Snowed In

Wind howled around the school as I glanced over at Mr. D, wondering what we should do. The last student had just been picked up by a parent with a big truck, and they were sliding down the steep hill. Looking at our small cars, I didn't think either of us had a shot at making it out of the parking lot, let alone home.

The other teachers and administrators had children to collect and dogs at home, and so we'd volunteered to stay with the students waiting for parent pickup. Mr. D, I'd guessed, was living with his parents, though he hadn't shouted it from the rooftops. Not that it was anything to be ashamed of - he'd told me he was retraining as a teacher, switching careers from international business.

"Are you going to try to go home?" I asked, the anxiety slipping into my voice more than I'd intended.

We should have had a snow day, even had we only gotten the predicted snowfall amounts. But the high-up administrators hadn't wanted to disrupt parental work schedules on a weather event that hadn't started yet, adding another day to make up in June, if they could help it.

Once the snow did start coming down around 9 a.m., it fell faster than I'd ever seen in my life. And since my life included forty-plus Michigan winters and the worst winter ever recorded here, that was no minor feat. We were getting more than an inch per hour of very fine powder, and the wind was blowing it into steep drifts. It wasn't fluffy pretty movie snow - it was the scary kind.

The school day had been called off early, and buses came. Those kids were hopefully home and warm now, tucked up with their video games and pizza. Buses had massive tires and an early start on the storm, so they'd made it through.

We, however, now had a dilemma. Small cars can be great on the slippery types of precipitation we normally got, but I knew from experience that this would be too much snow for my front wheel drive.

When these things happened, there were always a handful of students whose parents were late. Even if they left work the moment they heard school had early release, two hours later they'd still be calling in from the road, frazzled and panicky apologies flowing. That was the nature of a snowstorm - a one-hour commute became several. One parent was a nurse who couldn't just run out of the hospital and leave her patients. We understood.

Someone had to stay with the kids. We'd played card games and told stories, trying to keep their minds off the worry and keep them from getting too excited. Middle schoolers were nuts sometimes.

I don't think either of us had really considered the position we were putting ourselves in. This was an oddly-placed school, a rural middle school in an otherwise suburban district. It took several dirt roads to get there. I'd guessed that the land must have been cheap - that's the only possible reason to build so far out from paved roads. As a substitute teacher, I opted for other schools once the dirt road got so bumpy it reminded me with each bounce how much I'd spent on my suspension recently. But today I was here, miles of dirt road away from home.

With the drifting going on and the fact that secondary roads probably wouldn't be plowed for hours, I didn't think my little car would make it around the hills and curves. Zero vehicles had gone by in the past hour, other than the truck that had picked up the last student, so I knew the snow was just falling and blowing around out there. Not a good prognosis.

"Well," said Mr. D, "to be honest, I'm not sure my Golf can make it."

"I was thinking the same thing. And I don't want to get stuck on a dirt road and have to sit in the cold. I have less than a quarter tank left. That was not wise of me."

"We should probably wait here until the plow truck comes by. I think I could make it down the hill, but I'm not sure even the turn onto the road would be safe. The snow is drifting right across there."

"I know. You're right." My voice fell, my disappointment clear. I'd been looking forward to microwaved leftovers, movies on my cozy couch, and blessed private silence after a long day.

"My boss just texted. The PM custodian couldn't make it in. We are the only people here."

"Can I swear now that the kids are gone? Shit. Merde, I learned in French today. I guess we should make a plan. The first thing I'll do is plug in my phone in case the power goes out. And jeez, this was such a dumb outfit for a snowstorm. I'll grab my other clothes from the car."

"You do look nice today, though," Mr. D said, glancing at my dress and ankle boots.

"Thanks," I said, with a semi-smile. I pulled on my coat and hood and prepared to bolt. "Would you open the locked door for me?"

Mr. D waited inside as I went through the vestibule and opened the outer doors. The wind swirled around me, sharply bitter and pelting my face with tiny shards of ice as I plunged through the piled snow. I was buffeted around when I slowed down, so I rushed my steps as I approached my car, holding my dress down. I thought to grab my car blankets, too, and even my snowpants, leftover from a sledding excursion with my nieces. It wouldn't hurt. Anything warm.

