57. Birdie

Confession: Sometimes I want to punch my students in the face.

I'd expected the intimidating wooden furniture. Headmaster Bradford's hands folded on the desk. Even Marjorie's smug smile as she shut the door behind me.

What I hadn't expected to see was Ryde Alexander slouched in a chair next to his mother. Pam Alexander sat in a bright red dress and killer black pumps with the smile of a cat who'd just killed a poor, innocent canary.

"Sit," Headmaster Bradford said to me. His voice was formal, cold.

Trying not to show the wobble in my legs, I did as I was asked.

"Mrs. Alexander and her son came to me this morning with interesting news," Headmaster Bradford said. "Do you know what that might have been?"

I kept my gaze even. Because if I didn't, my eyes would have shot daggers at both of them. I didn't like the game, the way they were treating me like I'd committed an unforgiveable crime. "I'm curious," I finally said.

"Very well." He let out a sigh and shifted forward, steepling his fingers atop his desk. "It has been brought to my attention that you are having intimate relations with a parent."

I opened my mouth to speak, but he already had out the blue leather handbook with Ad Meliora embossed in gold.

"Article III, section 12b," he said. "‘Teachers are strictly forbidden from having any relationship with an Emerson Academy parent, aside from that of a collaborator for the betterment of a student's education. Romantic involvement is prohibited except in the case of teachers who are also parents."

Every inch of me was screaming at myself to crawl into a hole and stay there until this was over. I knew the rule full well. I'd cited it to Cohen before we'd taken things further than we ever should have.

Headmaster Bradford continued reading. "The consequence for breaking these rules can be as minor as probation or as severe as dismissal." He glanced to Pam, who smiled even wider, and Ryde, then turned back to me. "The bylaws state severity of the consequence is determined by past performance assessed by—"

"—an Emerson Academy parent and student," I finished. That was why Pam was here, along with her son. She wanted to weigh in on my behavior.

"So you are familiar with at least some of the bylaws," he snipped. Then he lifted a folder. "I've reviewed your achievements and reprimands during your time here. Mrs. Alexander and her son have shared their experiences working with you, and I've come to a decision. We're letting you go, Ms. Melrose, effective immediately. You may have the morning to clear your office."

He rose to stand, but my head was still spinning.

"W-wait," I said, blinking quickly. That wasn't how this meeting was supposed to go. I was supposed to be bold and in charge, state my case. I'd barely even had a chance to defend myself.

"Yes, Ms. Melrose?" Headmaster Bradford said.

"Can I not speak for myself?" I asked, firming my voice, my resolve.

"As you well know, sordid actions speak louder than words."

His words hit me like fists, but I pressed on. "My actions at this school have always been in the best interest of the students. I've worked late, made connections, helped countless students get into their goal colleges. How has my performance not been satisfactory?"

"If you must know," Headmaster Bradford said, "we were on the fence about keeping you past this year. Especially as of late, you haven't been presenting the polished front we prefer for Emerson Academy."

"Are you talking about my new clothes?" I asked. "I don't wear these for me! I wear them for students like him." I gestured at Ryde. "I wear them for students who are so afraid of being who they truly are that they'll lash out on innocent people. I wear them so students can see it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks, only what you think of yourself."

Headmaster Bradford pressed his lips together. "Perhaps that ideology will be better received at a public school."

My lips parted. Everyone in the room knew that was an insult. But I wasn't ready for him to make me leave without a fight. "And you brought in Pam Alexander as your parent of choice? That's hardly an objective representative of my time here."

"I'm assuming you'd prefer to have Mr. Bardot brought in instead?" Headmaster Bradford asked, raising an eyebrow.

I sputtered, unable to argue through the red I was seeing in my eyes. Through the helplessness that permeated every inch of who I was. "This job is everything to me. Everything."

Ignoring my plea, he stood and walked to his office door, holding it open. "I have a security company on standby. Please do not make this more difficult than it needs to be."

Every word hit me like knives to the back. In the last three years, I'd given everything to this school, to my students. And now they were casting me aside without a second thought.

Numbness settled over me, and it felt like I was walking in a trance on the way back to my office. All around me, students were flooding the halls, happy to see each other, getting ready for first hour. They had so many new beginnings every single day, but this was my end.

I choked on a sob and covered my face so no one would notice. But I could feel them staring just as surely as I felt the throbbing lump in my throat.

I ducked into my office and shut the door behind me. My hands shook as I took a canvas bag one of the college recruiters had left and started shoving items inside.

I tried to grip the handle of the bag, but my fingers shuddered, and I dropped it, collapsing beside it on the floor. I didn't even have it in me to tell Ralphie what had happened. That we were leaving this place he had called home for so long. That our new home would be with my best friend, who had already done far too much. That getting a new job and a new place to live were going to take that much longer.

That not only had I lost my job, I'd lost Cohen too. He would never forgive me. And even if he could, I'd never be able to look at him again without thinking of all I'd lost because I just couldn't say no.