Archive of Our Own ^beta

I Do, We Do, You Do

“Mr. Greene! He’s using up all the crayons!”

The assignment hadn’t required crayons, yet here they were. 

Even as his shoulders tensed Nathan didn’t tear his eyes away from his small group around the desk. No, this was the second time he’d tried small groups this week, and he was going to see all his groups today even if it killed him. 

(Admin would probably kill him, too, at their next team meeting if he showed up with no data.)

He propped the small whiteboard on the table and tapped his dry erase marker on the problem a little harder than necessary. “So how do we separate the tens and ones to make this two-digit by one-digit multiplication problem easier?”

Larin (pronounced Lauren, but her mother had gotten creative with the spelling) and Hayden glanced up from the doodles they’d been decorating their whiteboard with. Nathan bit down on the reminder to stop wasting ink. Pick his battles, his mentor teacher had told him last week. 

“Which ones are the tens?” Hayden asked.

“The answer is 42!” Marianne piped up to his right.

It wasn’t 42.

Nathan fixed a patient smile on his face. He underlined the tens in the top number. “So this is the tens place. There’s a three here, so we can draw three tens.” Nathan drew three squares on the left side of the whiteboard and watched as the three of them did the same. They even erased the doodles. “Now we can look at the ones—”

“Mr. Greene! Justin is breaking all the crayons!”

Predictably Justin’s voice rose, somehow louder, “No I wasn’t!”

Nathan knew Justin and Willow wouldn’t stop unless he intervened. The last time he tried to let them solve it amongst themselves Justin had ended up crying at their reading corner, and Willow had refused to participate in any of their morning meeting games. 

So he made the decision to leave his group to try and solve the problem by themselves while he went over to the most-disruptive math station of the lot. Dodging a wayward die and stepping over stretched legs he rounded the group of desks, immediately commanding Willow and Justin’s attention. 

Like flies to honey they both vied for his attention. Willow shoved a handful of broken crayons in his face as part of her evidence while Justin just kept repeating I didn’t mean to break them ad nauseam. 

Nathan mentally calculated how much time they had of Math before the kids had to go Art. (Or was it Music today? Shit.) Sending them both to their respective desks for a break would mean two conversations after stations were over, which would probably overlap with their Art class, aka his planning time.

And he needed his planning time, if only to unwind and prepare himself for Reading and Reading groups. 

Both kids were still going at it, shuffling closer when he didn’t immediately answer to any of their pleas. Justin flexed his hand but didn’t tug at his sleeve as he had in the first couple of weeks of school. Nathan sighed. “Willow, go to Isabel’s group. Justin, go to Aaron’s group.”

Willow rose up in pure indignation. She jutted her chin out and declared, “But I already did that station today,” as though he hadn’t been the one who organized the stations. 

“I know you did, but you are disrupting the rest of your station here, so the consequence is you lose the privilege of doing this station today.”

Justin, as boisterous as he was, was never one to complain about consequences and merely shuffled to Aaron’s group. Willow watched him go, then glanced at Nathan with a see now I can stay here gleam in her eyes. Nathan held firm, however, and he watched her resolve melt off her face like rainwater. 

“Ughh, fine!” She stomped her way to Isabel’s group with as much grumbling as she could get away with.

Which was all. Pick his battles, and all that. 

As expected, the kids went to Art— it was Friday, after all, thank God— and he was in the midst of cleaning up the stations when Barbara walked in through his opened door. 

She was a tall woman who had long given up the pretense of wearing professional clothes as an elementary teacher. Nathan was never sure if the jeans were her only pair or if all the ones she owned had the same scuffed, faded look that spoke of a lot of carpet time and recess duty. Her long, blonde hair was tied up in a no-nonsense ponytail. Surprise, there was no pencil behind her ear this time.

Nathan inclined his head in greeting and finished picking up the markers littered on the ground, capping them as he went.

Barbara perched on a desk that wasn’t smeared in crayon or whatever the kids had for snack that day. “TGIF, right?”

“Amen.” With the whiteboards and markers back in their baskets he had nothing else to immediately distract himself. So Nathan leaned against the shelf and faced his mentor teacher. 

Barbara didn’t beat around the bush; she knew how much they all valued their planning time. “You know, feel free to send either of them to my class for a period.”

He could, but that felt like giving up. Not every teacher had someone he could just send his most disruptive kids to when things got tough. Hell, not every first year teacher got a mentor at all, and he was lucky this district had some semblance of a mentorship program. 

Barbara was already doing so much. She planned with him even though they weren’t required to do so. She didn’t only send him all the resources she had accumulated over the past two decades, but she took the time to explain why she opted to use certain texts or certain math games for stations. There was little he could do to reciprocate. Adding one more kid to her class, if only temporarily, was not the way.

