Just a note about Lucy's job. While John Q. Adams is a fictitious school, it is based on the three different schools I have taught in. For those of you who might wonder, yes, public schools in the U.S. are this bad and the students do have these problems and much worse. The stories of her students are a conglomeration of various students I have had (I did not use any real student's name). I'm just saying, fund our public schools and be nice to your teachers. We put up with a lot and are for the most part doing our best.
The day had finally come. Scheduling a visit from an Avenger turned out to be a logistical nightmare, but we made it work. Our principle, Dr. Ramirez had been fussing around the school all week, hastily covering peeling paint and strategically placing furniture over holes in the carpet. "Maybe he can get his friend, Tony Stark, to give us some money." I had heard her muttering while while painting over a rusted locker.
I had been given the morning to decorate the assembly hall and organize our student volunteers. The hall itself was nothing special, and it felt tacky to post a bunch of Americana decor, so I settled for a few old war bonds and recruitment posters from my own personal collection. We had decided the best way for this to work was to allocate forty-five minutes where all the history students would be in the hall listening to Steve. This included time for a question and answer session.
There were ten minutes left until students would begin filing in when Dr. Ramirez walked in with Steve. I wasn't sure if he would elect to wear his uniform or not and was happy to see he had gone semi-casual in jeans and a button-up. My breath hitched when he made eye contact with me. I'm a professional, but not immune to blue eyes and a dimpled smile.
"We're one of the poorer districts in the area." Ramirez was explaining to Steve, always looking for more funding. "But we make do with what we have."
I approached before she could start hitting up for Tony Stark's personal number. "Captain Rogers - Steve. It's good to see you again. Thanks for this!" I shook his hand and felt much more relaxed than I did in the coffee shop. The school was my domain, nothing could rattle me there.
Steve was an amazing speaker. I knew that early in the war he performed at USO shows and he seemed to get back to his roots. He even got the crowd to laugh a few times. I also noticed the topics he avoided. The speech was focused on the war and the '40s, but he tactfully avoided any stories of fighting or violence. He talked about the camaraderie between soldiers, about standing up for what was right, but not about fighting itself.
"Thank you Captain Rogers." I walked up to the podium once Steve was done talking. "We have a few students who submitted questions if you're ready for those?"
"Bring 'em on." Steve spoke into the microphone and flashed his award winning smile at the kids.
I had prescreened a ton of questions and selected the top ten to ask at the assembly. Most of them were about the war or the Avengers, I even jokingly let one student ask if he could have Black Widow's number. Finally, it was Briasia's turn. Briasia was an absolute sweetheart despite coming from one of the worst home situations I had ever encountered. She was one of a complicated mix of step and half siblings and had been removed from her home last year to be placed in foster care. The police had taken in her mother and step-father on three counts of child abuse and drug possession. Since then, she had been shuffled around the system with very little stability. Despite these odds, sweet Briasia was a top student and told me she wanted to be social worker. Knowing her story made her question extra poignant to me.
"Captain America," she read from a 3x5 notecard. "My name's Briasia. Here's my question. When you were fighting in the war, or with the Avengers were you ever scared or did you want to give up?"
Steve hesitated. For the first time, he seemed to be caught off-guard. "You know what Briasia, yes to both. I lost my best friend in the war, then I woke up in a completely different world, I'm still trying to figure out how cell phones work." The group chuckled a little at him while he sighed and looked down for a minute. "I woke up an everyone I had ever known was gone. And I met new people and they were threatened, the whole world was threatened so I fought again. And, I was scared, and sometimes I thought about quitting, but you know why I didnt, Briasia?"
"Why?" Briasia's voice was barely above a whisper. The whole assembly was hanging on his every word.
"Because," Steve continued on, his voice soft. "I've seen how the world changed, and it's changed a lot. The thing is, technology has changed, but people haven't. When I look around me all I can see is that there are still good people in the world and I have the ability to help them. It's scary, and I get really tired of being shot at, but when you really believe in something, you can't give up. Even when you want to, even when it's hard and it hurts, and especially when you're scared, you have to keep moving forward."
"Thank you, Captain." My voice was breaking and tears were pooling in my eyes threatening to fall. "Students, follow the hall monitors out and you can head to your homerooms. Let's hear it for Captain America."
The students all clapped and started out. I turned away from the crowd to collect myself and caught Steve staring at me. I wiped at my eyes and smoothed my pencil skirt.
"Are you alright?" Once again, he looked at me with concern written all over his face.
"I'm fine." I smiled to show him I was telling the truth. "I cry at everything, and what you ended with there, well, it was very beautiful."
"Well, I just tried to be honest. I'm betting that girl's been through the ringer."
"You have no idea. Thank you again for coming." I started to pack up my framed posters and generally tidy around the stage. There was a choir concert the next night and I knew the director liked having the stage pristine.
"Where did you get all these posters? They look pretty authentic." Steve commented as he examined Uncle Sam pointing at any passers by, telling them the U.S. Army wanted them.
I was proud of my collection so found myself grinning that he thought they 'looked authentic.' "That's because they are authentic. I collect them. That one was in an attic in New Jersey for about seventy years."
"What interests you about them?" Steve was still holding the picture, looking lost in a memory.
"Well," I had to think carefully, no one had ever asked me that. "I think it's that they tell a story. You know, I actually was working on a doctorate in history for a time. I've ready dozens and dozens of books on the war, but these posters actually let me see history. I can picture some young kid looking at it and heading to the nearest recruiting station."
It occurred to me that Steve probably had been that kid. I saw the exhibit in the Smithsonian, he was that kid. The air in the assembly hall seemed suddenly thick as I studied him and he studied me, both lost in our own thoughts. I jumped when I heard the bell ring, indicating it was time for a new class period.
"I better get going. No telling what will happen if I'm late for class." It was true. I was late once and came in to find a desk broken in half. Guests were supposed to be escorted, but I didn't think security would get upset at Steve for finding his own way out.
"Do you want me to carry these to your room?" Steve was holding my posters.
"Oh my gosh, no. Here, let me take them. I don't expect you to help me clean!" I awkwardly took the pile from him.
"Ok." If I didn't know any better, I would have said Steve looked disappointed. "Well I'll see around the Lincoln, right? Best coffee in the city."
My heart fluttered involuntarily. There was no way he actually meant what I thought he meant, he was just being nice, not flirting. "I'll probably be there." Play it cool. I told myself. Don't seem too eager. "Hope to see you again soon."
I turned and started walking to my classroom. My stomach was doing flip-flops the whole way there. This couldn't be happening, no way was I falling for Steve. No way was I considering opening myself up again.