Lauren Takes Leave by Julie Gerstenblatt Read Free Book Online Page B

Mental-health day?”
    I look at her and nod my head yes, then no. “What I mean
is…” I drift off, considering for a moment spilling the story, telling Sophie
how I purposefully tried to get selected as a juror. But then I’d have to
explain why, and I’m not really sure I have a clear answer for that one. I look
down at my new purchase and stick to the basic truth. “I’m on jury duty.”
    “Ugh, poor thing,” she concludes, and I let her believe
it.
    Ten minutes later, I push open the heavy, spring-loaded
classroom door and step inside. The lights are off, and a hazy afternoon sun
leaks through the windows. Finger-painted animals cover one wall, while a giant
calendar with movable felt pieces hangs on another. A blue shag circle rug sits
empty in the middle of the room. Spider plants hang limply over the teacher’s
desk. I hear a scratching sound and remember the hamster. What the heck did
this year’s class name it? Hammy? Something original like that. A low, muffled
sound belonging to a human voice startles me.
    “Kat?” I whisper loudly. Something about empty classrooms
creeps me out. I flick on the lights and try again, louder this time. “Kat!
C’mon, I know you’re in here. You’ve called me three times since twelve thirty!”
    And then I see it—a curling black telephone cord vanishing
into the supply closet at the far end of the room.
    Inside, Kat is crouched on a wooden, three-legged kiddie
stool, like a teenager on a toilet seat in a bathroom stall hiding from the
principal during math class. She has the phone cradled under her left ear and a
cigarette clamped between two fingers in her right hand.
    “What the hell?” Kat calls out, squinting into the sudden
light. She momentarily loses her balance on the stool and has to put out her
right hand to steady herself.
    “Kat, I think the question is ‘What the fuck? ’ and
I’m supposed to be the one asking it.”
    She rolls her eyes and speaks into the phone. “I gotta go.
No, it’s not the administration. It’s just Lauren. Yup. Me, too. TTYL.”
    Kat emerges, brushing a stray black curl from her eyes.
“Hang this up for me, will you?” Then she gestures with the cigarette. “Do you
have a light?”
    “Is that a candy cigarette?”
    “Insert second eye roll here. Duh, Lauren. You really
think I’d smoke around those frigging five-year-olds?”
    “Such colorful language.”
    “I’m outta matches is all. I’ll be golden once I take a
puff.”
    “Fine.” I move my thumb across the knuckle of my pointer
finger and hold it out to her. “Use my lighter.”
    Kat presses the dusty white sugar stick to her lips and
closes her eyes. “ Much better. Thanks.”
    “Who was that on the phone?” I ask.
    “Just…no one.” She takes a bite of the hard candy and
starts chewing.
    “It was Varka, wasn’t it?”
    “Maybe yes, maybe no.” Chew, chomp, puff.
    “I thought we talked about this. I thought we agreed that
a ten-dollar-a-minute psychic was not the answer.”
    Kat is complete nonchalance. “Depends on the question.
Mercury is in retrograde right now, and Mercury rules travel and
communications, among other things. It means things are gonna be kooky for the
next few weeks.” A smile plays on her lips. “Lauren, Varka has me worried for
our safety.”
    “Oh puh-leeze! You know, I don’t need this. I’m ‘off duty’
at school this week. I promised myself I wouldn’t step foot into this building
unless completely necessary.”
    “Technically, this is the elementary wing, so you’re not really in the middle school, you know.”
    “Technically, go to hell.”
    “Such colorful language.”
    There is a break in our banter, neither of us knowing what
to say next. I meet Kat’s eyes and see for the first time that she must have
been crying. Her eyes are red-rimmed and puffy. I wait.
    “Psycho Mom is at me again.”
    “What’s the complaint this time?” I ask. “Air toxins? Not
enough visual stimuli in the kindergarten?