Free Lead Me Home by Stacy Hawkins Adams

often she and Dayna chatted, the more she realized what she’d been missing. If Dayna was offering a way into her heart, Shiloh was ready to take it. When the time was right, God would bring her closer to Jessica, too.

fourteen
    Two hours into her new gig and so far so good.
    Shiloh perched on the stool at the front of the band room and waited for the next round of student musicians to breeze in and take their seats. This group would be the full band—grades nine through twelve—and if they were as focused as the jazz band students had been, she might do okay at this teaching thing.
    Shiloh was reviewing a note with instructions from Mrs. Helmsley when an afro distracted her. In fact, she saw the hair before she saw the rest of the girl. A soft, flowy affair at least six inches high filled the doorway, attached to the body of a tall, thin, fair-skinned teenager with delicate features. Shiloh wasn’t sure whether to laugh at the first-day-of-school joke, or take the young lady’s ‘do seriously. The girl perched on the first seat in the flute section and smiled at Shiloh. Shiloh could tell from this close proximity that it was no prank—the afro was real, not a wig, and this student was wearing it with confidence.
    Another bold frame filled the doorway, and this time it was a tall girl with an asymmetrical bob and one of the brightest smiles Shiloh had ever seen.
    “Monica, why did you leave me?”
    The second girl’s voice filled the band room as she strode toward the woodwind section, where she took a seat and began opening her saxophone case. Her afro-wearing, flute-playing friend, who Shiloh now knew as Monica, giggled.
    “Don’t mind us. That’s my silly best friend, Phaedra,” Monica said. “She’ll behave once class starts.”
    Shiloh nodded, but in an effort to maintain her authority, suppressed the smile that wanted to escape.
    Phaedra raised a tenor saxophone to her lips and blew one note in Monica’s direction, as if taunting her. The other students laughed, but kept preparing for class, which let Shiloh know they were used to the banter between these two. Without Shiloh having to utter a word, the students pulled out their flutes, saxophones, clarinets, trumpets, and other instruments, and by the time the bell rang, everyone was ready to play.
    Shiloh was speechless. She hadn’t expected this level of maturity from a group of high school students. But Dr. Carter had reiterated after she’d completed the substitute teacher workshop that she was starting in a great place—a magnet school with kids who wanted to be there and were eager to learn. He had been modest.
    “My goodness,” Shiloh finally said, after the bell rang. “Looks like I’m the one who’s not ready. I’m Mrs. Griffin, and as many of you know from the letter your parents received, Mrs. Helmlsey won’t return until late October, due to a relative’s illness. I’m looking forward to working with you until then. I’m a trained flutist and pianist and have taught students of all ages for years. I also have four children, ranging in age from sixteen to nine, and all of them play instruments. Let’s take attendance, and then we’ll get started on the music.”
    A young man in the drum section raised his hand.
    “Yes?” Shiloh responded.
    “You have an interesting accent; where are you from?”
    Shiloh smiled. “I should have warned you all. I am from Alabama, and you’ll have to forgive my thick accent. I’ve lived in Milwaukee for almost two years, but I still say ‘waaata’ for ‘water’ and ‘ya’ll’ or ‘you all’ instead of ‘you guys.’ I’m working on it!”
    The students laughed.
    As with the first period of the day, this hour whizzed by, and before Shiloh knew it, it was time to send this group of kids on their way. While everyone else dashed off to the next class, the girl with the afro, Monica, took her time packing up, then approached
    Shiloh.
    “Thanks for giving us a great start to the school