I teach a yoga class after school most days. I've been doing this forever. When I was really little, Mom used to come pick me up at school and then take me to the yoga studio to hang out for a while, until she was done with her day. This was before she owned her own yoga studio, and her boss was always complaining about having a kid around, as if I were a ton of trouble or something, when all I used to do was sit there quietly and watch. You'd think watching things was a crime, the way some people react to you when you watch things.
Eventually Mom got fed up, and Mother said she should just have her own yoga studio. Mom said she has no head for business, and Mother said, That's why you have me, and so now we have a yoga studio. It's called Otherworld Yoga. I asked why it was called that once, and Mom said it was because yoga connects us to the other world that's out there, where we're truly from. Mom says stuff like that, like we're aliens or something, but what she means is just that there's so much more out there than we know.
I love our yoga studio. It's in an old house on the East Side of Providence that's been converted over to businesses. On one side of us is an acupuncturist, and on the other side is a person who makes special herbal teas. Mother says they are good complementary businesses for our yoga studio. Above us is the dermatologist who owns the building, who has an office and also lives up there. I think she doesn't know what to make of her weird tenants, but she's nice.
Once Mom got her own studio, she said I could start teaching if I logged enough hours, and it's not like I had a whole bunch of better things to do, so I did it, and now I have one after-school class to run four days a week. Sometimes people from school come, and I coach them through downward-facing dogs and stuff, and I think we could be friendlier than we are. They're nice and welcoming, and sometimes they'll say they're going to grab smoothies after class and ask if I want to come. And I always make up some excuse why I can't go. I don't know why I'm like this. Why do I curse myself? I could have friends, I just don't, and I'm mostly okay with that. Does that mean there's something wrong with me?
Most of the time when I'm teaching, the only thing I'm thinking about is teaching. That's the thing about yoga: you're asking your body to do such funny things so that you can wipe your mind clean. It gives all of your thinking muscles a little break while you work your other muscles. But today when I teach, I'm thinking about Trow Reading and his untidy wheat-colored hair. Trow and I have American literature together and AP U.S. history. Those classes aren't alphabetically seated, and so Sophie and her pack commandeered Trow to sit with them. And at lunch too, of course. But it's fine, because I spend lunch meditating.
And anyway, I get to have Trow in front of me every single morning in homeroom. Plenty of time to get to know him better.
Which is weird, because I've never been interested in a boy before. I mean, not like Trow. I've seen cute boys before, but I've never been thinking about the next time I'm going to talk to them. And I've only said a few sentences to him. What's up with that? What's up with me?
I can't balance during tree pose because my focus is so off, and Mom says later, "Your poses were a little messy tonight, kiddo."
"Yeah," I say with a little sigh and pull a glass of apple-infused water over to me. "I know."
Mom looks at me closely. "Was it a good first day at school?"
I think of Trow. I don't even know how to begin to bring up Trow, what to say about him. What could I possibly say? There's a new boy in homeroom. I like him. Oh my God, that sounds so vapid and stupid, like I'm a teenager on some MTV reality show or something.
I look at Mom and say honestly with a little smile, "Yeah. It was actually a really good day, Mom."
