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“I don't think I want to,” Callie admits in a low tone.
My heart breaks, and I know there is nothing I can do to change the young girl's mind. The only thing I can do is wait, which is what I decide to tell the girl.
“Very well then. I am going to wait out here for as long as you stay locked in the stall.”
“You can’t do that. You have classes to teach.” Callie informs me as if I do not already know.
“I also have you to convince,” I say with a soft laugh. “If you come out, I'll go teach after I ensure that Ashley doesn't go unpunished,” I inform her because I need her to know she didn't do anything wrong to receive such hate.
I decide to take Callie's lack of response to mean that she is truly listening.
“Look, Callie. What Ashley said to you was wrong. You are not a freak. You're not weird for being the way you are. You have to know that and never allow negative words to get to you. Never allow bullies to bring you down to their level.”
I close my eyes and try to ignore the ache in my heart. This is exactly why teachers are advised to not have favorites, isn't it? There is a dull ache in my heart that refuses to go away. I feel like I need to take all of Callie's pain away. If I could, then I would.
I wait with bated breath when the latch sounds and Callie steps out. Our eyes meet and I brave a smile.
“How are you feeling?”
“Sad.” She tells truthfully.
“Everything will be fine, Callie,” I promise her.
As we begin to move out of the stall, Callie's voice, soft and vulnerable, says, “Miss Donovan, would you please call my dad?”
“Sure,” I respond. “As soon as we get to class, I'll call him.”
“I don't think I want to follow you to class,” Callie informs me with a deep frown.
Fighting the urge to give the girl a reassuring pat on the back, I say instead, “You don't have to.”
Callie nods, and we continue to make our way toward the principal's office where I do not find Ashley.
I turn to leave in search of Ashley, and Callie clutches my hand, her eyes wild and desperate.
“Please don't go.”
“I won't.” I concede immediately. It is a promise I am going to keep. I am glad Mr. Beatles does not comment on the interlude even though he looks curiously between us.
I use Mr. Beatle’s phone to call Sebastian's office. As soon as the call is transferred, his deep throaty voice filters through. I close my eyes and press the phone harder against my ear, fighting off the longing to soak up the sound of his low-timbered voice.
“It happened again, hasn't it?”
I nod and recall he isn't physically present, so I clear my throat.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I think it would be a great idea if you came down here.”
“I'll be there in ten.” He replies and hangs up.
I turn to give Callie a reassuring smile, certain she has overheard the entire conversation. I hope she didn't catch the way my breath caught at the sound of her father's voice.
“Why don't you go get snacks?” I say with a smile. I need to have a personal talk with Mr. Beatles.
“I am not hungry.” Callie turns away from me to look out the window.
Just then, the secretary, Mrs. Jones, comes in with candy.
“I bet you aren’t hungry for this.” The older woman says in a sing-song voice.