Too bad I didn't have decent food or more supplies though. If only it'd been one of those days when I'd stocked up at Costco but been too tired to carry all of the boxes out of the car. I was starving.

Mr. D let me back into the building. While the cold sprint had been invigorating, I was grateful to be back in the still air.

"Balmy out there," I said.

Lamest Michigan joke ever, I thought. Why did I always say such dumb things around this man.

"My boss texted again. I hate to tell you this, but the county just called shelter in place. No one is allowed to travel, only emergency vehicles, and they even pulled the plow trucks off the road until the snow stops."

"So in three minutes we went from this being a choice to a mandated thing. Got it." I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"I know. It sucks." Mr. D glanced up from his phone and looked at me vaguely.

"The people in the rally houses might take us in. If we want to walk there." This school was so rural that the rally point, the place we'd all go if the school had to be evacuated, was actually two neighboring houses with sizeable barns. Normally it was a nearby church or store, but here there was no other choice. They must be decent people.

"I'm sure they would," Mr. D said, "but it's a long walk. I saw the wind was blowing you sideways."

"They also probably only have a couple bathrooms, and everyone has wells here. So if the power goes out, ew."

"That's a good point. Plenty of bathrooms here."

"I grew up in the country. It was the grossest thing about power outages. Okay, so we are staying. We do have to plan for the power to go out. What is the warmest part of the school, maybe? Definitely not the library. It was 55 degrees in there today and everyone had their coats on. And while we ponder that, I might need to raid some fridges and cupboards. I'm starving."

This school was odd not just for the rural location but for its spider-like sprawling campus - with a very long glassed-in corridor linking three otherwise separate sections on a hillside. And though it was a fairly new building, some wings were chilly even on the nicest winter days. We'd need to think this through and gather supplies before it got dark. Just in case.

"You take charge. I like that. I noticed it the first time we worked together," Mr. D said, smiling.

"Years of leading event production teams. But I'm guessing we'll have plenty of time to talk about that later. I hope some of these teachers left their doors open. The classroom I was in today had a little space heater, so I'll grab that. Another teacher has a basket of flashlights. Oh, and one has a snack cupboard. I'll meet you at the locker pods. Bonus points if you find Valentine's chocolate someone left behind!"

I left my coat and bags in a pile on the salty floor.

As I powerwalked to the furthest hallway in the building, I was trying not to admit to myself that the whole reason I'd agreed to stay with Mr. D this afternoon was that I was magnetically charged to follow him around. I felt like a little puppy at my master's heels just hoping to be cute enough for a petting. It was absolutely ridiculous, but thankfully I hid it well. Even if that meant I was a bit brusque sometimes.

I'd met him at a different school, and we'd had such a delightful conversation straight out that I felt instantly connected. It'd been the oddest thing, but I'd been seeking that ever since. I hadn't known he'd been switched back to this building, his temporary reassignment complete. I hadn't known I'd see him today.

He was a surprising person, and I'd picked up on his high education level. Paraprofessionals were usually friendly and dedicated people, doing hard work for very little pay to help students who needed an extra hand to make it through. But they usually weren't well educated and well-traveled, so meeting Mr. D had stunned me awake. On top of that, he showed a level of conscientiousness, maturity, and caring that I'd rarely seen in any parapro. His job was making the students' lives better, and he truly put them first, even as they had meltdowns or refused simple requests. He knew how to attune with them and help them through. He was truly a gem, and many staff had recognized it.

And when he sang, I almost lost it. Anyone in the room was enchanted. I had to shake myself out of my trance and pay attention to the kids. He'd made up a song to go with the student playing the xylophone, and it was just unlike any other experience I'd had in a school. It was wonderful to be around him.

Plus I couldn't stop myself from looking at him when he walked by. His clothes fit well, a rarity in Midwest American life. This made more sense when I figured out that he was European, which I'd gathered from eavesdropping on conversations. I had about a hundred questions I'd wanted to ask him for weeks. He was handsome in a studious way that drove me nuts. Tall and well-proportioned with glasses had always done something to me, and he took that image to the pinnacle. He even wore flattering sweaters a Hallmark movie hero would envy.

