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We don’t get to talk anymore since the last bell for lunch went off and his classmates start to filter in, all chatting about different things.
Once the last student comes in, I clap my hands. “I have an idea for something we can do this afternoon. Something that Lucas inspired in me.” I smile at the boy who now sits in the front row next to Ciara, and he beams from the attention.
“I want all of us to write a paragraph about one thing that we can fix. One thing that maybe we’ve done wrong, something that we’d like to fix. And then we’re going to separate into groups, and we’re going to help each other come up with an idea on how to fix it.”
Ciara’s hand shoots straight into the air. “Do they have to bebadthings? Or can we pick something like leaving our bikes outside even though our parents told us to bring them inside.”
“That’s perfect, Ciara.”
I just turned away to write the assignment on the whiteboard when my classroom door slams open.
Karen Zucker, red-eyed and shaking, walks inside with a gun held high. Immediately, I step in her path with my arms held up toward her, showing her that I’m her target, and not the children behind me.
“Mom, what are you doing?” There is a tremble in Lucas’ voice. One that I’d do anything to take away.
I can’t, though. I can’t even turn around, because that will draw attention to the classroom full of targets for her.
“You.” She waves the gun in my face. “Make him shut up!” Karen screams at him, the gun in her hand pointed straight at my face.
“Mom?”
“I told you to shut up.” She keeps screaming. “You’re nothing, you pathetic, worthless piece of shit. Justshut up!”
I turn my head as slowly as I can, shaking it slightly when I see him staring at me, silently asking if he can help.
“No,” I mouth the word, keeping all traces of my voice out of it.
His eyes flash with pain, and he looks at me with tears starting to pool in his eyes. I want more than anything else in the world to take away that torment. But I can’t. Nothing I can do will make it better.
“It’s going to be okay,” I tell my students, taking the chance to reassure them with what little I can. I keep my voice down and then turn back to the disheveled woman who reeks of garbage and alcohol.
Her skin is dirty, bruised, and she looks like shit. Gone is the beautiful woman I’d faced at Rett’s birthday. Karen doesn’t look like she’s even slept in a month. Her eyes dart around the room, expecting trouble from every corner of the room, even though there isn’t anyone else there but me and the students.
Her gun never wavers from my face, though, and for that I will forever be thankful. She can pull the trigger any moment, and I’d rather have her hit me than any of the kids.
“Gods, why are you so perfect?” she rambles, spittle flying out of her mouth. “He’s just a piece of shit, just like his daddy. Don’t tell him it’s okay! It’s not okay! He’s not there to pay for what I need. They don’t want me. They only wanthim!” Her shout fills the room, and the realization of what she’s done to him… what she’s forced her son to do, it crushes me.
Karen bites her lip, shaking the gun at me again, even as I struggle to keep the tears from falling. “Sit down, you’re making me uncomfortable.”
I stare at her, knowing that whatever happens next is completely out of my control. I have to do whatever I can to keep my students safe. No matter the cost.
“I can’t do that, Karen.” I hold my hands out, palms facing her, drawing her attention away from the kids behind me. Making myself the focus for all her rage.
We’ve done enough active shooter drills that my kids know exactly what to do. I know they’ll call 911 and turn the volume down. I know it because we’ve practiced it at least three times since the start of the school year. I know they’ll try to get low and hide behind desks or anything they can use as a shield. To make themselves as small a target as possible. I know because I’ve shown them how to do it. I’d laughed at the time, at the absurdity of it.
Staring at the very real gun in my face, not sure if she will pull the trigger and then turn the weapon on my kids, I realize that the lessons we’ve laughed at are the same ones that might just save their lives.
“It’s all your fault,” Karen whispers brokenly. The rage shining out of her eyes and directed at me—it’s so palpable. “Everything was perfect. We were going to be a family, finally. But you had to go and cause trouble. Like always. Fuckin’Perfect Little Avery.” She spits on the ground. “Everything’s your fault. It always has been. Every single time something good’s come in my life, you’ve taken it away. All he had to do was behave. And you took that away from me. You made him bad!”
Karen has obviously lost it, ranting about me and what I’ve taken from her. And I smile inwardly at the fact that I have. I’ve taken her son, and I’ll die before she gets her hands on him. Not only have I promised Ciara that I’ll keep Lucas safe for her, but I’ve held that crying boy in my arms every single night while he has had nightmares of what his mother did to him. There isn’t anything in this world that will force me to hand that boy over to her.
I can’t chance looking back, but I hear the small shuffles of my students lowering themselves to the ground. At least, that’s what I imagine is happening. Quiet sniffles hit my ears, and I know they are truly afraid.
“They’re scared, Karen,” I try reasoning with her. “Please… Can you lower the gun?”
“No!” she screams, completely out of her mind. “They should be scared. Everyone deserves to lose what I lost.”
“You didn’t lose anything, though, Karen.” I try to reason with a woman I know there won’t be any reasoning with. Even if I lie out of my ass. Shehaslost him and I’ll make sure she never gets him back. “Lucas is right here in class. You spoke with him. He’s here.”
