66. Birdie

Confession: I always think I deserve less than I do.

The image on the screen depicted the Emerson Academy courtyard flooded with students and parents holding signs in protest.

"What's going on?" Anthea asked.

"Turn it up!" I said.

The screen cut to a newscaster holding a microphone in Ollie's face. Instead of his uniform, he wore a bright pink shirt with a bird on the front. Behind him, there were signs with words like.

brING BACK BIRDIE

JUST SAY "YES" TO BIRDIE

TEACHERS DESERVE GOOD S3X TOO

My mouth fell open at the words, but nothing shocked me as much as the interview.

"I'm here with Ollie Bardot, Emerson Academy student and the organizer of this protest. More than a thousand people have gathered around the school, demanding a job for the guidance counselor who was fired for fraternizing with this student's father."

"No freaking way," Anthea whispered. "That's all for you?"

On the screen, Ollie said, "Emerson Academy has been around since the 1800s, and some of its rules are just as old."

The newscaster brought the microphone back to herself. "You're referring to a rule that forbids staff from dating parents."

"Exactly," Ollie said confidently. "We believe if it doesn't affect their ability to do a good job, then it shouldn't matter who they decide to love."

My heart melted at his words.

"And you believe she was doing a good job, despite breaking the rule?" the newscaster asked.

Ollie looked straight at the camera. "She did the best job. She cares about her students like no one else. She deserves to work at the school, and we students deserve to work with her."

They cut away from Ollie, showing helicopter footage of all the people in the courtyard. There must have been no one left inside the school.

"This brings an excellent question to the public eye," the reporter said. "Is our private life truly private? And should it matter if you do an excellent job? I think you can tell where the students stand on the matter."

My cheeks felt wet, and I realized I was crying.

Anthea rubbed my arm. "Birdie, you're amazing."

I sobbed, wiping at my eyes. "I'm not supposed to be the one crying today!"

"It's baby day," she said. "Everyone's supposed to cry."

I shook my head, turning back toward the screen. Now the news anchor stood with one of my co-workers, the videography teacher, Mr. Davis.

"How was it to work with Birdie Melrose?" she asked.

He smiled at the reporter. "She's a woman like no one else. Completely her own person. It's a true disservice to all the students and staff at this school to lose her."

"What would it take to change the headmaster's mind and bring her back?" the reporter asked.

"An act of God." Mr. Davis shrugged. "Or for the board of trustees to overturn the bylaws."

The reporter smiled into the camera, showing straight white teeth. "Trustees, if you're watching this, you have a lot of people to answer to about this bylaw!" She held her earpiece for a moment. "We'll be covering the protest and providing updates on the case throughout the week! If you'd like to chime in, you can use the hashtag #BringBackBirdie to let us know what you think."

The screen cut to commercial, and Anthea grinned at me. "You are so getting your job back!"

I was still stunned, numb, as Doug walked into the room.

"Why's she getting her job back?" he asked.

Anthea opened her mouth to explain but winced as another contraction spiked on the monitor. Doug immediately went to her side, holding her hand.

I felt like an intruder in that moment. Like this was an experience for Anthea and Doug to share together. As soon as the contraction passed, I excused myself and told them I'd be waiting in the lobby if they needed me for anything at all.

Then I gave Anthea as good of a hug as I could with all the wires. "I love you," I whispered in her ear. "You're going to do great."

She kissed my cheek, just like Grandma Karen would do, and I knew, without a doubt, that everything was going to be alright.

I went back to the lobby and pulled out my phone to call Mara and tell her what I'd seen. Immediately when she answered, she said, "Is there a baby there already?"

"No, Mara, you need to go look at the news! They're doing a protest at the school to try to bring me back. Cohen's son is spearheading the whole thing!"

"What!" she cried. I heard her moving throughout her house and things clattering around. "Do you think Cohen asked him to do it?"

"Cohen wasn't there," I said, trying to ignore how sad that fact made me feel. "I think if he would have been, they would have put him on screen."

"You never know," she said. She was quiet for a moment, then I heard the TV in the background, the newscasters covering more of the protest. I got my own tablet out so I wouldn't miss anything, even though notifications were dinging in my ear. Other people were trying to get a hold of me too, no doubt about the news.

"This is amazing," Mara said. "They have to hire you back now."

"You think?" I asked, doubt filling my mind. Headmaster Bradford was proud, and it was no secret that the Alexanders had a lot of pull at Emerson Academy. "It would mean admitting they were wrong."

"Honey, if they don't, it doesn't look like they'll have any students left to serve."

My heart warmed, and I whispered, "I can't believe they're doing this for me. I always knew how much I loved my students, but I didn't know they felt this way too."

"You're easy to love," Mara said. "Just ask Cohen."

I wiped at my eyes, my throat feeling tight. "I treated him horribly, all because I thought it would save my job. He'd never trust me again."

"Are you sure about that?" Mara asked. "Get on video chat with me."

I drew my eyebrows together in confusion as I accepted her video call. Her camera was pointed toward the television screen in her living room, and the most handsome man I'd ever laid eyes on was looking into the camera.

He looked just as good as always, in brown jeans and a button-down shirt. His eyes were full of emotion as he spoke to the reporter. "I understand having rules for good conduct, to teach our children what is right and wrong. But I never want my son to think loving another consenting adult is wrong, especially if it doesn't affect how you perform your job."

I covered my chest with my free hand. It was a love letter to his son, to his son's right to be who he was. And it made me fall for Cohen that much more.

A commotion sounded to my right, and I saw my parents barging into the lobby. "Sorry, Mara, I've got to go."