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I was in sixth grade when my dad died.

Some may say there’s never a great time to lose a parent, and while they’d be right, I’d still like to state for the record that middle school is an extra shitty time to experience it.

I remember walking in to school for the first time after he died and being so nervous, I almost threw up in the trash can outside of the main entrance.

If I think about it too long, I can feel my clammy palms and the way my knees damn near knocked together as I stood outside of Mrs. Cabriano’s first period science class.

Before my dad died, it was my favorite class of the day.

It had all of my friends, and Marcus, the boy I’d had a crush on for two years, sat directly behind me.

The week before my dad died, we had progressed from quiet smiles to written notes.

If you know anything about middle-school flirting, then you know that notes are a pretty big freaking deal.

But that was before I sat at home for two weeks, the first of which was spent pretending to be okay for my grandparents until they flew back to Chicago.

The second was spent pretending I believed my mom was okay when in reality I could hear her crying through the walls every time she closed a door.

I wasn’t sure if the person I was at that point could be the carefree girl who laughed at his jokes.

I remember looking over my shoulder to make sure the hallway was empty before I closed my eyes and whispered a quick plea to my dad or whoever was listening that when I entered the room, things would be like they were before I was called down to the office and told my life would never be the same.

I just wanted to be Emerson again, not this poor, sad girl with a dead dad and heartbroken mom.

For a few hours a day, I wanted to forget what had happened to me and be a regular twelve-year-old who talked about music with her friends and had a crush on a boy.

When I walked inside that day, Mrs. Cabriano gave me the same bright smile she gave everyone else and when I sat at my desk, there was a note waiting from Marcus.

Looking back, I think that was the day I fell in love with the classroom. I might not have known I wanted to be a teacher, but I knew I would do whatever I could to give a kid the same safe space Mrs. Cabriano gave me. And after that day, I never felt nervous stepping into a classroom ever again.

Or at least I didn’t.

Not until today.

Never in my life has a weekend moved slower. I couldn’t even make myself go to The Barkery. When I called to let them know I wouldn’t make it in, Shelly sounded so concerned, I thought she might alert the police.

Dread stretched every second into a lifetime as I watched my phone and waited for it to light up with Nora’s name.

I refreshed my email every second, wondering if she’d fire me that way, and my lungs froze every time I heard footsteps in my hallway.

Without Luke staying by my side, his calm, steady presence trying to convince me that everything would be okay, I’m not sure I would’ve gotten out of bed this morning.

I hover outside of my classroom door, my heart beating a million miles a minute.

I feel like I’m about to come out of my skin just picturing what could be waiting on the other side.

Nightmares kept me up all night, and I’m convinced the boogeyman is hiding inside my room or that—even worse—all of my stuff has been put into boxes and there’s a new teacher sitting behind my desk.

But when I finally gather the courage to crack the door open and peek inside, specks of glitter wink across the floor as the morning sunlight pours through the windows, and the only monsters in sight are the clay sculptures my students made for a Halloween craft.

Everything is exactly how I left it, down to the flowers some of the girls drew on the whiteboard and the empty water bottle I forgot on my desk thanks to all the Petunia Lemon madness.

My pictures still hang on the wall, my books are tucked neatly where they’re supposed to be placed on the shelves, and against all odds, it’s still my name on the top of my desk.

I set about my morning routine, taking all of the chairs off of the desks and setting out the morning work before I sit at my desk and turn on my computer.

I open my email and triple-check one more time to make sure I didn’t miss anything from Nora, but there’s nothing.

I had thought about talking to her before school today.

But her car wasn’t in the parking lot when I pulled in and that pep talk I gave myself while getting out of the car has already worn off.

I guess there’s always tomorrow.

And there’s still a chance—albeit a very slim chance—that Jacqueline left Luke’s house and thought better of telling Nora. I could be freaking out over nothing at all.

“Emerson Pierce.” Lisa’s voice booms though the PA system, sounding just as boisterous at seven in the morning as she does at three in the afternoon. “Please report to Nora Stone’s office.”

