“This next one is a little more personal,” she said, keeping her voice perfectly steady. “So I'm going to skip it and move on.”
She unfolded another paper and continued reading, but the words blurred in front of her eyes. Her mind was stuck on the one she'd set aside.
The rest of the period passed in a haze. Rachel guided the students through a brief discussion about how poetry could help them process emotions and how writing could be a form of healing. She smiled and responded and asked questions at all the right moments. But beneath the professional calm, her stomach churned.
The bell finally rang, and the students filed out, excitement for the upcoming weekend filling their conversations. Ben argued with Mike about something while Jules and Caroline walked arm in arm into the hall. Carson gave her a quiet wave, and Rachel stayed at her desk. Robbie walked out, his gaze on her, giving a little shake, until he made it into the hall.
She picked up the paper and read it one more time. I think I saw someone do something they shouldn’t. I don’t know what to do because I can’t be sure. But it made me feel like I should have done something about it.
She read another one. My friend told me they think they saw someone do something bad. But I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone.
She had a feeling the two notes were talking about the same situation. And after a few years of teaching, she also had a good idea that the notes were written by males.
Rachel sat in her classroom long after the last bell, the papers resting on her desk in front of her, and stared at them like they might give her answers.
The student hadn’t been sure of what they’d seen. It could be anything… just something that made them feel like it shouldn’t have happened. But their concern was real. The shaky handwriting wasn't the reaction of a kid who'd seen something normal.
If she brought this to the attention of the administration, it could be swept under the rug because there was nothing to go on.
Rachel shook her head. She couldn't let someone dismiss it. Not when a fourteen-year-old had been worried enough to write it down on a piece of paper knowing she would read it because they didn't know what else to do.
She needed to try to discover who’d written the notes. She needed to understand what they'd actually seen and who was involved.
Rachel folded the papers carefully and slipped them into her schoolbag along with the others. She picked up her bag, turned off the classroom light, and closed the door behind her.
At the end of the school day, Rachel walked down the hallway toward the gym. She'd promised to meet David before his wrestling practice, something they'd gotten into the habit of doing a few times a week. It was comfortable, like their relationship.
David stood near the gym entrance, a towel draped around his neck, his dark hair damp with sweat. When he saw her, his face lit up with an open, genuine smile.
She smiled with friendship, but her heart didn't melt. She waited for the flutter in her chest, the warmth that should spread through her when someone looked at her like that. But there was nothing. Just a pleasant fondness, the kind you'd feel for a good friend.
But then, was it supposed to melt? Maybe all the romantic nonsense was just that. Nonsense. Maybe what made women think they needed a man or needed to feel something was just societal conditioning. Maybe what she felt for David was exactly what a healthy, adult relationship should feel like.
Her thoughts twisted and tangled as she approached him.
“Hey,” David said, falling into step beside her. “How was your day?”
“Good. The juniors are finally starting to understand character development.” Rachel shifted her bag on her shoulder. “How was your day?”
“Great. Being able to practice all year has improved the team. I really want to make it to the state championship this year. The other coaches feel the same way. We were so close last year.” David's enthusiasm was infectious. “We’ve got a parent helping and another assistant coach from NSU.”
“When are you going to come back to my gym?”
At the question coming from the side, she turned to see Martin Bogdin walking out of the boys’ locker room. He ran the only fitness center in the area and was also a parent. Terrence Bogdin was one of her seniors, and she knew he was a wrestler. Smiling, she said, “Hi! What are you doing here?”
David interjected, “Martin is helping coach our wrestling team.”
“Good.” She nodded, then laughed. “And yes, I need to get back on the treadmill! Maybe this Saturday, I’ll make it.”
They waved goodbye to Martin, then walked through the parking lot together. When they reached Rachel's car, David placed a hand on her door, effectively blocking her from opening it. His soft expression was affectionate.
“Can I take you to dinner this weekend?” he asked. “That new Italian place in Cape Charles?”
“That sounds nice,” Rachel said, meaning it. It did sound nice. David was nice. Everything about this was nice. She was growing sick of the bland word.
David leaned in, and Rachel was surprised. Kids still milled around the parking lot as teachers headed to their cars, so she turned her head, and his lips landed on her cheek. He pulled away with a smile, and as he held her door open, Rachel wondered why he was pressing for a public kiss.
“I'll text you later,” David promised, squeezing her hand before stepping back.
