Page 11 of Branded Hearts

“I heard you… but is it something? Orsomeone?” he quips with a raised brow. “Since when do we dopersonalcheck-ins? Is this something new I’m not aware of?”

Ignoring his queries, I step out onto the footpath. The schoolyard is deserted, a stillness settling over the scene. My footsteps echo in the quiet, each step amplifying the weight of my thoughts. I walk toward the entrance, feeling the gravity of the moment pressing down on me.

As I enter the school, the cool air of the hallway washes over me, a stark contrast to the warmth of the midday sun outside. I walk down the corridor, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m walking into something I can’t quite understand. An elderly woman at the front office desk spots me and stands up immediately, her expression tense. I realise that I momentarily forgot I’m in uniform, and she’s probably worried that something has happened.

“Oh! O-officer. Can I help ya?” she asks, her voice stuttering slightly.

“Sorry to rock up unannounced.” I nod to her. “My name is Officer Mitchell. I’m here to see one of your staff members.”

“Oh, dear. Is everything alright?” she inquires, her brow furrowing slightly.

“Quite alright. Just doing a brief check-up,” I reply, with a curt nod.

“Oh. I wasn’t aware we’d be needing one. Shall I fetch the principal for ya?”

“No. I was after a particular staff member.” Her eyes go wide as saucers, as she stutters a response back.I’m aware that as soon as I say this, it sounds very ambiguous.

“Nothing troubling at all. I didn’t mean to alarm you. Just checking in on them,” I reassure her.

“Righto. Who ya after?”

“Miss Brown.”

She smiles warmly and nods, understanding dawning in her eyes. “Ah, yes, Miss Amelia Brown. She’s currently in class, with her kindergartens. Just down the hall to ya left,” she says, pointing in the direction.

“Thank you.” I nod gratefully, starting to walk off in the direction she indicated, but before I can get far, she stops me, apologising.

“Hold on, where are my manners? Let me escort you.”

“No need. I can manage just fine,” I insist, but she shakes her head.

“Nonsense. I’ll walk ya, dear.”

As we approach the classroom door, the sounds of children’s laughter and squeals fill the hallways. The sounds cracking ever so slightly at my tough exterior, warming something inside me. Amidst their joyous laughter, my thoughts linger on Amelia, her face still vivid in my mind from yesterday’s ordeal. She’s just a bystander, caught in the chaos of a random incident, yet there’s somethingabout her that pulls at me, something beyond duty or protocol.

I find myself wanting to ensure she’s alright, more than just a passing concern. It’s a tug at my conscience, a gnawing feeling that refuses to be ignored. The warmth I felt moments ago now mixes with a subtle flutter of nerves. It’s not just about the incident anymore; it’s about her well-being, her safety in a world where unpredictability lurks around every corner.

The office lady swings the door open, and I step into the room, immediately scanning for Amelia. What I see stops me in my tracks, my heart momentarily catching in my chest.

There she sits, poised at the front of the classroom, immersed in reading to a group of captivated children. For a fleeting second, my mind goes blank, and I forget why I’m here.

Her smile, gentle and genuine, softens her features as she brings the story to life with every word. All I can focus on is her—the way she interacts with the children, and the way she lights up the room.

It’s mesmerising, and I find myself unable to look away.

4

Isit cross-legged at the front of the classroom, holding up the colourful pages ofThe Very Hungry Caterpillarfor all the children to see. Timmy and Dahlia, two of my more energetic students, are practically bouncing in their seats with excitement.

“Yes, Timmy?” I ask, smiling at the eager five-year-old.

“Miss Amelia, why is the caterpillar so hungry?” he asks, his eyes wide with curiosity.

“Well,” I begin, “the caterpillar is so hungry because he’s getting ready to turn into a beautiful butterfly. Just like how you eat lots of food to grow big and strong!”

Ever since I started teaching kindergarten, I told the kids to call me Miss Amelia rather than Miss Brown. I wanted them to feel more comfortable around me, and since then, it hasn’t changed.

Plus, Miss Brown just soundsplain Jane boring.

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