Rock Bottom Girl

by Lucy Score

That same too-cool elementary school rebel was now thirty-eight, downsized, broken up with, and newly homeless.

Honk! “Oh my fucking God!” I clutched my hands to my heart and jumped a foot off the ground. A swan waddled past on the other side of the fence, casting a derisive look in my direction. Was it an attack swan? Had it been trained in the art of home defense? Would it swoop over the fence and start pecking at me? Could swans fly? I had many questions.

My desire to be liked and accepted was equal to Vicky’s desire to call assholes assholes. I admired her tremendously for it.

Technically, yes. I was an adult. Had been for many years. But I never felt like I’d actually achieved adulthood. Sure, I carried stamps in my purse. And I could cook food that didn’t come from boxes. And I understood the importance of eight hours of sleep. But did that make me an adult?

She greeted me with her hands extended, and I didn’t know what to do, so I took them both and made a weird little curtsy.

“Think of this as a do-over,” he suggested. “Remember everything that you hated about high school and see if you can do anything about it from this side of things.”

“They’re basically animals, you know? Without us, they’d be not showering and wandering around naked just licking things. We’re goddamn superheroes.”

I forgot how much I hated school buses. The vinyl seats smelled like farts, and the suspension made me feel like I was enjoying a leisurely cruise in a tank over desert boulders. My internal organs were bruised, and I felt queasy. But at least the girls were in good spirits.

Jake wouldn’t leave Culpepper for me. And I wouldn’t stay here for him. That was the bottom line.

“I heard you taught the kids how to make bongs out of fruit,”

Actually I taught them how to pass a field sobriety test.” “Life skills, my friend. Life skills,”

“You seem really happy,” I observed. She shot me a grin. “I am. I mean, I’m unemployed and driven insane daily by my family. But honestly, it’s a great freaking life.

“Amie Jo is telling everyone that you went to her dad for the blood test and that you don’t know who the father is.”

Amie Jo’s feet slipped out from under her, and we watched as she landed in slow motion with another resounding splat. Right on her ass. In the middle of the steaming pile of donkey shit.

What’s right for someone else doesn’t make it right for you. You know that, right? You don’t have to feel guilty for not doing what everyone else is doing.”

“You’re just free to be. If something isn’t the right fit, you move on, and you try something else. I’m stuck. I’ve dug myself into a hole so deep in this job that

“Do you lock yourself in the bathroom to cry?” Zinnia asked. “Once a week. For twenty minutes,” Amie Jo said.

What about your hashtag blessed post today on Facebook?” I asked Amie Jo. “That’s social media,” Zinnia scoffed, taking a swig of wine. “Exactly. That’s a highlight reel. Social media is how you fantasize your life should be. Not the reality of it.” Amie Jo looked at me like I was an idiot. “No one actually wants to know how you really feel.”

I’m just trying to show everyone that respecting each other is more important than proving you’re better than everyone else.”

“I want you and Culpepper and Homer. I want to teach gym and coach soccer. I want to sleep late with you on Sundays. I want to run a half-marathon and spend my summers road-tripping with you.”

I’m not a disaster or a loser. And just because things don’t go exactly the way I think they should doesn’t mean that they aren’t perfect the way they are.”

didn’t have to be out there making a difference for thousands of people in order to matter. I could make my difference one person at a time. Starting with me. There was nowhere else in the world I’d rather be. And that was the secret, I realized. It didn’t matter what my salary was. Whether or not I had a corner office and an assistant. This feeling, this contentment, was what mattered most.

I loved and was loved. And that was the most important thing in the world.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s my great honor this year to present the Teacher of the Year award. This year’s recipient has not only been an exemplary member of the faculty but an integral part of the Culpepper community. The only thing more impressive than her bravery is the capacity of her heart. She set out to make every student feel like they belonged in this school, on her team, in this town.”

“What do you say, Mars? You and me? Forever. We’ll take Libby and Homer along for the ride.”