Sign Me Up by Dulcie Dameron
Jamie
being introduced to creative writing this year and asked if we’d like to show the kids what a successful functioning paper looks like,” says Stefan with his arm draped across Parker’s cubicle wall. As usual, he’s the picture of power and authority as the rest of us stand around in an awkward not-circle circle. “I expect everyone to be welcoming and accommodating.”
I shift on my feet, gripping my plastic-wrapped plate of chocolate chip and M&M cookies a little tighter. I don’t know how touring the Gazette will be a help to Miss Fowler’s first-grade class when it comes to creative writing, but maybe we can at least be an inspiration to some aspiring young writer.
I would’ve loved to go on a field trip like this in school. All we had the opportunity to do was tour historical reenactments in and around Ohio. So ya know, if you would’ve asked me how to churn butter at age eight, I could’ve at least told you the basics.
Lucas shoots his hand up in the air like we’re the ones in Miss Fowler’s class. Stefan bobs his head in Lucas’s direction, prompting him to speak.
“Ah, yes, Mr. Sanders. Would it be all right if I personally showed the kids how we fold the papers? I think some hands-on experience would be fun and engaging for them.” He smiles wide, revealing his perfectly white teeth, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. He’s just trying to win more brownie points with our boss. I’d bet all the money in my savings that Lucas hasn’t rolled a newspaper in this office once.
“I think that would be very helpful,” Stefan says, returning Lucas’s smile.
Ugh. Lucas, one. Jamie, zero.
“I made cookies,” I blurt, holding up the plate like an offering. “I…uh…thought the kids would enjoy something sweet after the tour.” With everyone’s eyes on me, I regret speaking up.
“That’s nice, Jamie,” Stefan says, his smile oddly warm. “Maybe you can set up a refreshment table in the break room.”
I dip my chin, relieved to be given a somewhat meaningful task, but I don’t miss the annoyed look Lucas sends my way. It’s become a habit of mine to ignore him, though. If he can show the kids how to fold the papers, the least I can do is feed them snacks.
Just twenty minutes later, a large group of little kids descends on the office with marker-smudged hands and toothy grins. Miss Fowler is a tall, older woman with thick glasses, but she seems to have the kids well-in-hand.
After Stefan makes initial introductions, we’re all asked to stand at our cubicles and wait for the kids to make their rounds. They start at the far end where Les works, and knowing they’ll be there for a while, I mosey over to Parker’s side of the wall.
His eyes are already on me when I turn toward him. “So, you think the kids will enjoy this?”
He rests an arm on the corner of his cubicle wall and half-shrugsbefore signing, Time will tell.
“What are you going to tell them about what you do?” I eye his messy desk. Stacks of colorful sticky notes, a plastic piggy bank full of pennies, and a small cup overflowing with pens, highlighters, and scissors sits on one side of his desk while the other boasts a potted plant with a small spritzer, his Star Wars coffee mug, a bottle of Pepsi and a weird-looking alien head.
In contrast, my desk has my one succulent, Beatrice, a small salt lamp, and my coffee mug that reads, “Wears Black. Loves Coffee. Avoids People.”
Parker’s lips tip up in an almost flirty smile. I’m telling them I’m Superman, he signs. During the day, I work at the paper, but in the evening, I’m a superhuman hero. I can’t help but laugh, but when he starts unbuttoning his shirt, all humor leaves me.
“Parker? W-what are you…?” Before I can finish my question, he tears open his shirt, revealing a giant S on whatever Superman costume he’s wearing underneath his shirt and tie.
I sputter another laugh. “You’re serious right now?”
He can’t hear me, but he’s grinning so wide and proud, I think he already knows how amusing I find this little idea of his.
I grab his arm and meet his eyes. “You’re not seriously going to do this are you? I doubt Stefan will find it funny.”
He waves off my concern with a smirk, then reaches into his top desk drawer and pulls out a pair of his blue-light glasses. To finish the look, he signs, then puts them on.
Another giggle works its way to my lips. Parker mimics the Superman stance with his fists on his hips and it takes an enormous amount of effort not to gape at how handsome he looks in glasses. They accentuate his strong jaw and his wavy, dark curls. I have the sudden urge to twist my fingers in them and see if they look as soft as they feel.
He clears his throat, and my eyes meet his. His smirk grows wider. Lost in thought?
Heat charges into my cheeks at his signed question. The way he’s looking at me says he knows just how lost my thoughts actually got. “Um, no,” I say, trying to make a smooth recovery. “I just think you look…ya know…good with glasses. That’s all.” I lift my shoulders like it’s no big deal, even though my blush probably tells a different story.
Thankfully, Miss Fowler’s class chooses that moment to stride up to Parker’s cubicle. I hang back and creep to my own before his handsomeness has any more chances to affect me. He quickly buttons his shirt’s middle button and covers it with his tie before turning toward the class. Apparently, he really is going for the whole Clark Kent/Superman act.
