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“Callie doesn't talk to herself, does she?”
Chelsea bites her lower lip thoughtfully.
“I guess not.”
“Good. And maybe Callie is also just in a very bad mood. Don't allow what she said to get to you, alright? I'm certain she meant nothing by it.”
Chelsea, after a minute of thinking, shrugs.
“I guess you're right, Miss Donovan. Callie is kind of cool and I have always wanted to be her friend.”
“I'm sure she wants to be your friend too,” I assure the little girl and lead her by the hand to her desk where I begin to help her pack. “I'll see you Wednesday afternoon, Chelsea,” I tell her as she slings her backpack against her back.
“See you, Miss!” The little girl replies as she begins to skip to the door.
I turn to Callie. She is sitting at her desk, her pencil scratching furiously against the paper. I can hear her sigh intermittently while she tries to finish her paper.
“You might tear that.” I point out, as I go to sit beside the young girl.
“I don't care.”
“You should. I am going to grade that.”
“Well, I still don't,” Callie responds, raising her eyes to meet mine.
“Callie,” I say. “Your behavior today is unacceptable. You recently have not been getting along with your classmates and several other teachers have complained about the same thing. Is there anything going on you might like to talk to me about?” I question using the softest voice so as to not scare her. I can tell that Callie's actions are more than just rebellion and sass.
“Nothing going on and nothing I wish to talk to you about.”
I nod, trying not to let the child's words sting.
“Alright. Since that's the case, I would like to inform you that your father is on his way here.”
“I know, I heard you speak with him over the phone. Why didn't you call Chelsea's parents too? She's the one who started it.”
At her question, I can feel my patience running thin.
“Callie, you were the one who yelled. Chelsea apologized to you, and I could tell it was not entirely her fault.”
“Yes. It was all mine. It always is.”
My heart breaks a little at the hurt in the girl's voice. I can't help but drop my hands on the girl's own, but Callie throws them off.
“Don't touch me.”
I withdraw immediately.
“I'm sorry,” I apologize for touching her without her consent.
Just then, a throat clears behind us. I turn around to find Sebastian Vaughn at the door. The secretary, a middle-aged woman, turns around and begins to move away. She had probably walked him here.
I stand up immediately and walk over to him, ignoring the urge to smooth my skirt or tuck my hair consciously behind my ear. I can't help but feel a little intimidated by his imposing frame and how his presence has managed to suck all the air out of the room.
Sebastian's eyes are hazel, similar to his daughter's. Although his daughter's eyes are always fiery, his are cold and penetrative as they watch me move.
“Mr. Vaughn.” I welcome when I reach him.
“Miss Sullivan,” he says matter-of-factly.