When I was near him I was usually one sentence or two away from what could cross over into sexual harassment of a colleague, if it was unwanted. I'd never felt this attracted to someone I was working with before.

Over Christmas break I'd googled him several times in several ways, hoping to learn more about him. But failing every time.

And of all days, today was Valentine's Day. The teachers here liked to decorate, and pink and red garland and hearts were inescapable. Could anything make this situation more awkward? I might need to summon all of my self-control.

I would be solely professional. I would.

I glued myself together while I gathered flashlights and food. I managed to raid the ELA rooms of their blankets and pillows in silent reading nooks. Normally I wouldn't want to touch the germy things, but if the power went out they'd be handy, if not necessary.

Fifteen minutes or so later, Mr. D was waiting for me in the locker pods.

"I think we should use the special ed classroom right above the boiler room in C wing," he said. "I'm always too hot there. It might hold more heat, and it has one set of windows but ground level access."

I nodded. "That makes sense. It's smaller than the other classrooms. Carpeted. Less furniture, too. The little rooms like the social workers' offices have no windows, and I'm claustrophobic. It's a good place to start, anyway, and we can keep thinking."

"Yeah, it wouldn't be safe to sleep in a windowless room anyway, especially if the power goes out and the fire alarms don't work..."

"Good point."

Mr. D had grabbed the enormous bean bags from his special ed room, and we hauled everything to our new home base.

My mind was still clicking through, trying to focus on preparing for what might happen tonight even as being in proximity to Mr. D was distracting me to the Nth level. It didn't help that he held out half a bag of chocolate kisses he'd found, too.

"You are my hero!"

"I've got an assignment due at 9," he said, smiling a little. "I'd like to get that in if I can. I was going straight home to finish before all of this happened."

"No problem," I said. "I'll keep wandering around and looking for stuff. You do your thing."

I remembered what grad school was like. Assignment after assignment after reading after paper after assignment.

Plus, walking around would give me a moment to contain myself again. I felt a little too warm and loose when I was near him.

I changed into my spare clothes, some leggings and a long shirt I kept in my car in case someone peed or puked on me. And blessedly, a sports bra. Topped with my cardigan, I'd be fine as long as the heat stayed on. I let my hair out of its French twist, too. It felt strange to down-shift to informal in a place where I had to be professional at all times, hallway cameras still rolling every nanosecond of the day.

I found some frozen meals in a teachers' lounge fridge and left an IOU. Most of the staff would have thought this was silly and freely given us their food for any reason, but there's always one or two teachers in a building who'll hold using their supplies against you. Even in a weather emergency. The kind who locked up their sticky notes when a substitute would be around.

Obviously the cafeteria had tons of food, but we wouldn't touch that. I was sure there was endless liability involved. Substitute teachers have no protections and can be fired for anything anyone wants to allege, so I didn't risk anything. I wouldn't even grab one of the free apples when someone offered.

I found several insulated cups, too, and washed them out. I figured filling them with hot tea and coffee would be harmless overkill if the power stayed on but a small comfort if it didn't.

I was keeping a running list of my borrows and leaving IOUs all over the school. It was a regular treasure hunt.

I took the meals back to Mr. D and gave him first choice of bland but filling food. He appreciated the warm meal and the hot coffee while he got back to work, hunched over his laptop at a student desk. I turned the SmartBoard to a crackling fire on YouTube, a technique I often used to calm students - and myself - down and give us something pleasant to dwell on. I turned on the space heater full blast and closed the flimsy blinds, too, trying to think of any way to conserve heat. I let down the nightlock shades on the classroom door and looked for something to shove under the crack and stop the inevitable draft if the heat went out.

When I was walking the hallways I couldn't hear it much, but once back in the room the howling wind was incessant. On a primal level, it unsettled the soul. It was fully night outside now, though the white of the snow still reflected the outdoor lights. I wondered if anyone was thinking about us stuck here.

