The Education of Hailey Kendrick - Eileen Cook [29]
“You must be Joel,” the guy said. He turned to me with a half smile. “And you must be the guilty party coming to scrub your soul and the toilets clean.”
I didn’t say anything to him, but pleaded with Joel. “I don’t see why I can’t be assigned a project to do on my own. I could paint a classroom or something.”
“That doesn’t sound like a team player attitude,” the guy said. “You know what they say: Many hands make light work.”
Great. I was partnered up with a motivational speaker who smelled like Mr. Clean.
“Dean Winston wants you to work on the cleaning crew, not on your own,” Joel said. “This is Drew. He’ll show you around and make sure you know what needs to get done.” Joel stood there looking at both of us, his face pinched. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Don’t worry. She’s going to be washing floors, not defusing bombs in a war zone.” Drew clapped Joel on the shoulder and started walking, indicating I should follow him. I didn’t.
Joel waited until Drew had taken a few steps away. “You know if I could take your place I would. I hate to see you having to do this.”
I wasn’t sure how it had ended up that I had to be the one to comfort Joel when he was going to be able to go back to bed and I was going to be the one cleaning fly corpses out of the lamps. “It’ll be okay. Cleaning is good exercise. It’s like a step class, only more productive.” Joel squeezed my hand and then left, looking as if he were dropping me off at the executioner.
A disbelieving snort came from behind me. I spun and saw Drew standing there next to a cleaning cart. He rolled it over to me. “Do you want to push the cart? Really feel the calorie burn?”
I pressed my lips into a thin tight line and yanked the cart over. I must have pulled too hard, because the mop flew off and the handle smacked me right between the eyes. Drew gave another snort as he choked back a laugh.
“Do you think that’s funny? If that had bleach on it, I could be blind.”
“You look okay, Helen Keller. I’m guessing it takes more to keep you down than you think. Let’s get going before you amputate a finger with the dustpan. It’s got that sharp edge, you know. Careful. There’s a feather duster, too. It might be full of bird flu germs.”
I shoved the giant Rubbermaid cart ahead of me and walked away before he could make fun of me anymore. One wheel was stuck and wouldn’t turn, so I wasn’t able to make the dramatic exit I had been hoping for.
I rolled the cart into the first classroom and looked around, wondering where we were supposed to start.
“We need to wash all the desks down with disinfectant, mop the floors, wash the windows, and give everything else a quick wipe down. You do know how to clean, don’t you, Prima Donna? I’m hoping you learned something watching your maid all those years.”
I didn’t dignify his comment with an answer. It was true I had always had a maid, but it had never struck me as a job that required a lot of experience. I was pretty sure I could figure it out.
Drew bent over and started to pull various bottles and rags out of the cart. “You can pick what you want to tackle. The desks are easy. You might want to start with that and work up to the hard stuff.” He looked up at me, and when I didn’t comment, he tossed a rag and a can in my direction.
I looked at the can. It was some kind of industrial cleaner, most likely able to eat my flesh off if I got it on my skin. It looked way less user friendly than the organic, good-for-the-environment cleaner that my dad’s cleaning service uses. I flipped the can over so I could see the warning label.
“Have you had any formal training for this job?” I asked Drew.
He looked over the mop bucket at me. “How did you know I got my master’s degree in this?”
“I’m being serious. You know if you mix some cleaning supplies you can create chlorine gas? It can kill people.”
Drew smacked his forehead. “Ah, that explains what