Chapter 7
KAIRO
It starts with a knock on the door of my office, soft but persistent, like whoever’s knocking already knows I’m going to be annoyed.
Principal Jennings pops her head in, hair askew, half a salad leaf clinging to her blouse.
“Field trip forms,” she says brightly, too brightly.
“Field trip?” I echo, because I’m not awake enough to pretend yet.
“Your son’s charming new instructor has planned one. Thought I’d deliver these directly so they don’t get lost in a backpack full of snack crumbs and smuggled space beetles.” She sets the stack of forms on my desk with a flourish.
My fingers twitch. I don’t touch them.
“He planned this?”
Jennings winks. “He’s unconventional, but the children love him. Even the ones who bite.”
“That’s a low bar.”
She just shrugs and exits, leaving behind the smell of synthetic vinaigrette and one very full envelope labeled: “Permission Slips – Zoo Excursion.”
I pick it up, thumb running over the seal.
Jav Kuraken planned a field trip.
I drop the envelope like it burns.
I find him at pickup time, kneeling beside Ben, helping him zip up a backpack that appears to be leaking some kind of glitter putty.
He doesn’t look up when I approach, just says, “You’re late.”
“I’m exactly on time.”
“You’re late emotionally.”
I stare at him.
Ben pipes up, grinning. “We made zoo bucks!”
“Zoo bucks?”
“Yeah!” he waves a little paper square. “We’re gonna trade them for extra time with the squigglebeasts!”
Jav stands, dusting his knees. “They’re not real currency. I tried to teach the dangers of inflation by flooding the market. Two kids cried. It was a success.”
“You traumatized children to prove a point?”
He grins. “They’ll thank me when they’re stockbrokers.”
I take a breath, tugging Ben’s backpack higher. “A field trip, really?”
“It’s educational.”
“It’s risky.”
His smile fades. Just a bit. “I ran the numbers. We’ll have a hoverbus, three chaperones, and an armed escort.”
“Armed?”
“Standard protocol.”
“For who?”
“In case the squigglebeasts riot.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You can’t do this.”
“I already did. You can sign the slip, or come along and supervise me.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“You don’t trust me. That’s fair. So come along. Make sure I’m not teaching them how to launder zoo bucks.”
He’s so smug. So calm. So him. And he knows exactly what he’s doing—playing my paranoia like a piano.
I hate how well it works.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t think too hard,” he says, brushing a strand of hair off my face with maddening gentleness. “You’ll get wrinkles.”
I slap his hand away.
He just laughs.
At home, Ben won’t shut up about Jav.
“Mr. K is so cool, Mom. He said we could run a mini-economy and I’m gonna be the snack baron and—”
I zone out somewhere around “intergalactic juice trade.”
He’s glowing. Lit up like a nova. And I should be happy. I should be thrilled my kid is finally connecting with a teacher. But all I can think about is how much of Jav I see in him when he smiles like that.
Same mischief. Same spark.
Same damn dimple.
I close my eyes.
I’m in so much trouble.
By midnight, the permission slip’s still on my counter.
Unsigned.
But I’ve packed a bag.
Just in case.