Well fuck. I guess I wasn’t freaking out over nothing.

Nora’s well aware of the phone extension to my room, and I know this because she calls me damn near every day. She’s sending me a message by summoning me to her office in such a public way, and I hear it loud and clear.

I understand that she’s probably pissed and feeling more than a little betrayed, but she’s not exactly innocent either.

She might not want to admit it, but she took advantage of me and our friendship.

She used me so she could make money even knowing that it put me in a tough financial situation.

As a friend, that’s shitty. As my employer? It’s downright despicable.

I grab my keys and stick them in the oversize pockets on my rainbow cardigan.

I lock my classroom door behind me, trying to keep a straight face despite the absolute riot taking place in my stomach.

I wave to the other kindergarten teachers and say hello to Blaire, a fourth-grade teacher, as she passes me in the hall.

When the front office is in sight, I see Lisa at her desk, sipping on her coffee while she buzzes the front door open for Anna.

Anna is struggling to open the door with two giant bags in each hand, so even though I know Nora hates to be kept waiting, I run past the office and help her instead.

“Thank you so much, Emerson.” She drops the bags on the ground and takes a second to regroup. She’s a little out of breath and definitely frazzled. “I probably should’ve made two trips, but it’s cold outside and I’m too lazy to make this walk more than once.”

Ever since Anna found out about me joining Petunia Lemon, she’s been super distant. This is honestly the most she’s talked to me since. I’ve wanted to tell her what I’m doing with Luke, but I didn’t want to put her in an awkward position at school or make her feel like she had to lie to Nora.

“I’d rather break an arm than take two trips to carry my groceries, so I completely understand.” I peek into one of the bags and see…“Are those Easter eggs?”

It’s November. Where’s she getting these from?

“They are for now, but soon they’ll be maracas.” She puffs a stray piece of hair out of her eye. “Or at least maraca adjacent.”

“I’m sure the kids will love this, and bless you for having the patience of a saint.

” I can handle noise to a certain level, and even though it hasn’t been tested yet, I’m almost positive homemade maracas are way beyond my noise tolerance limit.

Thank goodness my class’s special is library today. “Can I help you carry some of these?”

“Thank you, but I think I got it.” She starts to gather the bags off of the ground, strategically loading them onto her wrists until they’re damn near at her elbow.

Is this how people feel watching me when I refuse to accept help?

“Anna, please. Your arms look like they’re about to snap off.” I hold my hand out to take some of the bags. She clearly needs help, and it will only take a few minutes. Plus, it will put off my meeting with Nora for a little longer and maybe my nerves will be able to settle down. “Let me help.”

“Actually, Anna, I’m going to need to steal Emerson for a moment.” Nora appears behind me like freaking Beetlejuice. “But you look like you’ve got this under control.”

She looks like she has this under control? She looks like she’s about to topple over!

“Of course.” Anna’s smile tightens and something about her seems off when her attention turns back to me. “See you later, Emerson. And thanks again for all of your help.”

She hurries off before I have the chance to respond and leaves me alone with Nora.

“Nora!” I close my eyes and paste on my brightest smile before turning to face her. “Good morning.”

She doesn’t so much as attempt to return the effort or at least pretend to be cordial.

The smiling eyes I’m so used to seeing are hard as stone, and her mouth is set in a straight line.

There’s no warmth in her face at all. She says nothing in greeting and turns on a high-heeled foot toward her office.

As bad as I thought this was going to be, I’m pretty sure it’s going to be worse.

I steel my spine and follow behind her, waving to Lisa as she watches us pass by with a look of concern shining bright upon her face. Nora pushes into her office and walks straight to her file cabinet in the back of the room, pulling open the drawer with way more force than necessary.

“Close the door and take a seat,” she orders over her shoulder, never once looking back to make sure I was following her.

I do as I’m told and sit in the same chair I sat in when Nora offered me my job. Now, I worry it’s where I’ll be sitting when she takes it away.