Chapter Text
I don't know what I was thinking, getting my teaching certificate. I don't belong in a classroom. I barely belong in my own apartment. Still, it was worth it to get hired at Kelly High School after several years of hiding my past, just to see Ryland Grace again.
He's the only person from my childhood I remember properly, other than Mom. The only friend I had in 6th grade, even if it was only for a few months. I liked listening to him talk about concepts I didn't understand during lunch; the way he'd help me with science and math homework while we waited for the bus. I even liked how he'd get in my personal space and give me random hugs.
Then he moved, and…
I hold on to those memories very tightly. They've kept me going all these years. I don't even know if Ryland remembers me anymore. I hope he does, but I'm not holding my breath. It's been a long time.
Okay, so maybe I do know what I was doing. I want to get close to him again.
I try to keep my anxiety down by chewing on the toothpick in my mouth while I walk through the empty hallways towards the shop. The school year doesn't start for another three weeks, but teachers have to attend development meetings and set everything up, so here I am.
I'm taking my time, taking in the shapes of the halls and how many doors are on each side, when I pass a room with an open door that draws me in.
It's a science classroom, based on the microscopes against the wall and all the posters behind them. There are models everywhere; some on the floor, a few on tables and desks, and even more in bins scattered around the place. Whoever teaches this class really enjoys a cluttered space. And tearing their classroom down every test season, apparently.
I stand in the threshold and peer towards the back briefly before deciding to continue on my way to the garage. I'm supposed to be familiarizing myself with my space, not invading someone else's.
The garage is pretty barren, almost unnervingly so. I briefly wonder if this is how my apartments used to look to anyone who saw them in passing as I sweep my gaze over the space. There's a rusty 2002 Volvo S80 in bay one. The engine is sitting on a table next to it, so I assume it must be the shop's practice car.
I can already see everything that's wrong with it without even touching the machine. My hands itch to get to work, but I need to be patient. This car isn't for me to fix; it's for the students.
…Maybe I'll take it apart during class.
I find the old radio hidden behind a toolbox and tune it until it starts playing a jazz station I like softly through the speakers. It fills the garage pleasantly. I feel the tension in my shoulders dissipate a bit at the familiarity.
According to the principal, this school hasn't had an auto teacher in at least five years. The more I look around, the more I can see that. There's dust everywhere… I should really clean it up before school starts.
I take my jacket off and set it on a nearby stool. There aren't any wipes or anything in here for cleaning a lot of dust, so I decide to head back into the school building proper to see about borrowing some from a janitor.
I open the door and almost run directly into someone.
"Oh! Apology, apology," the man says quickly when I step back. "I heard music and wanted to come see who was in the garage! I didn't think you'd be coming out right as I was going in!"
I force myself to relax a little bit. "It's alright."
The man in front of me is wearing a thick pair of goggles and has what I can only describe as a mop of curly black and white hair that swoops up over to the left. He's slightly taller than I am and broad in the shoulders. He has on an apron and a pair of thick gloves. There's a wide smile on his freckled face.
He takes off one of his gloves and holds his hand out to me. "Manolo Ortiz! But everyone calls me Rocky. I'm the welding teacher. My workshop is right next door!"
This is where I'm supposed to introduce myself, isn't it? I swallow thickly and shake his hand. He's warm and solid like one would expect from someone who fucks around with metal and blow torches all the time to be. Strong enough to seriously hurt someone, if he wanted.
"Driver," I say, instinct kicking in before I can think to use my actual name.
Mr. Ortiz doesn't seem bothered by it, at least. His smile doesn't fade despite the questioning raise of an eyebrow. I smile back, hoping it comes across as friendly.
"It's nice to meet you, Driver!" He gives my hand a squeeze before he lets go and puts his glove back on. "I'm excited we finally have a new machine shop teacher; the vocations hall has been so boring with just me and Ms. Jefferson down here."
He continues speaking; "The first year can be really tough, so if you need help with anything just let me know! Or you could find my partner, Adrian. Their classroom is upstairs in the science hall; they teach chemistry. So I'm closer, but they have more eloquent answers. Grace can also tell you stuff, but Adrian and I have been here longer."
Mr. Ortiz is rambling, now, but I find myself relaxing a little bit as he does so. He talks with his hands like he has to move to live, but I'm now stood here wondering who Grace is. A friend, it seems, and newer to the school than Mr. Ortiz and Adrian. Is it a first name or a last name?
A timer goes off in Mr. Ortiz's pocket. "Oh, that's my cue to go eat something. I hope you're excited for the school year, Driver!"
He waves at me and practically runs back to the workshop. I smile a little bit after him as I begin to climb the stairs back into the rest of the school.
The quiet I experienced last time I walked this particular hall is broken by the sounds of someone being clumsy in their classroom. I hear a chair squeal along the linoleum and piles of books topple over onto different surfaces.
"Ow, shoot," a quiet voice grumbles from inside.
I decide to go over and find myself unsurprised that it's the classroom with all the stuff scattered around. I thought it had been messy before… that was nothing compared to the disaster I'm looking at right now.
My eyes find their way to the teacher currently in the back of the room. He has his glasses off his face dangling by his ear, one hand on his cheek and one in his messy blond hair. He has a bit of a scruffy beard growing in and is wearing the most ridiculous science pun t-shirt I've ever seen, but I immediately recognize him. This is the man I've been spending years wanting to find again.
There's at least two dozen books scattered around his feet and several more in haphazard piles on the table in front of him. He seems disgruntled, yet I'm more caught up on the fact I'm standing in the threshold of Ryland's classroom.
"Need some help with those?" I lean against the door frame; roll my toothpick around with my tongue.
Ryland jumps, then chuckles and drags his hand down his face. A familiar warmth settles in my chest at the sound. "Well, if I would stop running into stuff, that'd be a great start. But, uh, yeah, actually. If you don't mind?"
I smile a little bit as I step into the classroom. "Not at all."
"Thanks; I'll get you a coffee tomorrow morning." A grateful smile spreads across Ryland's face. He fixes his glasses back onto his nose and looks up at me finally. He's staring fully now, and I watch his expression shift from gratitude to surprise. My heart threatens to beat out of my chest.
"Oh my gosh, Casey?!"