You're My Baby by Laura Abbot Page A

“I’m sorry to hear that. I was hoping it was something we’d have in common.”
    â€œNo chance,” Andy mumbled.
    The rest of the way to the house, neither one of them said anything.
    Crap. It was gonna be one long year.
    Â 
    T HANKS TO THE SODA CRACKERS she’d eaten before she got out of bed, Pam actually felt halfway decent this hot, sunny first day of classes. But no way could she go near the teachers’ lounge before school. Even during the best of times the acrid pungency of stale coffee was a fixture there. No, any tummy flutters she had today would be a result of nerves. Grant had called her late last night with the discouraging report that Andy hadarrived not only with all his luggage, but with a capital A attitude. He’d made it known in no uncertain terms that he was not in the mood for a father-son chat. So their news remained to be told.
    Walking toward the office, she nodded at Ralph Hagood, the principal, who stood in the intersection of two halls, greeting the students and giving bewildered freshmen directions. Pausing by the bank of faculty mailboxes, Pam pulled out her updated class rosters to scan before heading for her classroom. Then she saw the name. Just when she’d thought she had her stomach under control. Sixth period sophomore English. Andrew Paige Gilbert. Of all the luck. She had only one section of sophomores. What if she asked for him to be changed? But what reason could she possibly give Ralph?
    Around her, the students’ voices swirled in an upbeat symphony of sound, charged with the contagious energy and excitement of the first day of school. Although she hadn’t met Andy yet, she empathized with him. If half of what Grant had told her was true, the poor kid’s first day at Keystone would be just another in a long line of disruptive changes.
    A round-faced, curly-headed young man caught up with her as she walked down the hall. “Ms. Carver, when are auditions for the fall production?”
    Oh, Lord, the play. That was so far down on her list of priorities, she hadn’t given it much thought. “I don’t know yet.” She beamed at the eager youngster. “But I hope you’ll try out.”
    â€œAre we still doing Our Town? ”
    â€œYou bet.”
    â€œI’m your man, then.” He ducked into the French room. “See ya later.”
    When she entered her classroom, most of the seniors, many of whom she’d had as students in the past, were already in their seats. They greeted her with familiarity. “You gonna be rough on us, Ms. Carver?” “Tell me this course isn’t as hard as last year’s seniors said.” “Let’s just ease into this year, huh?”
    With a knowing smile, she introduced her class guidelines, handed out the syllabi and then launched into a lecture on the origins of Anglo-Saxon literature. After class, Brittany Thibault stopped at Pam’s desk. “I think I’m really gonna enjoy English lit.” Before Pam could respond, the girl hurtled on. “Could I ask you a huge favor, Ms. Carver?”
    â€œFire away.”
    â€œWould you be willing to write my college recommendations?”
    â€œI’d be happy to. Bring them to me when you’re ready.”
    Watching Brittany leave and the students in her second English lit class arrive, Pam had the urge to put her head down on her desk. Plays to direct, college recommendations to write, lectures to prepare, tests to administer, papers to grade, committee meetings to attend—it hadn’t taken long for her airy, hopeful balloon to settle back to earth. And she hadn’t even listed the most important job of all—a baby to nurture.
    The first day of classes was always exhausting, and by noon her adrenaline supply had dwindled. But she still had to face her afternoon class of sophomores. And Andy Gilbert.
    Looking around her classroom at the restless sea of sophomores, she