10. The first assembly #2
Lunch period had just finished, and the school was in high gear. There was no grace period, no gentle welcome. Spring learned that the moment Ms. Avery walked into the room.
The woman moved like she owned time itself – heels sharp against the floor, posture perfect, eyes already cataloging who was worth her energy, and who was about to be a problem. The room stilled without her asking. “Sit,” she demanded in a quiet voice.
Everyone did.
“You can sit here,” Preston motioned to the seat next to his.
As the class settled in, Ms. Avery began instructing immediately, straight into the lesson, voice crisp, cutting through the room like she’d been waiting all afternoon to say these words.
“The Future Voices Theater Competition is a few weeks away, and your performances are all missing the mark. You think because you've gotten an invitation that you can relax? This is not a playground,” she lectured. “This is not fame camp. This is a conservatory. In my class, you earn everything. If you’re here to be cute, you’re already behind. ”
Spring calmed hearing the words. The demand didn’t scare her, it steadied her.
Ms. Avery’s sharpness wasn’t cruel but intentional, the kind that didn’t ask if you were ready, just required that you become so.
It reminded Spring, unexpectedly, of her mother.
The way she’d never softened the truth, only sharpened it until you could use it.
She glanced to her left. Preston was already looking at her.
When their eyes met, he looked away first, which gave her the opportunity to study him.
He was handsome in a way that didn’t announce itself.
Clean lines, kind eyes, broad shoulders that hinted at strength.
The type of boy who looked like he listened before he spoke.
She wasn’t into him, not yet, but she took notice.
“Miss—” Ms. Avery’s voice snapped through the room. “You, with the thoughtful stare.”
Heat rushed up Spring’s neck as she drew her attention back to the front of the classroom, where Ms. Avery was pointing at her. “Yes, ma’am?”
“What’s your name?”
“Nairobi.”
“First and last name,” she clarified.
“Nairobi Ellison.”
Ms. Avery tilted her head. “Well, Ms. Ellison, care to share what you’re contemplating? Or should we assume it’s more important than the lesson?”
A few students snickered.
Spring straightened. “No, ma’am. I was listening.”
“Listening is not the same as engaging,” Ms. Avery replied coolly. Someone behind Spring muttered, “Damn.”
Another louder voice cut in. “She just got distracted ’cause Preston sittin’ over there.”
Laughter erupted.
Spring’s face burned. She glanced at Preston out of instinct. He looked mortified.
Brian laughed hardest of all. Cameron shook his head like he’d seen this movie before.
Ms. Avery raised a single finger, silence falling immediately.
“This is the undisciplined energy I’m talking about.
This is not a sitcom, and none of you are comedians,” she said.
“And you,” she added, pointing toward the student who made the comment, “will not speak again unless spoken to.” She turned back to Spring, her gaze softening slightly.
“You’re new,” she said. “Which means you’re watching.
That’s fine, but don’t disappear into observation. This room demands presence.”
Spring nodded, swallowing her embarrassment. “Yes, ma’am.”
The rest of the period moved quickly – exercises, call-and-response, a short vocal drill that exposed nerves and raw talent alike. Ms. Avery missed nothing. Corrected everything.
When the bell rang, Spring felt like she’d run a mile.
Students packed up noisily, relief buzzing through the room.
Ms. Avery called out, “Ms. Ellison. Stay a moment.”
Spring froze, then obeyed.
The room emptied. The air shifted.
Ms. Avery approached her slowly, arms crossed. “I want to apologize for putting you on the spot in class. But understand that life will not wait for you to be ready.”
“Yes ma’am, it won’t happen again.”
Ms. Avery leaned against her desk and examined her, longer than Spring felt comfortable being stared at. After a spell the teacher said, “You embarrass easily,”
“Well, I?—”
“That’s not a flaw. It means you care.” Spring waited. The woman straightened and walked closer. “But this place will eat you alive if you let embarrassment silence you,” Ms. Avery continued. “You have instincts. I saw them. You just don’t trust them yet.”
Spring nodded, heart pounding.
“You remind me of someone,” Ms. Avery added, almost absently. “Which means I’ll be harder on you.”
Spring met her eyes. “I can handle that.”
A slow smile of approval took over Ms. Avery’s face. “Good, because excellence isn’t gentle.” She stepped back, opening the door. “Welcome to HSPVA.”
Spring walked into the hallway feeling exposed, challenged, and – despite herself – excited.
As she merged into the flow of students, she felt eyes on her again. She didn’t look back, but she didn’t need to – she already knew who it was.