Whether we ever build something new from the pieces…
Only time will tell.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Leif
My footsteps echo along the polished tile as I head down the main hallway at Pinecrest Academy, past trophy cases and bulletin boards crowded with announcements. A new notice with the superintendent’s signature stamped at the bottom catches my eye.
I slow, scanning the words.
Effective immediately, Carson Whitaker has been placed on administrative leave pending the conclusion of an investigation into professional misconduct…
The words should feel like victory.
Instead, there’s only an empty space in my chest for everything this cost me.
As I continue down the hall, the bell to change school periods rings, and I flinch.
Classroom doors burst open, flooding the hallway with students and noise. Conversations falter as heads turn toward me, taking in the fading bruises beneath my concealer.
I keep walking. If I want to still work here, I need to get used to the stares.
Mrs. Peters steps out of the science lab, her copper hair pinned into a tight bun. Our eyes meet, and instead of turning away, she gives me a nod.
Warmth spreads through me at the acknowledgment.
Mr. Collins from English does the same.
Ms. Rodriguez from Spanish pauses beside me, her hand brushing my elbow. “It’s good to see you back.”
Tears threaten at the simple words.
The administrative office door waits at the end of the hall, frosted glass stamped with the school logo in navy and gold.
I pause before pushing it open.
Inside, Ms. Heinrich types at her desk, glasses balanced on the end of her nose. When her head lifts, her fingers freeze over the keyboard. “Mr. Hollis, we weren’t expecting you today.”
“I’m here to complete the paperwork for my return,” I explain, approaching her desk. “The superintendent said it would be ready.”
“Of course, of course. Let me get that for you right away.” She riffles through a stack of folders beside her computer, pulling one marked with my name. “Would you like some water? Coffee?”
The deference in her manner throws me. While Carson was in office, Ms. Heinrich treated me with professional distance at best, thinly veiled skepticism at worst. Now she speaks to me as if I’m someone to be accommodated.
“Water would be nice,” I say, and she hurries to the water cooler in the corner.
She places a paper cup on the desk beside the folder. “I’ve marked where you need to sign. It’s just formalities, really. Administrative leave with pay, retroactive to last Monday.”
I take the folder and water before settling into one of the visitor chairs. The folder contains several forms outlining my return to duties, the conditions of the school board’s review, and my rights during the investigation. I scan each page before signing, aware of Ms. Heinrich’s anxious stare.
“I just want to say,” she begins, then stops, her fingers pleating the edge of a sticky note. “What happened to you was… Well, it was an inconvenience that never should have occurred.”
An inconvenience. As if Carson’s manipulation and eventual violence were on par with a delayed bus or a misplaced set of keys.
“Thank you for preparing these,” I say, signing the final page, my signature steady despite the slight tremble in my fingers. “When can I resume substitute teaching?”
“Tomorrow, if you’re ready.” Ms. Heinrich accepts the completed forms, tapping the edges on her desk to align them. “We have a couple of teachers who have requested personal leave.”