Free From Slate to Crimson by Brandon Hill Page A

Amelia remarked as she wiped a bit of spaghetti sauce from the side of her mouth. We had stopped at her home before coming here, and she was now dressed in a one-piece dress of blue-gray that nearly matched her eyes. She held the white napkin close to her breast as she ate.
    “My clan knows this place well,” I said, “and our human friends tend to adjust their hours to suit us. It helps to have a few places open all night.”
    “With the hours I pull doing grades, I think I could benefit from having a place like this open,” Amelia said. “The food here is wonderful!”
    “At my home, there is a spread of food always open to humans,” I said. “The restaurant owners trained some of the cooks there. One day, I’ll show you.”
    “It’s a date then,” she said with eagerness. “But I think you’ll find that it was a mistake to make that offer. I can eat a lot when I want.”
    I could not help but laugh at her words. “Then you’ll have your fill,” I said. “You’ll find that there is more food there than you could ever eat.”
    “You’re making this sound better and better!” Amelia said. “Anything’s better than the crap the cafeteria serves. It’s never enough.” And with that, she took an entire meatball and placed it in her mouth.
    “It seems that food holds a close second place in your heart next to children,” I said after taking a small bite out of my very rare steak. Your love for them is written all over the classroom.”
    And that was where I learned the depth of the love that Amelia had for her job. I listened to her myriad of stories, both of her good students and unruly ones. Though she repeatedly remarked at how “bad” she was at it, she absolutely delighted in her work; despite her self-deprecating demeanor, her zeal was evident in her every thought and word.
    “You shouldn’t think so little of yourself as a teacher,” I said at last.
    “But I am bad,” Amelia said. “I can’t hold a candle to the other teachers I work with, and the principal is always on my case about this or that, and…”
    “Do your students love you?” I asked.
    “Well, yes. I mean, I think they do,” Amelia said, after a moment’s pause to think, “If the gifts they gave me before Christmas are any sign.”
    “And do you love them?”
    “Mom always said that I wished they were my kids,” she replied. “She was always really perceptive.”
    Her thoughts conveyed more information than her words. Instantly, my heart swelled with sympathy. “How did she die?” I asked.
    “Car accident.” Her wistful smile trembled as she bit her lower lip. She sniffled once, and a tear rolled down. “It was two years ago in October. Damn it, now I wish you couldn’t read my mind.”
    “I’m sorry,” I said. “It was near the surface. You were close to her, weren’t you?
    “She was my best friend,” Amelia whispered with a nod. “I looked up to her in everything.”
    “She was a teacher, like you.”
    Amelia nodded. “I wanted to be just like her. I never grew out of it. She was the perfect mom…the perfect woman, I thought. You name it, she could do it. I couldn’t hold a candle to her.”
    “I’m sorry,” I said, suddenly ashamed. “I shouldn’t have brought it back up. Those thoughts are private.”
    “No, it’s okay,” Amelia said, sniffling back the remainder of her tears. Hurriedly, she wiped her reddened eyes and smiled at me. “It was close to the surface, like you said, so I’m guessing you couldn’t help seeing it, or hearing it, or…whatever. And besides, you don’t know this, but the reason I’ve been feeling so good as of late is because of you.” Her smile broadened as her hand reached for mine.
    “I’d been in kind of a funk since she died. And come to think of it, that’s probably why the principal’s been riding my ass so much. But then, I met you –or rather, you met me. Talante, as crazy as it all seems, you’re quite possibly the best thing that ever