It was the second day back at school. As was routine, teachers were given a full week to set up our classrooms and attend (largely pointless) staff meetings before students returned and things returned to their strange mix of manic and dull routine. As was routine I hadn’t told Cassie anything about the last few days before summer; largely putting it out of my mind. Spending a summer cooped up in my fortress of a house not thinking about my problems and completely vegging out was another routine. I needed routine.

Looking down at my slight paunch, I patted my stomach and shook my head. Most animals fattened up in winter. It would be an annoying fall of losing weight. But at least it was routine. I needed this year to be routine; to go back to normal.

I needed my normal again and had spent more than one morning waking up from any number of vaguely recalled nightmares and unpleasant memory dreams.

If you’ve read this far, three guesses as to what said nightmares and dreams involved.

“Ready to start the new year?” Mrs. Beouf asked me from across her teacher table.

I took another sip of coffee. “Not yet,” The stuff in my mug was so sugared up and filled with mocha that it was more akin to warm cocoa; just the way I liked it. Beouf was drinking hers black, of course. “Spent most of yesterday submitting lesson plans waaaaaay in advance. Will probably have to modify them if my students have specific accommodations in their I.E.P.’s, but best to keep busy.”

This was routine: Pre-work coffee and small talk. Tracy wouldn’t be in till later in the week; teaching assistants didn’t have to be on deck until Friday. That meant that Zoge wouldn’t be in either. More than a fair trade. Bonus points. WIth no buses looming down on us, we were all given more time and freedom of movement. That meant more time to just shoot the shit first thing in the morning. I took another sip. “How about you?”

“Me neither.” Beouf drained her comparatively giant mug. “Spent most of my free time moving around the heavy stuff. Easier to do and still be kinda zonked out from vacation.” True to form, Beouf had done a good chunk of the heavy lifting. Toy shelves were already moved back into place and tables and chairs that had been pushed against the wall for the summer were back in their proper locations.

It didn’t look like a true classroom. But the basic framework was in place. Beouf wiped her mouth on a paper towel. “Want some help in your room today?”

I finished my mug and shuddered at the delightful sugar rush as the bottom gave up the last of its contents. I placed it on the hard wood with a thunk and wiped my own mouth. “Yeah. That’d be great. Thanks.”

My own room was still a ghost town of shelved chairs and learning centers stashed away in supply closets. I’m clever, but there’s only so much I can do, physically.

“So you can show me where you want everything this morning,” Beouf said. “Then after lunch, how about you help me with restocking some stuff? Shelving the toys? Organizing the art center?”

I winced. My stomach had just started to wake up with the rest of me. “Sure,” I said. I always took the fact that she wanted something in return for her help as a sign of respect on her part. She could move heavy furniture. I could rifle through cardboard boxes. It didn’t bother my back as much, either since I didn’t have to bend down as far.

Beouf looked over my shoulder and into the nap room. “Mind helping me make the beds in there, too?”