Plus if Kim, their principal, got wind of it, that was just going to be one more thing brought up in his end-of-year evaluation. 

“I’ll think about it,” he lied. Barbara hummed and braced her hands on the desk, preparing to leave if he wanted her to. Nathan worried his bottom lip and decided being more forward would be better in the long run. Besides he needed more conversations with adults during the school day to keep himself sane. “Did I just get that class as my first class, or am I doing something wrong?”

Barbara swung her feet lazily, her worn Converse scraping the metal rung of the desk. How she managed to radiate youth after twenty years of teaching Nathan didn’t know. “It’s your first year. You could be doing everything right and still think you’re doing everything wrong.”

“I didn’t give Willow and Justin a break when they needed it because the class was going to go to Art in five minutes anyway.” Nathan averted his gaze to a scuff mark on the tiled floor.

“It’s Friday, and those two butt heads every day. One less break and heartfelt conversation isn’t going to make or break them.”

True, but he should have at least tried . Wasn’t that the whole point of that three-day training they took in the summer?

Barbara slid off the desk. “Let me know how Reading goes. If groups aren’t going well, just do a read aloud to end the week.”

“Kim would kill me,” he bemoaned.

That earned him a chuckle. “With the turnover at this school, I doubt it.” It was light, unlike the ones he usually voiced when one of his students declared they helped clean up by throwing away all the papers around his desk, some of which were his very important sticky notes 

She left, and Nathan kicked his butt into gear and started to prepare the books he would need for his two small groups. Then he hightailed it for the Art class before he got reprimanded for picking his kids up late for the second time that week. 

The kids came in one by one and immediately picked their books for independent reading. Some glanced at the tablets charging by the wall, but a firm shake of Nathan’s head told them that digital books were not an option today. 

“Yeah, because we’re not going to learn how to read if the computer does it for us,” Larin declared for them all. 

Nathan’s smile bloomed without any conscious thought. “That’s right.”

Miraculously there was no fighting for the reading cushions that day. Once they settled, either at their desks, the carpet, or some corner that still resided within the classroom, Nathan called his first group up.

George, Carson, and Drake all shuffled to him with their books in hand. He didn’t blame them for the slip; they’ve only met with them three times before this. When they spotted the identical printed and stapled graded readers at their desk George’s face fell, Carson immediately flipped through it, and Drake impassively pushed it to the very edge of the desk.

Nathan took his own copy and showed the cover: a little girl in pigtails inspecting the broken straps of her backpack, her books and lunchbox in disarray around her feet. “This is the book we’re going to read today, and probably on Monday if we don’t finish it. It’s called “Patty’s Not So Good Day. I want you guys to read it independently first while I check on the other students. When I come back we’re going to talk about cause and effect and how Patty’s actions are the reason her day turned out the way it did.”

While Carson settled down to read, elbows planted on the desk and face hidden within the pages, no one really jumped for joy. George still clutched his comic book. Drake poked his copy with a tentative finger. 

“When I get back, we’ll discuss.” It was only ten pages with two short sentences in each. They could do it.

Nathan left them when they all had the book in their hands. He wandered over to Hayden, by far one of his most reluctant readers, and watched him follow along to the speech bubbles of his PantherMan comic. He was alone on his singular cushion, tucked in between the cabinets and the window. Closed off from his classmates like always. 

He went over to Michelle— lying on the ground, book in front of her, legs crossed behind her and completely blocking the way— and found her struggling with a chapter book that was way above her reading level. She was reading aloud, every other word wrong, and her eyes flitted back and forth between the text and the black-and-white illustration on the next page. 

Nathan crouched to her level. “How are you doing here?” he said, voice pitched low.

“Good,” she said with a jovial swing of her feet. Behind them, Isabel scooted away. 

“Do you think this book is on your level?” Nathan broached carefully.

Michelle scrunched her face and shrugged. Well at least she didn’t hate reading. Then her face lit up and she flipped on her side to shove her hand down the pocket of her jean shorts. “I made this for you!”

It was a bracelet of strung beads that spelled out MR GREEN in mismatched colors. Wordlessly Nathan took it. The string was stretchy enough for an adult to wear it. He did so now, and Michelle’s smile grew large enough for her eyes to crinkle at the edges. 

“Thank you,” he said, warmth flooding his chest. 

Michelle moved so she sat cross-legged, shoes squeaking against the tile. “My mom bought me this bead making kit for my birthday last week. I made some for the girls, too. Can I give them out?”

