10
LIA
I didn’t mean to throw open the door to the headmaster’s office, but I was so high-strung that I let my nerves get the best of me. I could not remember the last time I had such a bad case of the Mondays. In the few hours since I got to Vivatin Day that morning, I had already managed to spill coffee on my work shirt, drop an entire jar of bright blue finger paint in the supply closet, and slam my fingers into the desk drawer in my classroom, which resulted in yet another blooper for the day, teaching my entire classroom of students a new vocabulary word for the week -- “SHIT!”
I blamed Monday, but I knew that the real reason that I was flustered was because I was still caught up on Friday night. I had been replaying what happened with Benjamin, and I could not get the image out of my head. Every time I thought about it, my entire body flushed with heat and I felt my heart start to race. I had never felt so out of control in my life. And I have never felt so connected to someone, either.
Of course I would not admit that Benjamin was right. I would not concede. And I definitely, definitely could not see him again.
My mind was already racing with thoughts, and getting called into Mr. Richmond’s office was the last thing I needed.
The door clattered when I opened it, striking into the wall, and Mr. Richmond glares up with a beady set of eyes.
“Have a seat, Miss Lewis,” he instructed, pointing at an empty chair in front of his desk. The seat next to it was occupied by a plain woman in a cheap pea-green suit that told me, before I even caught a glimpse of the name badge clipped to her lapel, that she was a CPS caseworker.
I quietly took a seat and crossed my ankles, wondering what this this is about. When I worked back at that school in Brooklyn, CPS visits were an almost weekly occurrence. There were far more seldom at Vivatin. I couldn’t even remember the last time I found myself sitting in on an investigation.
“I apologize for having to call you away from your class,” Mr. Richmond said to me. “But Miss Peters here thought it might be urgent that we discuss the status of one of your students.”
Oh shit, I thought, picturing the students in my classroom and trying to work out which one is the subject of this investigation.
“It’s about a student named Harper Johnson,” Miss Peters said, turning to me with pursed lips.
“What?” I was caught off guard. There was already an open investigation with her mother. Why was this woman here now?
Miss Peters blinked at me, and I noticed that she’s wearing that generic, faux-sympathetic expression on her face.
“Some parents have expressed concern over things that their children have overheard from Harper,” Mr. Richmond said, clearing his throat.
“Like what?”
“Apparently Harper has been bragging to other students about her new apartment,” Miss Johnson snipped, still eyeing me. “At The Shyft Lofts.”
“Yes,” I nodded, trying to keep my cool. “That’s where her uncle lives. And as I’m sure you’re well aware, Miss Peters,” I made a point of narrowing my eyes at her, “Her uncle has been awarded emergency custody of Harper for the time being.”
“That’s correct,” Mr. Richmond nodded. “But some parents are concerned that the Johnson’s lifestyle might not be in keeping with the morals and values we try to instill here at Vivatin.”
I felt the heat of anger prickle up my neck, and I turned to the social services caseworker.
“That’s ridiculous!” I said. “You can’t possibly agree with that!”
“I’m concerned with the child’s well-being,” Miss Peters said calmly, her eyes vacant and devoid of genuine compassion. “And if other parents are concerned that Harper is a bad influence on their children, then I have to be concerned about that, too.”
“That’s so unfair,” I turned back to Mr. Richmond. “You’re going to punish a child because of where her uncle lives? Because of who they are?”
“Nobody is punishing anyone,” Mr. Richmond assured me. “But I’m sure we can all agree that someone with Mr. Johnson’s reputation and lifestyle could be seen as an unfavorable influence on students.”
I could not believe that Harper’s shifter status was suddenly an issue. Clearly, since it had been in her file, the school had known all along. But suddenly because her uncle was more open about his bear side than her mother, this was a problem? Ridiculous!
“We’ve just called this meeting to keep an eye on the situation,” Miss Peters said. She was trying to placate me, but I did not want to be placated. I did not want to be talked down to, and I certainly did not want to be lectured on ‘morals’ and ‘values,’ from the same school administrator that blindly accepted tuition checks from investment banker thieves and drug addicts.
“Mr. Johnson is perfectly fit to care for his niece,” I said flatly.
“It seems you would know,” Mr. Richmond snapped.
I gulped, waiting for him to elaborate.
“Some students also reported that Harper was bragging about you going home with her to Mr. Johnson’s apartment,” Miss Peters said.
“That’s true,” I admitted. “I wanted to make sure she was safe and comfortable…”
“Miss Lewis,” Mr. Richmond said firmly, “I shouldn’t need to remind you that we have procedures in place for these kinds of things.”
“I’m well aware,” I snapped back. “And if CPS had actually answered any of my phone calls, I might have been able to follow that procedure properly. I was doing what I thought was best for everyone.”
“I appreciate your dedication,” Mr. Richmond sighed, “But it can’t happen again. There are boundaries, Miss Lewis, and they exist for a reason. Teachers and parents do not mingle outside of this school. Do you understand?”
I felt the pressure of both Mr. Richmond and stupid Miss Peters glaring at me, and I nodded.
“I understand.”
I understood… but that didn’t mean I had to agree.