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Tonight has left me with so much to think about.

It’s finally Friday, a relief in itself. I’m on lunch duty today, basking in the sun while a refreshing breeze plays with my hair. Despite the warmth, I wrap my cardigan tighter around me for comfort. From my vantage point overseeing the playground, a group of year six girls approaches me, their mischievous grins immediately raising red flags in my mind. These girls are notorious—always causing a stir, testing the limits with their teachers. I brace myself, knowing their reputation well.

“Hey, Miss Brown,” Kellie, always the blunt one, starts, innocently enough.

“Hi, girls,” I reply cautiously, not having any inclination where this conversation may be headed.

“Do you know Bradley Mitchell?” Kellie asks, curiosity tingling in her voice. Well, crap. It definitely wasn’t that. Why would she be asking?

“Uh, I do. How doyouknow Bradley Mitchell?” I counter, my curiosity piqued.

Kellie shakes her head. “I don’t. But I do know he’s a policeofficer.”

“Everyone knows that, Kellie,” Briony retorts, her tone dismissive. “Anyway,soo, my sister Dahlia told me he came to visit you,” she says, air-quoting the wordvisitand raising her eyebrows playfully.

Heat rises to my cheeks at their teasing. “Uh, yes, he did. And?” I respond firmly, meeting Briony’s gaze head-on.

“Well, why would he be hanging around you? I mean, isn’t he, like, important or something?” Briony asks casually, her tone laced with scepticism. “And aren’t you kind of... like, a loner?”

Her little friends giggle at her words, and I furrow my brows in surprise.

Being called out by an eleven-year-old.Ouch.

I am a loner in a sense, yes. But maybe not to the extent she’s implying.

“Because we’re friends, and what makes you think I’m a loner?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“Well, you’re always by yourself,” she retorts, her smirk widening. “I never see you with anyone else, just off doing your own thing.”

I can’t help but inwardly roll my eyes.

Isthatit?

Children these days just have too much confidence. What she’s trying to gain out of this conversation, I’ll never know, but who cares?

“First of all, Briony, I’mnota loner,” I retort, my voice stronger than I expected. “Secondly, I do have friends, andthirdly,it’s none of your business why he would be hanging around,” I say with a smile.

Briony narrows her eyes at me, but I continue, not backing down.

“Especiallynot the business of an eleven-year-old.”

She steps closer, her hand on her hip, trying to assert dominance. “I’mtwelve,” she corrects me with a smirk.

“Same, same,” I reply with a nonchalant shrug, flipping my hair over my shoulder. The girls exchange surprised glances, caught off guard by my unexpected assertiveness.

Probably not used to being challenged, Briony huffs with attitude, “Whatever.”

The other girls exchange disappointed looks, realising they won’t get the gossip they were hoping for. As they disperse, their interest wanes, leaving me with a mix of relief and pride. It’s not easy standing up to older kids, especially those with a reputation like theirs.

But I did it.

And strangely, I feel liberated, as if I’ve proven something to myself.

I glance around the bustling playground, filled with the chaotic energy of children at play. Perhaps dealing with older kids wouldn’t be so daunting after all. Yet, for now, I’m content with my kindergarteners—they may be small, but they teach me resilience and courage every day.

As for those girls, maybe they’ve learned a lesson, too. Not everyone is willing to be pushed around, regardless of age.

And as for Bradley, well, maybe he’d be proud of me standing my ground.