Who. The. Hell. Is. That.

And who the hell does he think he is?

This guy has been commenting on everyone about how they look. My socks can't be this long. Jack's shirt can't be tucked in his pants. Dan's hair must be put in a bun, while it comes barely to his shoulder. Brenda's shorts are too short, apparently, and Ben doesn't have the right type of shoes.

A new PE teacher, yay.

I'm pretty sure Mr. Keller was fine with all the things that are now suddenly issues.

Sage is currently at Latin. She chose that instead of PE. And when I'm at arts (which I regret choosing), she has music. Sounds way more fun.

Right now, I think Latin isn't even that bad.

The man starts calling out names. He's at least fifteen years younger than Mr. Keller, though his hair is graying. He's got a few wrinkles, likely from that stupid frown he wears, and clothes that don't look very sporty.

"Gally Potts?" He calls out.

"Here."

"Jeff Gray?"

"Here."

"Brenda Vandermeer?"

"Here."

"Thomas Reyes?"

"Here."

"Ben O'Shea?"

"Here."

Then it goes on until everyone has been clarified as present.

"My name is Janson McAllister, and I'll be your PE teacher for the rest of the school year," he says loudly.

Ben and I share a glance. The boy shrugs. 'What the fuck', I mouth.

"Thomas, isn't it?" His voice cuts through the air, and my heart sinks for a moment. "Mind repeating that?"

"Just saying that Mr. Keller had no issues with the way we dressed. We have the outfits we got from school and we're wearing them, period. He didn't care about socks and the length of the clothes," I tell him.

"Yes, and I am not Mr. Keller," he replies.

"But you could try to talk about the rules he had. Discuss them with us and set some boundaries. How were we supposed to know we're not allowed to wear long socks or whatever?"

His jaw tightens. "I'd like you to remain silent for now."

"Don't have any problems with that."

Mr. McAllister— you know what, I don't even want to talk to him neatly. He's Janson. He wanders around without a goal. "As Thomas just made very clear, yes, I have other rules, which you will all listen to."

"What are those?" Ben asks.

"I was getting to that," he snaps. "I've told you most of them already, when y'all got it. Your clothes need to fit in a decent way. Hair that comes past your ears needs to be put back."

I don't think Dan's hair is long enough to fit in a normal looking ponytail or bun. Neither does Brenda's.

If Sage would've been here, it'd be a whole issue getting that hair in a bun. Janson will probably find it too long to keep in a ponytail. But it's thick, so takes a while to fix. When she does it on her own, at least. I mean, if I had the chance to help her—

"Secondly," Janson interrupts my thoughts, "I don't want any freeloaders. You will be moving the whole period."

"We wouldn't have chosen PE if we didn't want that," Brenda mutters below her breath.

When Sage used to have PE, she also had Mr. Keller for a year. He was so kind that he didn't bother her and her friends sometimes not paying attention. I remember that. And then throwing balls at her group on purpose. Watching her face fall. Or having her yelp as if I'd hit her in the face.

After a dreadful what feels like years, we're finally done, and immediately finished with school for the day.

Sage

Minho can take me home. You don't have to wait another period
Guess I'll see you tonighttt

Damnit.

You sure? I don't mind waiting

Positive

Then I have another hour to bother Mom with questions, I guess. She still hasn't told me what she was acting so strange about. And is working at home today.

☯︎︎

"Okay. Fine!" The second I start, she gives up. "Just please, keep that mouth shut."

I start yelling for Dad to come downstairs until Mom slams a hand to my mouth. "I told you to shut up." And then she starts yelling for him.

After way too long, Dad arrives. He readjusts the cap on his head, confused. "What is it?"

"Mom has news," I blurt out.

He sits down at the kitchen table. I don't know if he should be this chill about it. "Is it good or bad?"

"Depends on how you two react to it," she says.

I stare. Wait for her to speak. The nerves start kicking in a bit.

"I..." She stops, shaking her head. "I'll show you. Stay still."

Dad and I share a look. He shrugs— I now notice a lot of people do that. Just make eye contact and one of them shrugs as in 'I don't know either'.

But it's nothing compared to the silent communication Sage and I have. We can say anything we want without any words, really.

Her expressions, always very excessively, spoil exactly what she's thinking. That's what I like, to be honest. The redness that creases in her face when she's embarrassed. The little bounces on her feet when she's nervous. Those two combined tells you she's flustered.

Mom returns after a minute. She has paled in the time she was gone. Then she lies it down in front of my eyes.

I blink. "You peed on that. It's not very sanitary to lie it on the table."

"Thomas— don't you see what it is?"

"An ovulation test."

"No. I swear..." She buries her head in her hand.

"UTI test?" Dad asks, just as I say, "Pregnancy test?"

"Yes."

"Wait, which one?"

She exhales as she sits down. "A pregnancy test. And it's positive. Guess you'll be getting a sibling, Thomas."

I stare at the test for a long time, unable to speak.

Yes, I've always wanted a sibling, but like— by the time that kid is born, it's a nineteen year age difference. They can be an uncle or aunt before they're even ten years old.

Dad has began talking in the meanwhile. Him, as the most amazing male I know, of course doesn't mind. It's a big thing, he admits that, but obviously he isn't mad. It's partly his fault.

Mom lies a hand on my shoulder. "Thomas?"

I shrug. "Having a sibling feels a bit surreal right now, so I don't know what to think. I don't really mind, I guess. It's just a shock."

