Page 2 of Fury

She doesn’t look up; her fingers remain firmly fixed in front of her, so tightly wound that her flesh is turning white. She’s terrified, and it breaks my heart to think about what it is she might have gone through to feel this way. No child should ever feel like they’re not safe, and I’m going to do everything I can to make sure she never feels that way in this classroom.

“It’s scary, isn’t it? Starting a new school. I had to come here just last year, and I had no friends, but the good news is, everyone here is super nice, and I just know that you’ll make so many friends.”

Her fingers loosen just a bit, but she doesn’t look up.

“I’m told your name is Hope. That is my favorite name. If I ever have a daughter, that’s just the name I’d pick.”

She glances up at me through those beautiful long lashes. She’s a stunning little girl, with soft blond hair and olive skin. Her eyes, as blue as the sky, are framed with thick lashes. Her dress, on the other hand, looks as though it needs a good wash, and I’m not going to pay attention to the lack of socks today. No, today is just about showing her that she is safe here.

“If you’d like,” I go on, “you can sit up the front, right beside me today. I know it’s scary being in a new place, but I promise you’re safe up there. Would you like that?”

A small nod.

A hell of a victory.

“That’s wonderful, come on. I’ll get you a seat and then we’ll get started.”

She follows me up to my desk at the front of the room, and I set her up with a small chair which she promptly sits down on. The class slowly fills, and I smile and welcome all of my students. Teaching first grade is my favorite part of the job. There is something about the kids, they’re just so innocent and sweet, their souls so pure. It makes me feel safe just being around them, and, in turn, they receive the same feeling.

“Good morning, class.” I smile, raising my hand so they know it’s time to sit down. They do so, without hesitation. “Today is a special day, because today we have a new student. I’m sure you all remember just how scary your first day of school was, so let’s make sure to be kind, compassionate, and caring toward her on her first day. Would you all like to welcome Hope?”

The class sings out a happy “Welcome Hope”, and out of the corner of my eye, I see the little girl lift her head and peer at them.

I’d say that’s a good start.

“If you’ll all open your textbooks, we’re going to continue on with some reading this morning. But not before we do our morning song; who is going to take it away today?”

A student by the name of Ben shoots his hand up into the air, his big toothy grin eager.

I laugh. “Go on, Ben.”

Standing up, Ben puffs his little chest out and, in his biggest voice, he sings the class the song we wrote together on the first day of school. It’s their favorite part of the day, and hearing their little voices sing along is the highlight of mine.

“Welcome welcome, kids and pals, to Miss Parker’s class. Together here we’re all friends, bound together by our hearts. We love to learn, and we love to read, but mostly we love when we are freed, into the playground we go, swings and sand, joining hands. It’s our happy place, it’s our happy place, where we sit all day, with big smiles on our face.”

As they finish up the song, I can see Hope is looking up now, her head fully risen. She is glancing around the classroom, her eyes taking in the beautiful colored paintings on the walls and lights hanging from the ceiling. I made it my mission to make my classroom fun, to ensure that it has an abundance of life for the kids to enjoy. We have fish tanks and colored mats, tents, and blocks.

It’s my happy place.

Because when I go home, into the darkness of my marriage, I’m no longer free.

This is the only world where I can truly be myself and, without it, I don’t think I could go on.

“Are we ready to learn?”

The class cheers, and just like that, my day is bright.

For now.

“HI, BONNIE, IS IT?”

The woman who brought Hope in to school this morning is fetching her things in the afternoon when I approach her. She’s polite and kind, but I know that Hope isn’t her child. As far as I know, she’s filling in for someone, but I’d like to get the full story so I’m able to figure out her situation.

Bonnie turns, her face lighting up with a smile. “Yes, that’s me. I’m so sorry I didn’t get much of a chance to chat this morning. I’m new to all of this.”

Bonnie and I appear to be of a similar age. I’m a young teacher, but the students seem to love that, and, because of it, I feel as though I connect with them better. I recognize Bonnie from a few stories that happened a while back. I know she’s a reporter who got involved in a biker club and ended up clearing the name of the town’s biggest criminal. At least, what the town thought was their biggest criminal. Turns out, it was the people meant to protect us who were the dangerous ones.

Isn’t that always the way?

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