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slowly. “This is the third time this week you've deliberately harmed another student!”
Brett gave me a sulky expression. “Fine,” he said. “Do it. Call them. See if I care.” He turned on his heel and slouched back to his desk.
“Brett,” I said in a warning tone. “Aren't you forgetting something?”
Brett turned to me with a sullen look on his face. “What?”
I jerked my head towards Lily. She was still sitting at her desk, pouting, her cheeks red with anger.
“Apologize, please,” I said.
Brett groaned. “Sorry, Lily,” he muttered.
I knew I should make him do it again, but I was tired. It had been a long day – honestly, I was just as excited for Friday as the kids, but only because I needed a break.
“Thank you, Brett,” I said. “You may take your seat now.”
Ruth collected the papers and shortly after, the bell rang. The kids screamed and ran from their seats. I didn't even have the energy to make them line up at the door like usual, while they waited for their buses and parents to bring them home. I was so drained – part of me even wanted to call in sick tomorrow, or ask Ruth to cover most of the day. But I knew I couldn't be getting so lazy. After all, it was only my second year teaching.
When the kids and Ruth had gone, I settled behind my desk with a feeling of dread in my stomach. I knew Brett's home situation was slightly unusual – he lived alone with his father – and I wondered if in part, that was the reason why he was acting out. Maybe there was something odd going on at home – maybe there was something beyond my control.
I looked up Brett's father's number, then dialed and held the phone to my ear.
“Hello, this is Hannah. How may I help you?”
I frowned. On Brett's contact page, his mother was listed as Marlene.
“I'm calling for Thomas March,” I said. “I'm June Rogers – Brett's teacher.”
“Oh,” Hannah cooed. “Want me to take a message?”
I frowned. She sounded annoyingly chipper. “No,” I said curtly. “I really need to speak to Mr. March, if possible.” I cringed – if possible? Really? I knew I needed to start being a lot more assertive if I was going to make it as a teacher.
Hannah sighed. “Fine,” she snapped. “Hold please.” Before I could agree, I heard a click followed by elevator music. After just a few moments, there was another click and a deep masculine voice filled my ear.
“Hello, this is Thomas.”
“Hi, Mr. March,” I said. “I'm calling about your son – Brett.”
“Oh. What's the problem?”
I sighed. “Mr. March, I'd really rather discuss this in person. Would you be able to come by the school tomorrow evening, say around three-thirty?”
“Of course.” I shivered. Thomas's voice was thrilling and deep. After listening to the sound of ten-year-old kids all day, it filled me with a kind of pleasure that made me blush.
“Thank you,” I said. “I really mean it.”
“Not a problem. Brett is my first priority.”
We hung up and I shivered again, suddenly nervous about tomorrow. I hadn't had very many parent-teacher conferences, and they'd all gone pretty well...but I'd never had to call a parent about a child's behavior before and I wondered how Mr. March was going to take the news.
When I got home, my roommate Angela was sitting on the couch and watching a movie. She grinned when she saw me. Angela worked at an investment bank, from six-thirty in the morning until three in the afternoon. She was the only person I knew who had a similar schedule to me. That wasn't why we lived together, though – we'd been best friends ever since college, when we'd been assigned as roommates, freshman year. I wouldn't have survived Hunter College without her, and I was still grateful that we were close friends.
“What a day,” I groaned. “I felt like I was behind that desk forever!”
Angela smiled sympathetically before yawning. “I know,” she said. “I opened a bottle of wine. It's in the fridge, you want?”
I hauled myself off the couch and walked into the kitchen, kicking off my heels on the tiled floor. Sure enough, there was a jumbo-size bottle of a white blend in the fridge, and I poured some into a plastic wine glass sitting on the counter.
