Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Amber
T here has to be a full moon.
The classroom feels like a war zone today. Since the first bell rang this morning, there have been arguments, tears, and absolute chaos all day long. A dog ran in the front door to the lunchroom and took someone’s bologna sandwich right out of their hand.
That’s more than enough excitement for a school day.
Twenty minutes later, two of my normally quiet students got into a very loud screaming match at recess.
The last bell rang an hour ago, but the chaos hasn’t stopped. Two girls sit in front of me, both red-eyed from crying, their arms crossed and jaws tight. I can feel the tension crackling between them, like a live wire ready to snap.
“Okay,” I say, keeping my voice calm but firm. “Let’s start from the beginning. What happened?”
“She called me a liar!” Emily blurts out, her voice trembling.
“Because you are!” Mia shoots back, her cheeks flushing with anger.
“Girls,” I say gently, raising a hand to stop the volley before it escalates. “Take a deep breath. One at a time.”
Emily huffs but nods, her arms dropping to her sides. “Mia said I told Ethan she likes him, but I didn’t! I swear!”
Mia rolls her eyes dramatically. “Then how does he know? He’s been teasing me all day!”
“I like him, too, and you know that! I wouldn’t tell someone I like that another girl likes him. You probably told him!” Emily cries out.
I take a deep breath myself, trying to keep the exhaustion at bay. It’s been one of those days—spilled milk cartons, forgotten homework, and now this. But I remind myself that they’re kids. Everything feels monumental at their age.
“Emily,” I say, turning to her first, “how long have you and Mia been friends?”
“Since second grade,” she mumbles, picking at the hem of her shirt.
“And how long have you known Ethan?”
Emily hesitates, then shrugs. “Like, a few weeks?”
I nod and turn to Mia. “Mia, same question. How long have you and Emily been friends?”
“Since forever,” she mutters, her voice softer now.
“And Ethan?”
“Not long,” she admits, her gaze dropping to the desk.
“Okay,” I say, leaning forward slightly. “So you’ve been friends for years, but you’re ready to let a boy you’ve known for a few weeks come between you?”
They both look at me, their expressions shifting from anger to something closer to guilt.
“Look,” I continue, “boys will come and go. Trust me, I’ve been there. But friendships like yours? Those are rare. They’re worth fighting for—not over.”
Emily glances at Mia, her lips twitching like she wants to smile but isn’t sure if it’s okay yet. “I didn’t tell him, I promise.”
Mia sighs, her shoulders slumping. “Maybe he just guessed. I mean, I do get all weird around him.”
Emily grins. “You really do.”
Mia laughs, and just like that, the tension between them dissolves.
“Better?” I ask, smiling at both of them.
They nod in unison, and I feel a small surge of relief. “Good. Now, detention’s over. Go on, get out of here—and no more fighting, okay?”
They grab their bags, still giggling as they leave the room. I lean back in my chair, rubbing my temples. Just as I let out a long breath, the door creaks open again.
“Jeez,” I say, glancing at the clock. “Is it four o’clock already?”
Derek steps into the room, his presence filling the space like a sudden gust of wind. He smiles.
I feel a warmth go through me. He should really smile more. It transforms everything about him.
“Is this a bad time?” he asks.
I shake my head, sitting up straighter. “No, not at all. Just a long day. I’m glad you came in. I would’ve forgotten all about our meeting. That’s how scatterbrained I am today.”
He gestures toward the chair across from my desk. “Mind if I sit?”
“Go ahead.”
He sits, resting his forearms on his knees. I let out a soft sigh as I watch this new, relaxed version plop down in the chair.
“It was like pulling teeth to get the kids out of bed this morning, and they usually jump right up. I noticed a lot of kids arriving and leaving late today, so you’re not alone.”
I smile back at him. I like this side of him way better than the man constantly on edge.
“I blame the full moon. It’s a real thing.”
“It is.” He chuckles. “How’s Casey doing in class?”
I let out a soft sigh, choosing my words carefully. I fidget, shifting some papers on my desk. I don’t want to fight with him, and I don’t know if I’m going to get the grumpy man or if this relaxed guy will stick around.
“She’s…better than she was, but she’s still pretty standoffish. Distant. She struggles to finish her work because she gets distracted or just doesn’t want to engage.”
Derek frowns, his brow furrowing. “Her therapist said that Casey hasn’t told her about any new issues, but she’ll bring it up at their next appointment.”
“It’s important to focus on the fact that she is improving, though,” I add quickly. “Little by little. She’s starting to participate more, even if it’s just small things like raising her hand or answering a question when I call on her. She’s good about redirecting her attention if I tap her desk, too.”
“That’s good.” He nods. “I mean, it’s not great, but it’s better.”
“Exactly.” I smile. “Baby steps.”
I breathe a small sigh of relief. I hadn’t noticed that my body was rigid in preparation for him to be irritated with me until just now. I relax a little.
Maybe we’ve gotten over this grump hump of his.
We sit in silence for a moment before he speaks again. “Do you think I can do anything to help? At home, I mean.”
I tilt my head, considering. “Maybe set up a consistent routine for her homework. Something predictable, so she knows what to expect. And if you can, try to make it fun—like a game or a challenge.”
Derek chuckles. “Fun and homework don’t usually go together in my house, but I’ll try.”
“Bribery works, too.” I grin. “A sticker chart, maybe? Kids love those.”
He laughs. “You’re good at this.”
“It’s my job.” I shrug. “But honestly, you’re already doing a lot just by being involved. That makes a huge difference.”
His smile softens, and I forget how to breathe.
Dang, why does that keep happening?
“Thanks,” he says quietly.
I clear my throat, breaking the spell. “Anyway, I’ll keep working with her here. Maybe pair her up with a buddy during group activities. Sometimes having a friend helps kids open up.”
“That’s a good idea.” He nods. “She’s never really been shy, but after her mom…well, you know.”
I nod, my chest tightening at the offhanded mention of Sharon. It’s irritating how quickly those old insecurities pop up just at the thought of her.
“I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for her. Or for you.”
We fall into a comfortable rhythm, tossing ideas back and forth about how to help Casey. Derek suggests a few things he’s noticed at home—how she loves drawing and might respond well to art-based activities. I suggest incorporating that into her assignments, giving her the option to illustrate her answers instead of writing them.
I grin back at him. “See? You’re a natural at this.”
He laughs again, shaking his head. “I’m just winging it.”
“Well, you’re doing a good job.”
“Thanks.”
The air between us shifts, the easy banter giving way to something quieter, more charged.
I want to be close to him. I don’t want this exchange between us to end, but I know it has to.
I stand, breaking the tension. I’m so exhausted that if I don’t get out of his proximity, I’m going to do or say something and cross a line I shouldn’t.
I hope he hasn’t noticed that I keep staring at his mouth like some weirdo, but I can’t stop thinking about what it was like for him to kiss me.
“I should probably get going. It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah,” he says, standing as well. “Thanks for taking the time to talk. It’s nice to know Casey has a teacher who cares so much.”
My heart swells at those words, and I grin back at him.
“I’ll see you next Friday,” I say, walking him to the door.
As he leaves, I can’t help but wonder if he feels it, too—the unspoken thing between us. I shake my head, pushing the thought aside.
It’s been a long day, and I need to focus on what matters: my students.
Even if one of their parents is starting to feel like more than just a parent.