Art of Growing
“…So I moved my two dark, three-dimensional circles out of the dark, and beheld the terrifying sight of-”
Amber smiles, the corners of her lips quirking up, before she hides it with a long sip of soda. Every time James tells that particular story, he embellishes it a little more. Never to the point of being false, because James rather rigidly sticks to his belief that honesty is the best policy, but substituting in longer ways to say things. The number of ways he’s found to say that his eyes opened is frankly astonishing at this point. But the child he’s talking to and gesticulating in front of begins to stop crying. She’s looking up at him and breaking out into weak giggles every now and then, and Amber feels a rush of fondness before turning her attention back to the other children.
They’re loudly gesturing, and they’ve made sure to include everyone, the way she and James have been encouraging them to do. But it seems that they were nearly done planning, as the mass of students breaks up and attends to their plants. Jake, Edward, and Maria are trying to grow a sunflower, and it’s already starting poking up from the dirt. Abigail and George are tending to marigolds. The others had beamed up at her and said it was a secret, but she had been promised that they were flowers and not trees.
“So hey, everything’s okay. My teacher told me something similar when I broke a cup. We can get a new pot of soil, if you’d like, but this isn’t something that’s being graded, and we’re not upset. The most important thing is that you’re alright. Do you feel better?” The girl looks a little calmer now, and less distraught. She nods. “Alright then, wanna remind me what Ms. Amber taught us?” James asks warmly, and the girl stands up straight, with confidence, and leads him through the steps.