I shake my head at my friend’s antics. Something about him feels different lately. Maybe it all stemmed from when he acted a little jealous over Mike’s texts, or maybe it was when we got lost in the corn field together, I don’t know. But either way, his looks and touches feel like…more.
Like maybe there’s something he’s trying to tell me beneath the surface of his smiles or the sparkle in his eyes. I’m too afraid to look deeper, though. What Parker and I share is special. It’s not every day co-workers get along the way we do. I know that all too well. We actually want to be together during working hours and even after.
What if I read into the signals I think he’s sending me and find out I’m mistaken? Am I willing to risk losing our easy friendship here at work on what ifs? Some days, it feels like he’s my only ally here. To lose our closeness would be devastating.
I clear my throat and straighten my already tidy desk, convinced I’m out of my mind and Parker is the same as he’s always been. Shoving those thoughts aside, I step to my cubicle opening when a red-headed little girl approaches, followed by a string of other kids. They’re all so cute, I can’t help but smile down at them.
“Hi, I’m Jamie,” I say with a friendly wave. I’m not usually the gregarious, cheery type. Not like Parker. But it’s impossible to keep a sour face with the wide, innocent eyes of this first-grade class staring up at me. “Would you guys like to know a little about what I do here at the paper?”
Nodding their little heads, some even clapping, they give me an audible Yeah! When Miss Fowler gives me the green light, I launch into the spiel I prepared the night before. It’s not long, in fact, it only took two minutes to recite from start to finish. But I came up with some follow up questions to ask them and a little assignment they could take home and work on.
“So, what are some exciting things happening in your school that you think you could report on?” I ask, kneeling down to their level, excited to hear their answers.
The little redhead immediately pipes up. “Our gym teacher, Mr. Vlasik, got hit in the head with a dodge ball by Billy Brooks!” Her eyes grow wide during the tale. “And he had to go to the hos-i-ble because he kept falling over! They took him in an am-ba-lence!”
My gaze lifts to Miss Fowler, who winces. “I see. That definitely sounds newsworthy.” I straighten and run a hand down the front of my top. “What about something good? Is there anything you could report on that would make people happy to hear about?”
I scan the hands that immediately go up through the small group. “Yes, how about you,” I say, pointing to a boy with a buzzed head.
“The lunch ladies started giving us chocolate milk this year. That makes me happy.” He shrugs his little beefy shoulders and I smile.
“Oh, that does sound like good news.”
After I finish my questions and tell the kids to come up with their own mini articles and turn them in to Miss Fowler for me to read, she thanks me for my time. “You and that tall drink of water beside you were the most entertaining so far,” she whispers, leaning close. At the words tall drink of water, her eyes drift to Parker’s cubicle.
I suppress a grin. “Well, I appreciate that, Miss Fowler. And don’t forget, when you’re done touring the office, I’ll have refreshments set up in the break room.” I explain where that is and wave goodbye to the kiddos for now.
I’m so caught up in the warm, fuzzy feels that talking to them gave me, I don’t even notice Parker standing off to my left until he nudges me in the ribs with his sword finger.
I jump and turn toward him. “She said we were the most entertaining!” I whisper-squeal as I clasp my hands under my chin. “Maybe she’ll tell Stefan and he’ll be impressed with our effort.”
Parker’s brow lowers, telling me he didn’t quite catch everything I said. Must have been the whisper-squeal. I repeat myself through sign and when understanding dawns, he responds, If the way you handled those kids doesn’t impress him, I don’t know what will. The sincerity in his eyes warms me all the way through to my toes.
“You were watching?”
He nods, a big grin blooming on his tanned face. I was and you were amazing. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Parker’s lids lower the slightest bit and I’m almost positive his eyes drop to my mouth. It’s not unusual for him to stare at my mouth. It’s how he’s able to piece together what I say through my broken Sign Language, but the look in his eyes is different—more heated and hazy.
My lips automatically part under the imagined attention, and for the first time ever, I wonder what it would be like to kiss Parker Kent.
Realizing the ridiculous turn of my thoughts, I take a quick step back and run a hand through my hair. “I…uh…need to go and get the cookies and drinks ready.”
Want my help? he asks, oblivious to my inner freak out.
“Uh, no!” I wince at my too quick response. “That’s okay,” I try again. “I’m just gonna pour some lemonade and set out the cookies. No biggie.” I spin on my heel before I can see his reaction and hustle to the break room.
Maybe it’s all in my imagination, but it feels like something charged and electric happened between us, and I was not prepared for the way my thoughts betrayed me. Parker is my friend, my co-worker. Nothing more. Maybe if I repeat that mantra for the rest of the workday, my misguided heart will start to believe it.