When she smiles, her whole body transforms, brightening the room. Her eyes crinkle, her shoulders lift, and a gap between her front teeth makes her look even more open.
Pretty.
Naive.
Vulnerable.
“Oh, wonderful. You’re the first one here!” She bounces across the room and extends her hand. “I’m Miss Chloe.”
Even her voice is warm and unguarded.
Reluctantly, I accept her hand for a gentle shake. Small paper cuts mark her delicate fingers. Mine could crush them without even trying.
“You must be one of our new parents.” She continues beaming, unfazed by my size or silence. “I don’t think we’ve met before, but I’m so glad you’re here. I just love meeting everyone on Parent-Teacher Night.”
The whole time, she never stops moving. She adjusts the sleeve of her dress. Straightens the closest chair. Tucks and then immediately untucks a loose piece of hair.
I’ve barely spent two minutes in her presence, and I’m exhausted.
She smells good, though. Sweet like vanilla, with a hint of spice.
I wonder if she’s always this perky.
“Which of our friends is yours?”
My brows draw together as she regards me with an expectant smile. Friends? What friends? Oh. She means child. Though I have no idea why she didn’t just say that.
I scramble for a reply. Nothing in my background covers how to infiltrate a school event.
Before I can invent a lie, shrill voices reverberate from the hallway. More parents, some with kids in tow.
“Oh, here come a few more.” Chloe squeezes my hand before letting go. “Please make yourself comfortable. We’ll start once everyone arrives.”
Make myself comfortable? In a kindergarten classroom? Where, every day, little demons show up and wipe their snotty noses and other questionable substances on everything they touch?
I scan the room again and sigh.
Too late to escape.
A couple enters, their kid bouncing between them, and suddenly I’m swept up by the tide of several others. Parents, children, and noise form a wall that presses me into the room. I end up at an empty desk in the far corner opposite the door, lowering myself onto a tiny plastic chair that creaks under my weight. My knees are practically implanted in my sternum.
I must look ridiculous.
If one of my brothers saw me, I’d never survive the shame.
I sit, rigid, watching as Chloe glides through the room greeting parents and high-fiving kids, all while radiating warmth. MJ somehow linked this woman, who’s so sweet she’ll give you cavities, to millions in missing diamonds.
This might be the single best cover I’ve ever seen.
My knees ache. The chair grinds into my back. Parents discuss lunches and soccer. Kids shriek.
Sensory overload, but entirely mundane.
Suka blyat.
All my sins have caught up to me.
My thighs cramp.
