“Come on, people!”
It was the worst possible day to be running late for work. A strange mix of annoyance and excitement coursed through my veins as I fumed while stuck in traffic, gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles had turned white. Rush-hour traffic in any metropolitan city was frustrating, but here in Northern Virginia, it was especially brutal, even on Fridays when traffic was normally lighter.
I could see my highway exit just up ahead, but we were at a standstill. My Metro card peeking out from my cup holder mocked me, and I cursed myself for not taking public transportation.
After what felt like an eternity, during which I memorized all the stick figures’ names on the minivan’s back window in front of me, I finally pulled into Northern Ridge High School.
Five minutes before the first bell. I can do this.
Planner and tote bag in hand, I hurried to my classroom, trying not to knock anyone down as I made my way down the locker-lined hallway. Naturally, there were a few students milling about outside my classroom, chatting with their friends. The others would stroll in just before the bell rang.
The classes I taught varied from US History to Government, which was my last class of the day, and today it was the one I was looking forward to. We were in the second half of the year, and mid-semester exams were under way in all my classes except for my Government class.
I went through the motions all day, watching the clock as I counted down the minutes until my last class. Today was special because I’d invited a special visitor, and had been thrilled when he’d accepted.
By the time the eighth-period bell rang hours later, my nerves were tight with anticipation. Students leisurely poured in, and the familiar sound of chairs scraping the linoleum floor was welcome. My dry-erase marker squeaked on the whiteboard as I wrote today’s class agenda—GUEST SPEAKER.
I pivoted to face a sea of blank faces. “Class, today we’ll be visited by a very significant man who is a United States senator. He’s hoping to be our president one day. Isn’t that exciting?”
My boisterous voice might as well have been a murmur. The students groaned, but I felt as if I could practically burst out of my skin. Apparently, high school juniors didn’t find this thrilling, but I did. I’d majored in political science, and the thought of a real politician coming to speak to my class was the most exhilarating thing to ever happen in my life.
“Ms. Washburn, can I go to the nurse?”
When I looked at the young lady twirling pink gum around her pointer finger as she stretched it from her lips, looking as bored as could be, I raised my brows in question as she rolled her eyes.
“Are you sick, Veronica?”
She pulled her gum from her finger and put it back in her mouth. “No, but I hate politics.”
The class’s laughter was interrupted by a knock at the door. All eyes went to the open doorway, and Veronica sat up in her seat and said quickly, “Never mind. I feel better.”
I’d never seen him in person, but Senator Drake Prescott was breathtaking. Magazine photos and television definitely didn’t do him justice; in person he was even more impressive. Standing at about six feet tall with an almost military bearing, he had piercing blue-green eyes, impeccably styled brown hair, and a dimple that could make a nun kick the habit. He was imposing in his navy suit, light blue tie, and the obligatory American flag pin on his lapel.
I could barely take my eyes off of him. The man was definitely model worthy.
When I glanced at my class, the girls were staring with wide eyes, giggling or touching up their lip gloss, but the boys just looked bored and unimpressed.