"Okay, so—"

"I'm going to the bathroom. One second."

I rush into the little room, taking my phone out.

Sage

YOU
WILL
NOT
BELIEVE
THIS

When in two minutes, I don't get a reply, I figure out she's still at school, and walk back to the kitchen.

"Sorry." I cross my arms. "All I can say is what I just said. Not my choice anyway."

"Yeah, but you're our only son and you've been the only one your whole life. It's a giant change. We will need to take a lot of care about—"

"Yes, I know," I interrupt. "By the time they're born, I've graduated and maybe don't even live here anymore. I really don't mind, Mom."

"Alright, then." She says more, but my phone buzzes, and I'm distracted immediately.

Sage

Help

?

He says he lost my test and is now keeping me in the classroom until he has found it in his bag, Thomas.

Who?

Mr. Leadford. He won't let me leave. Doesn't really give me the chance to speak. And he's slowly getting closer.

The typing icon is still moving when I stick my phone in my pocket. "I need to go," I say fast, and rush outside.

In my pocket, I reach for the car keys— fuck, forgot those. Three seconds later, I'm running down the hill. It doesn't have to take long to get there on foot. But whatever might happen in the classroom can go very fast. Did he lock the door? Viviette tends to freeze when she's scared. And if she can't even walk away— I shake my head. It doesn't have to happen.

Soon, I've arrived at the school's area. I'm too busy thinking about which classroom is the right one to notice all the people I'm bumping into. Some muttered apologies leave my mouth. The nasty glares don't stop.

I sprint through the school corridors, my heart racing with worry. I round a corner, nearly collide with a group of students, but I push through and mutter some more apologies.

The clock ticks on my head. Every second feels like an eternity as I search for the right classroom. I don't even want him to get ten feet close to her.

Finally, I spot the right door, and I burst through so hard that it opens. I don't know if it was locked or not— either way, it's open now.

My eyes meet Viviette's right away. Her expression is fraught with distress. Mr. Leadford, who had been standing way too close, takes a step back with surprise.

The air is thick with tension. "Thomas, this is highly irregular!" His voice rings out, trying to maintain authority despite his clear shock at my intrusion.

Ignoring the protests, I stride over to Viviette. "Let's go."

"Thomas." He blocks my path before she can even take my hand. "You cannot simply interrupt my class and demand—"

"Your class is already over," I bite out. My fists clench at my sides. How satisfying it would be to just hit him right now. "Move."

"This is not how you talk to a teacher."

I don't let him finish; in a swift motion, I move to push past him, but he stands his ground. Viviette is behind him, in the corner of the room, unable to get away.

"This is not how you block students' paths," I say. "Move. Class is over and she did nothing that has to make her stay. Besides, teacher's are usually not allowed to be alone in a classroom with a student. So get out of the way."

With an angry look of resignation at me, the teacher steps to the side. My arm wraps around Viviette so I can make our way out of the classroom as fast as possible. My gaze remains fixed on Mr. Leadford until we're gone. I hope he knows that we will really be reporting him now.

We walk down the hallway. My pulse starts to slow at her presence, but the adrenaline stays. "Are you okay?" I ask, the concern etched in my voice making it sound so soft.

She nods, though her eyes are wide with lingering fear. "Yeah. Thank you."

The weight of the situation lies heavy on us while I lead us to the front desk. It escalated so quickly it still got me a bit surprised. But I've got one thing clear— he won't lie a single hand on her. Ever.

Luckily, the woman at the front desk is present.

"Hi," I say, out of breath. "We'd like to report the science teacher Mr. Leadford. He has been getting way too close to Viviette over here. Acting creepy."

She looks at Viviette. "Did he touch you?"

"No," she says, her voice barely audible above the bustling noise of the school. "But he got, like, really close. I think that if Thomas hadn't interrupted those three times it happened, things would've gotten worse."

"I'll tell him," she says.

"No. You need to fire him," I tell her, leaning closer so she can hear me better. "Might as well call the police already. You don't want the school you work at to have a bad reputation, do you? Tell the principal and do something about it. If he does it again, we will report the whole school."

She stares at me for a few seconds. Then, "Okay. I will tell the principal and will do something about it."

"Perfect." I step back with a small nod. "Thank you. Let's go, Sage."

We start the walk home in silence. She's too upset to notice I ran here. I squeeze her hand gently. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yes. It was just really scary. I thought he'd do something. I wasn't stopping him. I froze, and you didn't reply to my other messages, so I didn't know if you'd be sending help." Her breaths come in shallow, uneven bursts. "And you scared me, to be honest. Thought you'd start fighting him." A little forced laugh follows.

"If he didn't move, I would have," I say. "But that's not the point— you don't need anything at all?"

"No. Just... thank you for coming."

I squeeze her hand again. "Of course."

A faint, but realer smile tugs at her lips. It's like a flicker of relief against all the bad things. Just that sends a rush of warmth over me. "All I can be is glad I got there in time," I add.

She leans so close to me that I pull her in a hug, in the middle of the route. Her head finds my chest to rest on. I swear my eyes close automatically as I run my hand up and down her back.

After that, we continue walking, hands still attached. "Do you want to go somewhere? Buy ice cream from... the supermarket."

Maybe if Dad gets me another few thousand dollars, I can buy the ice cream bar and let it be open even in the winter.

"No. We can go home. You need to inform me on that thing that happened," she replies.