“How about you wait until dismissal? Independent reading time is for reading only.”

Michelle’s brow furrowed until she nodded sagely. “Kay. I’ll remind you.”

Nathan straightened and returned to his desk and the three boys. They were all reading their own books. All glanced up when he took his seat. “So what did you guys think about the book?” No one offered their input, though they did put their books down. Nathan shifted in his seat. He was used to doing a lot of talking in these small groups, but it never stopped being awkward. “So in Patty’s Not So Good Day, Patty made a couple of decisions. Drake, can you tell me one decision she made?”

Drake frowned, probably taking it personally that he was the first one called out. “Why do we have to read this book?”

Nathan was also used to the whys. “So we can learn about cause and effect.”

Drake made no attempt to meet his eye. “I want to be a superhero when I grow up, like Spider-Man. I don’t need to read these books.”

That was the snowball the group needed to go completely off topic. George slammed his comic book down and said in a voice too loud for a small group, “I want to be like Daredevil! He’s so cool when he jumps!”

“I’m sure superheroes like Daredevil and Spider-Man need to learn about this, too,” Nathan tried as George mimicked what could have been a dodge or a roll, but he could see even Carson perking up in the excitement. 

George was halfway out of his seat now. He was waving those lanky arms around like Spider-Man’s webs or those sticks Daredevil wielded. “You just need powers or know how to beat people up.”

“And know how to fight.” Oh no, Carson. You were one of the good ones. 

Nathan glanced at the clock on the wall and knew he needed to end this mess before dismissal time creeped up on him. “Okay, boys, I want you to reread the book and highlight one decision that Patty made in the story that caused something bad to happen. I’ll check before you get your backpacks.”

The prospect of using their highlighters paused them enough for Nathan to usher them back to their seats and call his next group. It was Larin’s group again, luckily, so they actually managed to get through the shorter graded reader. All the while George managed to hype up the rest of the kids at the carpet about heroes and vigilantes. 

(At least they followed the “no shoes on the carpet” rule.)

Independent reading was done for the day. Those printed books remained un-highlighted. Aaron and Carson were now mock fighting by the door with stubs of the broken crayons from math stations. 

Willow cried about Drake evading her cushion after she got up to switch books. 

Nathan sunk heavily into his chair. 

Somehow dismissal came and went. With his students on buses and on the way home, Nathan entered the door of his classroom with a stack of print outs for next week’s math stations. When he dropped the stack on his desk and took stock of how much it actually was he suddenly didn’t feel like getting the lamination machine out.

Or picking up the cushions his students had left strewn all over the classroom.

Or starting on his lesson plans for next week because Kim did not accept sticky notes with bullet points. 

He didn’t know how long he sat in front of his laptop with tears pricking his eyes and his head feeling ten times heavier. Barbara didn’t come in, only offered a have a good weekend from the threshold and a wave he didn’t have the energy to return. 

Morning meeting had gone well. No one had fought when they played Telephone. Writer’s Workshop had more writing than crumpled papers this time around. Even math stations had gone okay until Willow and Justin made eye contact, or whatever had set them off this time. 

But wasn’t that always the case? The day would start well, or blocks would start on the right foot, and somehow, in the time it took him to touch base with a student, it all went to Hell in a handbasket. A handbasket of broken crayons and dry erase markers without their caps. 

It wasn’t until the janitor came in that Nathan snapped his laptop shut, shoved it in his backpack, and grabbed his coat to leave. His foot brushed against a stray book that had not been put back on the bookshelf. The janitor, a nice Hispanic woman named Rosa, bid him farewell. Nathan nodded back, refusing to meet her eye. 

She was going to have to clean up around all the crap still on the floor. Dammit he sucked. 

Nathan didn’t bother locking his door. He shuffled to the end of the hallway and through the double doors at the end. Crisp winter air smacked him in the face, burrowed under the collar of his jacket and nipped the tips of his unprotected fingers. Nathan zipped his jacket all the way and crossed the empty parking lot and headed down the sidewalk that would take him further into Hell’s Kitchen. 

He’d really lost track of time. The last rays of sunlight faded by the time the school building fell out of sight. Cold brick rose up around him as apartment buildings and seedy bars, sucking in what little light the street lamps and passing neon signs provided. Nathan let his feet guide him through muscle memory alone. 

The tears that had stung his eyes for the past hour finally broke free to slide down his face. Nathan bit his lip but did nothing to wipe them away. 

God, he was just so— so— Nathan didn’t know what he was. Frustrated. Disappointed. Guilty. An absolute failure. 