"I've been thinking," he said. "I took a survival class in the Alps years ago, and they said the best way to stay warm is to share a small space, combine our body heat. That's why so many castles had canopy beds, with the heavy curtains. Even a tent is better than nothing. We can build something like that. This building doesn't retain heat well, so just in case."

"I like how you just slipped that in there - you took a survival class in the Alps." I laughed. "But good point. Like a little cave. Any ideas for walls?"

The mental image of sleeping next to him was giving me new life goals. I was now in fact wishing for a power outage.

"How about gym mats? The cheerleaders use them at practice so I know they must be around. Hopefully they aren't locked up. Or too stinky."

"Well, stinky might be our fate tonight. At least they'd Velcro together and be good insulators. I'll go look for them. Great idea."

"I'm sorry to keep working..."

"Don't even worry about it. I prefer having something to do. I'll be back."

Distance also keeps me from thinking about touching you. Fortunately I didn't say that part out loud.

I found a cart and rolled six gym mats back to home base. I was used to hefting large things from my production tour days. I tried not to disturb Mr. D too much as I assembled a cave.

"Done," said Mr. D, closing his laptop.

We cobbled together a decent-sized cave with the mats. It really was a great idea, if it came to that. With the bean bags and pillows inside, hopefully we could get a decent night's sleep.

"I think you're going to have to finally tell me your name. I only know you as Mr. D," I said as we worked, sneaking a look into his eyes.

He smiled. "It's Hans. But not a bad Hans, thanks Frozen."

I laughed.

"I'm Rachel. Please don't ever call me Ms. P again." I smiled.

"Are you from Germany? I heard you speaking German, I thought, one day leaving school."

"Yes, I was talking to my sister. My family moved here when I was in high school, so my father could work at a car company. I've been back and traveled a lot, but my family has been here ever since."

"Ahhh. That makes sense now. A couple of times when I interrupted you with a question, it seemed like you were shifting gears in your head or searching for a word. But you don't have an accent so I wasn't sure."

"Yes, German was my first language. How are you doing? You seemed irritated to be stuck here."

"I'll get over it. We're safe, and we'll be okay. How about you?"

"Relieved to have that assignment done, but more due tomorrow. I should work while I can. That wind is pretty fierce, and the power doesn't stand a chance."

"No problem. I found an iPad and may take the risk of watching Netflix on it. I can beg for forgiveness later if it doesn't meet school guidelines..."

He laughed, and I settled into my giant beanbag with pillows, headphones, and devices. Cuddled under a blanket, I caught up on social media and email for the day. I texted my parents and sisters my location and that I was safe and not to worry.

I preferred distracting myself to thinking about what a night here would mean. Dark schools had always creeped me out - just too many possibilities and places to hide. All the slasher movies set in them didn't help.

The room was lit with two lamps and the fake crackling fire video. Following the education trend of home-like environments, this school's teachers had provided alternatives with gusto, and we were reaping the benefits. The schools of my youth would have had none of these cozy items.

I snuck a glance at Hans once in a while, his concentration rapt on his laptop. I didn't envy his workload.

The awkward became more comfortable as we settled in. I was able to mostly ignore the warm pull I felt toward him and just tried to enjoy some travel videos on YouTube. I made quick work of the chocolate kisses, too.

And then it happened, sometime around 11. The power flickered a couple times, and then it was out for good.

"Well then," I said, taking off my headphones. I was glad we'd made the room so toasty.

Hans sighed.

"You can't work without internet, eh."

"No."

I walked toward him with the little flashlights I'd pilfered, so he'd have his own.

"There are about 30 of these, so use at will," I said. "At least the cameras are out now. I hate cameras."

"I should go hunt for a couple more things before it gets cold."

I cracked the blinds and looked outside. There were various gray shapes in the snow, some trees at a distance before fading into night. Snow was still coming down, though not as hard. The problem now would be the brutal wind whistling around the building, and the drifts.

I moved the bean bags, blankets, and pillows into the cave. We'd made a roof with a mat and left a couple thin vent slits to be covered by blankets. I couldn't bear the thought of being completely enclosed, so it was a fair compromise.