Chapter Iris
Iris
The halls are filled with chatting students and slamming lockers before the first bell. I’m halfway to my classroom when I see Vice Principal Holloway coming toward me, a stack of papers tucked under his arm. “Iris,” he says with a nod, slowing his long stride.
His voice is steady, the way it always is, but lately there’s a warmth there too, replacing his typical monotone indifference.
He pulls an envelope from the pile he’s carrying. “This is for you.” He hands it over carefully. “Ms. Price made me promise to hand-deliver it.”
“I’ve been meaning to reach out to her,” I stare down at the envelope.
He studies me with a tilt to his head. “How are you doing?” His voice is quiet, the question simple but not at all casual. I think about giving him the easy answer, but honestly, he’s been one of the few people here who hasn’t looked at me any differently.
“Better than I was last week,” I tell him. “Still getting the occasional angry email.”
He nods once. “You’re handling yourself well. Better than. I’m not sure I’d have your patience.” The corner of his mouth lifts, the closest thing to a smile you’re going to get from him. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
I match his imitation of a smile, feeling the same way these days. “That means a lot.”
He clears his throat, glancing at the passing students. “Better get moving. Second period’s about to start.”
“Oh, before I forget,” I reach for his arm to get his attention. “Did you ever get a chance to write that letter of recommendation?”
“I did. I’ll email it to you this afternoon.”
Relief makes my shoulders drop. “Thank you, Mr. Holloway.”
His thick eyebrows come together at the name. “I thought I told you to call me Theo.”
“It feels weird calling you by your name. You’re my boss,” I say with a shrug, earning a scoff from my new friend.
“I think we’re past that,” he says, stepping aside to let a group of freshmen hurry past. I nod, tucking the envelope into my bag for later.
I don’t plan on calling him anything but Mr. Holloway anytime soon.
That’s just him.
When I look up, Holloway is gone, but I see Nate, standing near a group of students from the football team, his gaze locked on me. I meet it for only a moment before looking away.
I haven’t spoken to Nate in three months.
I tell myself it’s better this way, but my heart doesn’t seem to agree.
The afternoon sun shines through the large windows of my classroom, painting golden patches across the empty desks. The voices of the remaining students in the hall fade into the background as I finally get a moment to myself.
I pull the envelope from my bag.
My name is written neatly across the front in familiar handwriting, Ms. Price’s. I break the seal carefully, unfolding the letter with trembling hands.
My dear Iris,
I hope this letter finds you in a peaceful moment, when you can breathe and even smile, despite the trouble you’ve gone through. I regret to tell you that I was made aware of what happened, and I’ve been thinking of you a lot these past weeks.
Mostly about the courage it must take to stand in your truth every day in a place like Rosehill.
Watching you grow into the woman you were always meant to be was a gift, and knowing that you’re back, doing exactly what you dreamed of…
Proud doesn’t begin to cover how I feel.
If you ever want to catch up, please don’t hesitate to reach out. It would be wonderful to hear your voice again.
Take care of yourself, Iris. And remember, you’re never alone.
With love,
Lily Price
The words sink in like a balm, soothing a part of me I thought was gone. A reminder that someone out there truly believes in me.
I never meant to go this long without visiting Ms. Price.
She changed my life.
She was there for me when no one else was. Understood, on some level, that I was going through something and chose to be there with me every step of the way. With this letter, she’s providing me with that same sense of comfort she used to when I was a student here.
I’m rereading the words when there’s a knock on my open door. I look up to find familiar pink hair, followed by Emily. “Addie, I didn’t know we had art lessons today.”
“We don’t, I just forgot my sketchbook. We’re going to the festival!”
Right.
The Spring Festival.
I smile at Addie as she rambles on about all the rides she’s making her best friend go on. “Uh, Addie,” Emily starts as they’re heading back out the door. “You mind if I talk to Ms. Patel alone real quick?”
“Okay!” she says with a bright smile and a wave. “Bye, Ms. Patel!”
Emily stays by the door, staring at me with a nervous expression. I wait for her to say something, a bit confused because I don’t even have her in class.
She doesn’t say anything, and after a tense minute, I speak up. “What is it, Emily? Is everything okay?”
