Chapter Text
“Okay, you little goobers. I can tell y’all are antsy to get out of here, so I’m gonna make these last five minutes fun.”
You smile at the faces of your students in front of you. It’s your first year teaching a class by yourself, but you’ve already gained a reputation among the students. Luckily, it’s a good one. You’re not quite a ‘cool’ teacher like Dr. Grace, who's in the room across the hall, but you’re not one of the teachers kids dread. You’re somewhere in the middle. Not cool by any means, but they feel safe with you. So far, you’ve had half of your kids call you ‘mama’ or ask if they can say you’re their big sister.
“I’ve gotta pretend that I taught you something today, so we’re gonna do a lightning round. At the end of class, if you got a question right, you can get a candy or an eraser from my basket. If you get more than three right, you can get two.”
You smile, grabbing the basket from the drawer in your desk. Kids like candy, kids like fun-shaped erasers; it’s only logical that as a junior high teacher, you have both. The basket is made of woven sticks- a remnant of a project you had the kids do at the very beginning of the year from your lesson about prehistory.
“We’re going on the honor system here, so if you cheat, know that I’m disappointed in you and very sad.”
Somehow, stating that you’d be sad is much more effective than trying to punish kids.
“First question: What illness killed almost half of Europe’s population during the 16th century?”
Several students raise their hands, but Lainey practically bounces out of her seat with an answer. “The Black Death!”
“Correct!” You make a dot next to her name on the attendance sheet. She’s one of your best students. A little odd and upsettingly obsessed with historical tragedies, but smart. “When did the first Africans set foot in what is now the United States?”
“Early 1500s, the age of Exploration!” Mindy chirps from her seat in the back of the class. She hardly ever speaks up, so it’s great to see her excited and interacting.
“Yes, ma’am!” You mark her name as you ask your next question. “What was the first imperial dynasty in China?”
That makes them pause for a second. Some of your students glance at each other before Harrison pipes up. He insists on being called by his last name, as he decided he didn’t want to be associated with the other John in your first period. Weird, but it just makes it easier for you.
“...what is the Qin dynasty?” He pronounces it “quin”, but you’ll take it.
“It’s pronounced more like ‘chyin’, but you got it!”
This continues until the bell rings. As class ends, you hold out the candy basket, telling each of your kids to have a great day and an awesome weekend.
“Don’t forget, your family trees are due on Monday! Make sure to bring in at least one primary and one secondary source to support your data. We’re gonna have some fun with this!”
As they all trickle out, you pack up your things. Luckily, it’s Friday afternoon, so you’re free from teacherly duties until Monday. Well, you do have tests to grade, but they’ve already been packed in your bag, so oh no, it looks like you won’t be doing them tonight.
Hoisting your bag over your shoulder, you switch off your classroom lights and exit. Making sure to lock up- the janitors got on your ass last week for forgetting- you hum softly to yourself.
When you turn, Dr. Grace, one of the science teachers and the author of your favorite scientific paper ever (An Analysis of Water-Based Assumptions and Recalibration of Expectations), is standing behind you. Like, literally behind you. As in, you turn, and you’re face to upper chest with him, the scent of coffee and cellophane and his weird cologne surrounding you. The man apparently has no sense of personal space.
“O-oh! Dr. Grace, hi-” You bluster, flushing with surprise and a bit of embarrassment. He’s always dressed nicely, and today is no exception. His sweater is a rich, deep blue, and it matches his corduroy slacks and the grey button-down shirt he's wearing under it. It makes you feel frumpy in your leggings and oversized “cool people learn history” t-shirt.
“I like the earrings.” Dr. Grace gives you an easy, boyish smile, leaning slightly closer. Your face is suddenly extremely hot. You reach up, running a finger over the black fuzzy worm earrings you’re wearing.
“Um, thanks. They were a gift from a student.” You smile at him, delicately sidestepping away, attempting to compose yourself.
Great. You’ve not only embarrassed yourself in front of one of the coolest (and cutest (whaaaat, who said that?)) teachers at Grover Cleveland Middle School, but you had to do it in worm earrings and looking like you rolled out of bed? Maybe your mother was onto something when she said that the one day you didn’t dress nicely would be the one day you needed to.
“Gee, all my students give me are eye-rolls and grey hair.” He follows you down the hallway, his posture easy and relaxed. He tucks his hand into his pocket, pulling out his phone and typing on it for a second. “Anyway, I got this email this morning, and I can’t figure out how to unsubscribe from them? I was hoping you could help me with it. It’s also an interesting article, I don’t know if you’re a science person, but you could maybe mention it to some of your students, and I guess I thought it would be- I’m rambling, aren’t I?”
You stare at him, blinking. That was… a lot. Good to know the man you’ve looked up to since starting this job is as much of a dork as you are. You can’t help but smile, holding your hand out for his phone. “Let me see if I can help.”
He mirrors your expression, letting out a slightly nervous laugh as he passes over the phone. “Thanks. I just- I figured your generation is probably better with this, not that I’m a fossil by any means-”
“It’s okay, seriously. I’ve got it, Dr. Grace. I’m happy to help.” You skim the email, noting the name Irina Petrova to look up later. Tapping on the sender’s email address, you’re sent to the main website. You lean a bit closer to Dr. Grace and show him the phone screen.
“So, what you’re gonna do is find this unsubscribe link and click on it.”
He hums, his shoulder brushing yours. The jolt you feel has to be static electricity. Yep. Just static. That’s all.
“What if I already did that and it didn’t work?” He has the silliest little furrow between his brows, making him look like a confused puppy.
“Then it’s God telling you to keep this.” You glance up at his face, letting out a huff of laughter at his confusion. “Joking. You’ve got to scroll to the bottom of the page and click ‘unsubscribe from all email addresses’, so that they’ll stop sending you stuff.”
He gives you a relieved smile and takes his phone back, running his free hand through his hair. “Thank you so much. I think you’d like the article, by the way. It’s interesting enough, and you don’t need much of a background in astronomy or physics…”
Dr. Grace yaps the entire time, talking with his hands as much as he can with a briefcase and his jacket. You’re half listening, the other half of you freaking out. Why is he walking with you?? Why is he showing any interest in you? How does he know about your stargazing hobby? Does- does he actually listen to you when you talk? Not many people do that, especially when they’re older and notably smarter than you.
He holds the door open for you as you two exit the school, his hand coming to brush your lower back as he guides you out. It’s a subconscious gesture on his part, but it still makes your heart give a little squeeze. When you arrive at your car, you awkwardly rock back and forth on your heels, tugging on a strand of loose hair.
“Well, um, this is me. Thank you for telling me about the article. I’ll look into it. I appreciate it, Dr. Grace.” You unlock your car and toss your stuff in the backseat, turning to do so. When you turn back, he’s in your personal space again, but not as close as he was in the hall. He has a soft, slightly nervous expression.
“Call me Ryland. Please.”
“O-okay. Thank you, Ryland.”