This snippet is written for Tuesday Tales, where a group of authors write to a word or picture prompt each week. This week we’re writing to the prompt ‘stoop.’ This week’s snippet is brought to you compliments of the inspiration of our fearless Tuesday Tales leader. One of her previous comments was so good that I had to incorporate it into a scene. Thanks for the puddle idea, Jean!
Enjoy the snippet here, then go check out the other delightful tales you’ll find at Tuesday Tales.
Grabbing her bag, Peggy dashed out of the car to make it to her class on time. She got to the edge of the parking lot before she stopped.
Did I lock the car?
She couldn’t click the key fob to double check. It had broken months ago. Exhaling a huge sigh towards the heavens, she ran back to the car.
Needlessly. She had locked it.
With that, she took off at a jog, out of the lot, towards the drafting class. As she rounded the corner which would make her pass by the Interior Design classroom in about fifty feet, she saw the door fly open. Mrs. Stone scuttled out, her arms full of papers and binders. She turned without seeing Peggy, much to Peggy’s relief, and strode down the hallway at full speed.
Peggy slowed to a stroll, lagging behind so she wouldn’t catch up with the almost always irritating instructor. A ringing sounded from Mrs. Stone’s jacket pocket and Peggy watched her fumbling for a phone while trying to juggle the towering stack she carried.
Trying not to laugh out loud and bring attention to her presence, Peggy watched as Mrs. Stone perched the phone precariously up to an ear while trying to keep her grip on what she carried.
Mrs. Stone stopped to try to speak in the phone and balance the papers.
Peggy stopped to avoid getting closer.
Mrs. Stone’s words bounced off the concrete sidewalk behind her. “What? Now? You can’t be serious!” In an aggravated movement, her chin tipped lower towards the phone. Her ponytail bobbed as she jerked her head in annoyance.
And as if slow motion, the silver cell phone fell from her grasp and went spiraling down, landing in a puddle in the median area left from the early morning sprinklers.
Peggy’s hand flew to her mouth, stifling the laughter that wanted to come forth. She watched Mrs. Stone try to stoop to retrieve the phone, an unsuccessful attempt.
A mix of conflicting emotions raced through Peggy. After the initial response of wanting to laugh – fortunately she’d suppressed that action – Peggy felt bad and wanted to rush and help her teacher. But on the other hand…all the petty annoyances that she’d been feeling underneath the brash and unrelenting tutelage came to the forefront and she almost enjoyed seeing the comedic incident play forth before her.
It ended up that Peggy didn’t need to channel her inner do-gooder. A squeal sounded from further down the hallway. One of the young, blond, preppy cheerleader type gals that sat in the front row at every lesson bounced down the hallway towards where the flustered instructor stood.
“Mrs. Stone, Mrs. Stone…are you okay? Do you need some help?”
As the perky barely-out-of-highschooler got closer, she spied the cell phone soaking in the shallow murky mess. “Oh my goodness! Your phone!”
She bent down and retrieved the sodden mess. Holding the recovered, dripping phone carefully between her thumb and forefinger, she offered it to Mrs. Stone.
Check out the other delightful tales you’ll find at Tuesday Tales.
Trisha Faye 