She shifts from foot to foot. Her hands fidget with the strap of her backpack, twisting and untwisting as she forces the words out. “I think I might be like you.” I frown, not knowing what she’s talking about, but she continues, “I don’t feel… right. As a girl. And when I heard about you…”
I stand up and meet her where she’s at, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I see. Thank you for telling me that, Emily. I know it’s not an easy thing to say out loud.”
“I don’t know if I want to do anything yet,” she says, looking down at the floor. “Or tell people. Oh man, what would Addie think?”
She looks up at me with wide eyes, and I completely understand that feeling. I give her what I hope is an encouraging smile.
“You don’t have to have all the answers right now. No one does. But if you need to talk, or need someone who might understand how you’re feeling, my door is always open.”
I can see her body relax as some of the anxiety eases from her expression. “Thanks, Ms. Patel. That means a lot,” she pauses before adding, “I guess Addie was right about you. You are pretty cool.”
“Emily?” I call after her when she starts out of the classroom. “You don’t have to worry about Addie. I see the way she looks at you. She’s not going anywhere.”
Her cheeks turn a rosy shade as she sputters out, “Oh, uh, right, t-thanks.” I cover my mouth, suppressing a laugh.
Emily huffs, rolling her eyes, but she doesn’t deny my implication.
I knew there was something going on there.
Sinking into my chair with a sigh, I look back down at the letter from Ms. Price still open on my desk. The room feels heavy, Emily’s words still hovering in the air. My fingers trace the edge of the paper, and for a moment, I’m lost in a memory of myself at Emily’s age, terrified and unsure.
Sitting at my desk, in the room that shaped who I am, I can’t help but think that if knowing the truth about me helps my students, maybe some good can come from this.
The square is packed tonight.
Kids are running around, dragging their parents to the small rides. Couples are walking hand in hand through the booths of homemade items. A band is preparing to play on the gazebo.
It’s Rosehill at its best.
“Come on, Iris. You’ve been cooped up in your apartment since everything happened. Getting out will do you some good.” I drag my feet, but I can’t resist Layla when she’s adamant about me doing something.
There’s no point in trying.
Unfortunately, Grant is beside her, staring down at his phone. He’s been wearing that look on his face that says he’d rather be anywhere else since the moment we got here. I’ve only met him a couple of times, but I can’t help but think that Nate’s assessment of him is correct.
He could at least try to act like he’s having a good time for Layla’s sake.
“Grant,” Layla leans into him, “Get off your phone, c’mon, this is fun.”
He looks down at her and slowly puts his phone away. “Maybe if you’re a child. I don’t see why we had to come.”
I swallow past the tightness in my throat. Every time I’ve had the pleasure of spending time with Grant, he acts like everything is below him, including Layla. I feel like I should say something, but I know it’s not my place.
And they do seem happy together, even if I don’t see the appeal.
“Everyone needs a break,” Layla says, ignoring the jab and flashing him a smile that could melt anyone’s heart. “Besides, the food’s amazing.”
He glances sideways at her. “If you could even call it food.”
I bite my lip and watch a little girl get a butterfly painted on her cheek.
Layla nudges me gently. “Ignore him. He’s just cranky.”
“I don’t see why you made her come anyway. It’s not like someone like her is wanted here. It’s probably better to stay home.”
Ouch.
I try to ignore him, the way Layla said. But how can I when I know he’s right?
I haven’t gotten out much these past few months. There are just too many eyes pointed my way. Too many people whispering about me. I can even see it here, people looking at me, like they’re trying to glimpse the truth about what they’ve heard.
Grant did the same thing, looking me up and down, looking for something wrong.
It makes my skin crawl to think about it.
Layla frowns at Grant, and I can tell she’s about to come to my defense, but I’m distracted by someone calling my name.
“Iris!” Alex shouts with a wave, coming toward us.
“Alex, hi!” My smile comes easily at the sight of Nate’s brother in his typical band tee and smudged eyeliner. We spent a lot of time together when I was dating Nate, and losing my relationship with him was one of the more sad outcomes of our breakup.
My happiness wavers slightly when I can feel Grant watching. Judging. Alex seems to notice, too, glaring his way as he approaches.
“Hey,” he says, stepping closer. “You doing okay?”
I nod, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m getting there. Thanks for asking.” Grant scoffs under his breath, and Alex narrows his eyes.
Layla steps in, squeezing my arm in a silent apology. “Alex, we were about to grab some food. You want to come?”