Page 80 of Tank’s Weakness

“Calm down, please, Miss Harris,” Mrs. Lynch says.

I turn toward her. “Calm down? Did you really just tell me to calm down? I just found out that some sicko watched me in my house without my consent. That I’m going to have to go to the police station and make another report. Only for you to add salt to the wound by firing me. Would you really be calm right now?”

She raises her hands and looks away.

Principal Marshall sighs. “I’m sorry, Miss Harris, but our hands are tied, as I said. I do recommend that you go to the police and report this incident as well. Hopefully this will be the motivation they need to figure this all out for you.”

My hands shake as I rub them up and down my face. “When does the termination take place?”

“Immediately,” he says, cutting me deeper.

“But my kids. I need to…”

“You are not allowed near the students,” Mrs. Lynch says, cutting me off.

“What about the things in my classroom?” I ask, heart breaking.

“You can come back after hours to collect your things,” Principal Marshall says.

“We will send one of the teachers to your room to collect your purse and whatnot so you can leave before anyone sees you,” Mrs. Lynch adds.

I close my eyes, my mind racing a million miles an hour, but only one thought plays on repeat.

This can’t be happening. This has to be a nightmare.

Tank

All day I’ve been waiting to escape the shop to go check on Delaney. When I texted her at lunch, she told me that she went home early, feeling sick. Which surprised me because she was perfectly fine when I left her before work.

Then again, when you spend time with a bunch of little kids, I guess the plague can hit you when you least expect it and with little warning. Or maybe she’s not actually sick but left early because of her period, which was Sloane’s bet when I told her.

Still not sure what’s wrong, I don’t show up empty-handed. I have soup, crackers, some meds that are supposed to help with congestion and stomachaches, along with popsicles that will help you stay hydrated and tampons.

I want my girl to have options and to know that I got her no matter what life throws at her.

Jumping off my bike, I grab the shit from my saddlebags and head up the steps. When I knock, no one comes to the door, but I hear the TV playing softly, making me frown.

Maybe she’s asleep?

Reaching for the handle, I turn it and find that the door is unlocked. I step into the house and see that all the lights are off. My girl is sitting in the dark, with a blanket over her lap as the TV plays across the room. She’s not staring at it, though, but instead across the room at the bookshelf.

“Laney, you okay?” I ask.

“No,” she rasps.

“Give me one second.”

I take the supplies into the kitchen and put them away before joining her.

“Okay, you told me you weren’t feeling well, so I got you some soup and shit. Sloane thought it could be period-related, so I grabbed some tampons. I would have gotten you ice cream, but I was afraid it would have melted on the ride over here,” I say as I approach her.

She hiccups, shoulders shaking.

“Shit, are you crying?” I ask as I take a seat next to her, pulling her into my arms. “Baby, what’s wrong? Does your head hurt? I can get you some shit.”

“My head hurts but not because I’m sick,” she chokes out.

“Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it,” I plead.