shit. Zoey knew she was the very last person Christopher would ask to anything. Since going on and off with Anthony Bush, in two years he and Zoey had only shared a quick coffee on their way to school. Since Anthony was the mysterious, private type, Christopher became the twin living in his sh
adow. Maybe he got so boring that no one wanted to go on a double date with him. Or maybe it meant that in this current, wealthier life she’d gained more popularity?

  “Oh, oh, I’m really sorry but I have some plans on Wednesday evening already.” It crossed her mind to suggest asking his nemesis, Harriet, but she couldn’t possibly be that mean. Not even when provoked. “I—I have to run now! See you!” She stormed to her classroom wondering how long it would take Tuppence Arlington to find a substitute teacher, as her next class happened to be in less than two hours.

  She opened her cabinet and took out the plastic box she’d brought on her first day. It still held the only personal items she wanted back, so she grabbed it without thinking twice, placing it carefully on her desk next to…

  A card?

  An intense amount of glitter fell out as she opened the Valentine’s Day card.

  I want to have class with you every day!

  Love, Frankie

  And, under that:

  Jasper is still alive. Book the midnight flight to Pamplona with a connection flight in Barcelona. I’ll be at the airport. Lilou

  Heat rose from her chest to her cheeks. It was real. And it was happening right now.

  Preview - Found in Amber

  Please enjoy a preview of the following book in the series

  Found in Amber

  (Book #2)

  A Schrödinger’s cat case

  Aheap of ginger curls came blasting out of St. Andrew’s sturdy wooden front doors, fingers tight around the plastic box holding her belongings and two years worth of handcrafted cards from her students.

  Zoey stormed off in her red tartan dress and dark tights, sprinting cardiganless on the street that led home. No one could possibly feel the February cold, not in her shoes, not when Jasper was still alive. Her nostrils were getting red around the edges as she panted her way from one sidewalk to the other, holding that big plastic box as if her life depended on it. All the love was there, in every single doodled card, in every cardboard stuck to glue stuck to glitter, in every book she’s ever read her students.