Page 98 of Tank’s Weakness

It’s not technically late, but it is after the end of the school day. One of the requirements for me to come back to clean out my room. The district thought it would be best if I came an hour after the end of the day so there would be no risk of students seeing me.

Not only that, but I know Principal Marshall is in the hallway waiting for me. He was kind enough to let me do this alone but had to stay close. I guess in case I lose it and do something stupid.

I would never, though.

“I’m sure.”

Mr. Smith clears his throat. “I know we don’t know each other well, but I just wanted you to know your kids miss you. They keep asking when you are coming back.”

I offer him a smile. “I really appreciate that, actually. Thank you.”

“At least let us carry some boxes to your car for you?” Lydia says.

“If you really want to, my car is unlocked.” I shrug.

Mr. Smith frowns. “That’s not very safe.”

“Haven’t you heard? She’s dating a guy who’s part of an MC. No one is going to mess with her.” Lydia winks, making us laugh.

“Good point.” Mr. Smith smiles before looking back at me. “My brother is a vet and is part of an organization back home that’s all bikers. They aren’t one-percenters or anything, but still they get a lot of judgmental looks for what they do. I’m sorry this is happening to you. It’s not fair.”

“Thank you,” I say quietly, feeling touched.

Maybe Lydia was right and not everyone on staff thinks I deserve this.

“Okay, well, we will take these and then lock your car when we are done. Make sure you lock it between trips. We don’t need anyone crawling into your back seat while you wrap things up,” Lydia says as she grabs a box.

“I appreciate it.”

I watch as she loads Mr. Smith down with two boxes and then grabs one for herself.

“I’ll see you soon,” she says before walking away.

Sighing, I get back to work. It takes me roughly another hour and roughly four trips to my car before everything is cleared. I hate that Principal Marshall shadows me the entire time. It’s like I can no longer be trusted. It has a sourness settling into my gut.

When I’m finally done, I take one last look around my empty classroom. There are no posters on the wall, half the books from the bookshelf are gone, and a bunch of the other decorations are gone along with the beanbags I had bought for the reading corner with my own money.

It looks so sad and depressing. Lifeless, really.

But it’s a blank slate for whoever takes my place to fill. Whoever steps into my shoes, though, I hope they like the kids’ name tags and star chart I left behind.

I head out of my room, shutting off the light behind me as I go. The halls are quiet, my sneakers squeaking on the freshly polished floors as I go.

“I’m really sorry it has to come to this,” Principal Marshall says.

“Me too. I think it’s best we leave it at that. My lawyer doesn’t think we should speak off record.”

He nods. “Probably for the best.”

He holds the door open for me, waiting until I step through before it slams shut.

Don’t cry.

Whatever you do, don’t cry.

Taking a shuddering breath, I head to my car. I unlock the passenger door before setting the last box in the passenger seat.

It breaks my heart to see all the things I bought out of my own pocket to make these kids’ lives better.