Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
My eyebrows shot up. “Are you kidding? I’m never too busy for Show and Tell.”
And later that afternoon, when I stood in the back of Mrs. Fletcher’s classroom watching Dash interact with twenty-one second graders, I knew I’d made the right choice.
Owen and Adelaide introduced him and took turns telling their classmates about their uncle, the famous actor. But when the teacher asked if anyone had ever heard of Dashiel Buckley before or watched Malibu Splash, not a single hand went up.
“Really? No one?” Mrs. Fletcher asked. “He’s probably the most famous graduate of Paddington Elementary!”
“But if we’ve never heard of him, is he really that famous?” one kid asked.
“Does he play football?” asked another.
“Is he on TikTok? Because I’m not allowed on TikTok.”
I covered my mouth and stifled a laugh.
But the kids loved the games Dash suggested they play—charades and story building and something called Mirror, Mirror in which he faced them and had to mimic their movements and expressions. I noticed how he drew even the shy kids into the games without forcing them. The students had so much fun, they didn’t even want to go out for recess and fussed when Mrs. Fletcher said they had to go outside, Show and Tell was over.
He was so good with them, got right down on the carpet, read them a story with very animated voices, and gave out high fives and hugs when Mrs. Fletcher told the kids they had to let him go.
“He’s a natural with children,” she said to me as the kids lined up to say goodbye. “Are you planning to have kids?”
“Me?” I was confused for a second, and then I realized she assumed Dash and I were a couple. “Oh, we’re just friends.”
“You’re not together?” Her jaw dropped, and she placed a hand on her chest. “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought for sure you two were an item when I saw him with you at Moe’s the other night!”
“No.” Heat rushed my face, and I’m sure my cheeks were turning red. “He was just helping me out.”
She chuckled as one of the kids hopped onto Dash’s back. “Well, he’d make a great dad.”
“He would,” I agreed.
Eventually, all the kids said their farewells and made their way out to the playground. Out in the hallway, Mrs. Fletcher thanked Dash profusely for coming. “The kids love anything to do with performing,” she said. “You even got some of the most reluctant ones out of their seats participating.”
“It was a teacher at this very school that got me into acting,” said Dash.
“Was it really? Who?”
“Her name was Ms. Walsh,” said Dash. “First grade.”
“Oh, yes.” Mrs. Fletcher nodded. “I remember Jessica Walsh. She got married and moved to Indiana. She was a great teacher.”
A student with two long braids poked her head back into the room. “Mrs. Fletcher, can we bring the big jump ropes out?”
“Sure, honey. You can grab them from the closet.” She turned to us again, shaking both our hands. “Thanks again for coming and sharing your gift with the children.”
Dash and I signed out in the office and headed outside. “I didn’t know that about you,” I said as we walked to his car. “That a teacher got you into acting.”
He opened the passenger door for me. “Yeah.”
“Was there an elementary school play or something?”
“No.” He went around to the driver’s side and got in.
“So what was it?”
He turned on the engine but left the car in park. Staring straight ahead out the windshield to where the kids were playing on the playground, he spoke quietly. “I’d stopped speaking.”
“What?” I turned to face him. “You stopped speaking?”
“Yes. After my mom died. I stopped talking at school.”
“Oh, Dash.” My heart splintered, and I put a hand on his leg. “That’s so sad. I’m sorry. God, I just want to cry right now.”
He gave me a quick smile. “It was a long time ago. No need to cry.”
“So what did the teacher do?”
“She made up a game where I played a character, a pirate squirrel or something. I think she realized that I wasn’t talking because people kept asking me if I was okay. And that I didn’t want to answer because I wasn’t.”
“Of course not.” I rubbed his thigh.
“I knew if I started talking as myself, I would cry. So Ms. Walsh gave me this character to be, which let me feel something else. Think about something else.” He shrugged. “It felt good. I would talk as long as I was in character.”
“What a great teacher,” I said appreciatively.
“She was.” He was quiet a minute, his eyes still on the kids at recess.
“So then you started speaking at school again?”
“I don’t think it was light switch fast, but yes.”
“And the love for acting stuck?”
“Yeah. It did.” He put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking spot.