Chapter Text
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Cassie stands on her little stepping stool in the bathroom, arms lifted dramatically above her head like she’s being sacrificed to the Uniform Gods.
You bite back a smile as you tug the crisp white t-shirt on and help her button it up.
“Four days of this?” Cassie groans, flopping her head back. “Four whole days? That’s, like… thirty years.”
“It’s literally four days,” you laugh, smoothing the collar. “And you look adorable.”
“I’d rather wear my dinosaur dress.”
“I know,” You say softly, brushing a curl behind your daughter’s ear. “But rules are rules. Uniform on school days, and on Fridays you can wear anything you want.”
Cassie narrows her eyes. “Anything?”
“Anything that covers your body,” you correct. “And doesn’t have glitter that falls off.”
Cassie gasps dramatically. “That was one time! One time! And it got in your eyes for only one minute!”
You rub your forehead. “And Uncle Stiles found glitter in the toaster. So let’s not do that again.”
Cassie snorts and reaches for her backpack —blue with space craft patches, she picked out herself. She hugs it to her chest, suddenly quieter.
You notice immediately.
“Hey,” you kneel, eye-level. “What’s going on in that head?”
Cassie shrugs, staring at the tiled floor. “What if nobody talks to me?”
“Oh, honey…” you pull her into a hug. “You’re smart. You’re kind. Kids love people who are kind.”
Cassie’s voice is small. “What if I miss you too much?”
Your own throat tightens —the familiar ache of old fears that your daughter carries in her chest, the ones she never should have had to learn.
“You can miss me,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You can miss me a whole bunch. I’ll miss you too. But you’ll have fun. You’ll make friends. And at the end of the day, you’ll come home and tell me everything, okay?”
Cassie nods. “Okay. But can I take my sketchbook?”
“Absolutely.”
“And a snack?”
“Already packed.”
“And my lucky leaf?”
You blink. “The one we found outside the grocery store?”
“Yes. It’s lucky. It looks like a heart.”
You smile. “Then of course you can take it.”
Cassie slips her tiny hand into her mom’s. “Do you think the teacher will be nice?”
“Ms Thompson?” you huff a laugh. “She's wonderful, and she’ll probably give you extra cupcake on your birthday.”
Cassie grins, confidence finally sparking in her eyes. “Okay. I’m ready.”
You grab the keys, the lunchbox, your composure —all three somehow staying together— and step out to lock the door.
The morning air is cool, the sun barely peeking over the rooftops as you and Cassie walk hand in hand. It’s a quiet neighborhood —one that still feels unfamiliar and new, but calm in a way you haven’t experienced in years.
Cassie swings their hands with each step. The uniform looks just a little big on her, sleeves brushing her elbows, the shorts falling past her knees.
“Do you think Uncle Derek will pretend he doesn’t know me?” she asks.
You smile. “He’s going to pretend very hard.”
Cassie nods thoughtfully. “He’s very good at pretending. But Uncle Stiles is not.”
“No, he isn't,” you agree, laughing softly. “Be patient with him.”
They reach the school gates —a clean, modern campus with a courtyard full of parents and kids buzzing with first-day energy. All the beautiful chaos reminds you of why you wanted this move. A safer place. A place where Cassie doesn’t have to flinch at sudden noises. A place where she can grow.
And there he is.
Principal Derek Hale, standing right inside the reception area. He’s wearing a navy button-down, sleeves rolled just enough to make the moms blush, and he’s smiling —genuinely smiling— at a kid who’s showing him a rock he found on the way to school.
Derek gives the rock a full, solemn inspection.
“Very cool,” he says. “That’s definitely a lucky rock. Keep it in your pocket —you might need it for math class.”
The kid beams and runs off.
Then Derek spots you and Cassie.
His smile changes, softens in a way he tries (and fails) to hide. He subtly clears his throat, straightens, and switches to “Professional Principal Mode™.”
“Miss Hale,” he says warmly, kneeling slightly to her level. “Looking ready for a big first day.”
Cassie stands a little straighter too, remembering The Talk they had last night.
No calling Derek ‘Uncle’ at school.
No running up to hug him.
Absolutely no telling people that he can do a perfect back flip.
“Good morning, Principal Hale,” she says, voice tiny but steady.
Derek’s chest puffs up like she just recited the Constitution.
“And how are we feeling today?” he asks, crouching slightly to meet her eyes without touching her.
Cassie fidgets with her sleeve. “A little scared.”
Derek nods, serious. “That’s normal. First days are big. But I checked the roster myself —your teacher is great, and your class is full of very nice kids. You’ll be safe here.”
Your throat tightens. You know that reassurance isn’t just for Cassie.
“And,” Derek adds in his professional-principal voice that’s still 100% uncle-coded, “if you need anything —anything, you tell your teacher, okay?”
Cassie nods fast, strands of hair bouncing.
You sigh with a smile. “Thank you, Derek.”
He shifts into softer-brother mode instantly. “She’s going to be fine,” he assures you quietly. “We all have eyes on every kid.”
“I know,” you say.
Behind Derek, at the far end of the reception, someone sticks their head out of the library doorway.
Stiles.
He’s Mieczysław Stilinski-Hale on paper, the extremely legit co-chairman of the school. But to the students? He’s Stiles —the chaotic, beloved librarian who wears novelty socks and narrates story time with full dramatic flair.
He waves a little too enthusiastically.
Cassie waves back, giggling.
You pinch your lips to stop a laugh. “He’s really not supposed to be this obvious.”
“He’s trying,” Derek says dryly. “Failing. But trying.”
Stiles cups his hands around his mouth and whisper-shouts, “HAVE A GREAT FIRST DAY, CAS!” then ducks back into the library like that somehow made it subtle.
You sigh. Derek sighs.
Cassie giggles.
“Okay, bean,” you say gently, kneeling to Cassie’s level. “I’ll see you after school. You’ve got this.”
Cassie wraps her arms around your neck in a tight hug. Then she lets go, takes a breath, and heads down the hallway toward her class.
You watch her go, heart tugging a little.
Derek stays by your side, watching his niece meet her teacher. “You did the right thing bringing her here.”
You nods. “I know. I just… hope she finds her people.”
“She will,” Derek assures her. "Don't worry, kiddo."