He grabs me. I notice absently that his hand is able to wrap around the entire circumference of my arm, with room to spare—his fingers still overlapping. He whirls me towards him, and I’m blown away by the ferocity of his gaze. He takes a step closer, forcing me to crane my head back to meet his eyes. He leans down, and I can feel his breath on my lips.
“I want to be very clear with you, Mia. I am saying no because you are my best friend’s little sister, and he made me make him very specific promises regarding you. I’m already breaking some of them by helping you with your fucking sexts—,” and I’m mesmerized by the way his teeth pull his lower lip back when he saysfucking, “—but do not for a second believe that you are a bridge troll or that you evenexiston the same plane or universe than those other fucking women.” He grabs me by the hips then, forcing me to close the inches of distance into him, so that I can feel his hard length pressing against the front of jeans. I think I whimper. “This is what happens if I simplythinkabout your gorgeous tits in that outfit or filling my hand this morning, or any time I look at your fucking mouth now. So make no mistake.”
He releases me then, adjusting the front of his pants. He takes both of our luggages and rolls it away, in the direction of the school, while I stand there feeling hot and cold and electric and damp and confused all at once.
“Aren’t you only leaving for… one day, Ms. Roberts?” Amaya asks me after raising her hand, her eyebrows furrowed.
“Uh, yes. Why?” I respond, pausing my—I look up at the clock—now twenty minute diatribe slash pep talk.
“Then why are you talking to us like you’re going to be gone for the rest of the school year?” she continues.
I scratch my head sheepishly. “Well, I just want to set you all up for success. We’ve only just started our Olympics unit, and we’re going to lose precious learning time while I’m gone?—”
“Won’t we have a sub?” Kyle asks.
I mime pulling my hand out of my pants as a nonverbal reminder. He pulls his hand out. “Yes, you’ll have a sub?—”
“Aren’t you leaving them plans?” Sean asks.
I wonder when my eight-year-olds have skipped twenty years of time and suddenly know the inner workings of the teacher contract. I blow out a breath, “Yes, I’m leaving them plans?—”
“So then you have nothing to worry about,” chimes in Amanda.
“Yeah, chill, Ms. Roberts,” Mohammed adds on.
I blow out a breath. “Fine. Let’s get started on today’s work. Get back in your groups and take out the posters you made on Olympics history and symbols. We’re going to do a gallery walk.”
I set them up with a template that helps them organize and take notes on each of the posters. There’s space for writing down new things learned, follow-up questions for the poster creators, things of that nature. I’m setting up the Olympic anthem to play from my shitty laptop speakers when Lina walks in.
I wave. “Good morning, Ms. Sanchez.”
“Good morning, Ms. Sanchez,” my class chants dutifully after me.
“Hi, Ms. Roberts. Hey, Class 304. Keep working, please. Don’t let me interrupt all your hard work.” She turns to me. “Just wanted to come find you before you left for the conference,” she tells me. She smiles at the students working diligently, pleased that everyone is on task. “Are you all set?”
“Yep,” I tell her, gesturing to my suitcase in the corner of the room. “I also packed one of the teacher guides to... Words of Wonder.” I wince. “So that I can read it over on the flight.”
“Great. Have you had a chance to look at the conference schedule?”
“…Yes,” I go with, instead ofI’ve both printed it and taken screenshots of the entire thing. “There are a ton of relevant panels and workshops I’ve identified that could help us with our…problem,” I wink at her. “I’m going to have a busy four days.”
She sighs, still looking so different from the boss bitch Lina that I’m used to. “I really appreciate you doing this, Ms. Roberts. Thank you so much. This is going to be a lot of help… not only for me, but for our entire school community.”
I squeeze her hand. “Of course. You’re crushing it. We’re all so grateful to you.” We look out at my students together. “Want to read some of their notes?”
She smiles. “Sure. Just a few, but then I have to go.”
We wander over to a group by the windows. “Any fun things you learned today? Any questions?” I ask.
“Yes,” Amaya says, very seriously. “Many questions. One—what’s a steroid, and why have so many athletes been kicked out of the Olympics for using them?”
“Oh,” I say, taken aback. “Well… a steroid is… Ms. Sanchez, do you want to help me out here?” I divert to her, floundering.
She frowns. “Well, I guess it’s a type of medicine that some athletes take to… try to make their muscles bigger and stronger.”
Amaya nods firmly. “Ah. So it’s cheating.”
I contain a smile. I’m obsessed with this girl. “Exactly. It’s also very harmful to your health.” I look around the group. “Any other questions? Comments?”
