Last One Waiting
By Amelia Chea
Thida expected Mrs. K to tell her she should just quit after school activities if this was going to be a continuous problem. Mrs. K probably had a home, a family, a warm dinner— maybe even a cat— waiting for her. Yet, here she was waiting outside with Thida after the janitor had kicked them out of the school building.
It all started when Mrs. K, who was also her homeroom teacher, asked if she was interested in any extracurriculars. Thida thought herself to be a good student that met expectations but didn’t stand out.
It was easier this way. No questions were asked. At least not until Mrs. K pulled her aside and said that she could ‘participate more’. Be more ‘involved’. It would look good on future college applications and for scholarships and stuff like that. Thida had not been convinced, but Mrs. K had gotten her to agree to come to the extracurricular club that she oversaw. Give it a try, Mrs. K had said. Thida was not sure what her teacher saw in her, but she feared it was because she was pitiful, an outcast, and (more controversially) the only Asian girl in her grade.
Thida rolled a small pebble back and forth repeatedly under the sole of her too-big Reeboks. The scratchy sound filled the space between her and Mrs. K. The unspoken understanding was that Mrs. K knew Thida was no good at math anyways—not enough to be in Math Olympiad, that was for sure. She was only there for the free donuts every Wednesday at 6 a.m. and it allowed Pa a place to leave her before going work that wasn’t at home alone. On math meet days, like today, Pa could work overtime a few hours into the evening. This was more than just a few hours, though.
Thida’s cheeks flushed from both embarrassment and the cold. “Y’know, Mrs. K, you can just go. My dad will be here any minute.”
“I’m responsible for you until you get into your parent’s car. I’m not going to leave you unattended,” her teacher huffed.
The pressure in Thida’s chest only continued to grow until she felt like she could barely breathe. The lump in her throat bulged. Tears pricked her eyes.
“Just leave me here!” she yelled. “I’ll be fine! We’ve been here for hours and you have to get home, too. My dad isn’t usually this late, but he will be here. It’s cold outside right now. I know you can’t feel your fingers because I can’t feel mine either. I know it’s real dark out, but there are street lights and we live in suburbs, anyways!”
Thida held her breath and waited for Mrs. K to berate her for her outburst.
She waited and waited, but Mrs. K didn’t say anything. It was so silent that Thida could hear the soft snow falling onto pavement.
She let out the breath she had been holding with a shaky exhale. Luckily, the hood of her faux fur-lined jacket hid her face from Mrs. K’s view, and vice versa, because Mrs. K’s lack of a reaction was truly worse than if she did scold her.
A few minutes later, the dull glow of her dad’s Toyota Camry headlights emerged from the deep blue darkness. The sound of the engine rumbled its way towards them.
“See you tomorrow, Thida.” Mrs. K said.
“Bye,” Thida managed to say in her normal voice.
After wrestling to get the passenger door open, she climbed into the car and threw her backpack down between her feet.
“Did you forget about me?”
“No, no of course not, honey. Traffic was really bad. Lots of accidents because of the snow. Sorry.” Pa gave Mrs. K a sheepish wave from behind the wheel before pulling away.
Thida pulled her mittens off and held her fingers up to the heat vents. Her fingers were red and swollen. She tried to scrunch them, but they barely moved at the joints. A thousand tiny needles left her skin feeling tingly as she thawed.
Thida looked down at the mittens in her lap and sighed once again. She had better return them to Mrs. K in the morning.