Individually they were good kids. Drake was sharp as a wit when he wasn’t so apathetic. Michelle was as sweet as honey . Willow and Justin loved anything math and science and had done amazing projects so far. Each desk, each nameplate he had painstakingly personalized and laminated for them, belonged to an incredible individual.

All the parts were there, so why couldn’t he make it work?

Nathan turned the corner. His backpack thumped along. Just his laptop this weekend. Tests were next week. At least he didn’t have to do grading.

Something tugged at the collar of his jacket.

A man’s voice burst and faded as Nathan lost his balance. 

Suddenly he was on his back, and his head hurt. Nathan blinked the world into focus and found himself staring up windows and clothesline high above his aching head. Still wondering how he ended up on the floor Nathan sat up. A sharp pain lanced across his right elbow, hot and cold all at once. He jerked forward, hunching until he made out the detailed stitching on his shoes. 

“Don’t move!” that same voice somewhere in front of him yelled. 

Ice water slithered through his veins. Nathan froze in his very uncomfortable position. His elbow hurt like a bitch, but he didn’t dare move it. 

“Okay, man, give me your backpack.” Nathan peeked, tilting his head just enough to catch the guy— the bona fide mugger— waving something in his hand. It could have been a knife or a gun. It didn’t matter because Nathan’s insides shriveled up all the same.

He was being mugged. He was being mugged. He was being—

“I said give me your backpack!”

Nathan opened his eyes. The mugger was closer now. He only made out dirty sneakers and jeans before Nathan was being pushed back and up against a wall. On his feet? Nathan scrambled once he left the pavement because he knew if he fell again he wasn’t getting back up. 

The mugger matched every unsteady breath with angry huffs of his own. He was a vibrating mirage in front of his eyes, edges lit by the streetlamps and Nathan’s spotty vision. He waved his weapon again. Back and forth. Forward. Too close. “Your backpack, man! Give it!”

Nathan’s mind jumped to his school laptop and the fee he would have to pay to the district if it got stolen, and the “No!” was ripped out of his mouth before he could think twice about it.

Shit. Shit. Why the everloving fuck did he say that?

The mugger stilled enough for Nathan to see that whatever instrument was going to land him in the hospital was indeed, a knife. “I’m not asking again!”

Nathan tried to open his mouth and fix his horrible blunder. Nothing came out. The knife drew closer, too close, falling into the shadows cast by the mugger’s hunched body. Nathan screwed his eyes shut and let himself succumb to the thunder of his racing heart.

Metal rattled somewhere out of his body. Wind rushed close by, and Nathan’s weak knees gave out, dropping him to the ground in an uncoordinated heap. 

The mugger yelled out, then immediately fell silent with a firm thunk of flesh against more yielding flesh. After a moment of silence Nathan pried his eyes open, only to catch the moment a fist connected with jaw. 

The mugger was on the floor. Another figure picked the discarded knife. Nathan pressed himself against the wall to try and steady his swimming vision. The new guy had some kind of armor and helmet, all hard edges and red broken up by patches of black—

“Fuck.” Nathan felt his adrenaline shoot up. 

Daredevil turned towards him. “You okay?” His voice was rough, like it had been dragged through the playground gravel. Very Batman-like.

Nathan stammered a stream of noise that should have been words but were closer to sobs. His backpack was digging into his back, and he didn’t have the energy to shift into a more comfortable position. Daredevil moved closer, as silent as a shadow ripped from the grimy walls. Nathan shirked back until he was offered a gloved hand. 

His legs were still jelly. The back of his head throbbed. Nathan took the hand before the world tilted any further. 

The jury was still out on whether Daredevil was enhanced or not, but there was no denying the guy was strong . He pulled Nathan up easily, steadying him with a firm hand on his shoulder when his legs didn’t cooperate.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he babbled. 

Daredevil cocked his head. He was close enough where he saw the red reflected off his face. Eye shields? The guy had the beginnings of dark stubble along his chiseled jaw. “You sure?”

And maybe it was the genuine concern from a total stranger that brought the tears back. Only this time the tears flowed and flowed, clogged his throat and turned his voice into a sob. “No, I’m not okay,” he choked out.

Daredevil shifted, hand falling off his shoulder and leaving Nathan swaying. “Umm, you could—”

“My class doesn’t listen to me. I can’t get through one day without them fighting with each other or breaking the supplies or leaving books everywhere.”

“You’re a teacher—?”

It kept coming out like word vomit. “I try to give them breaks and consequences, but it goes in one ear and out the other. Today I just fucking gave up and didn’t do it.”

“I think you should—”

There was the wall again, propping him up and allowing him to aim the words out to his sole audience. “I just let them talk about how they wanted to be like Spider-Man and you.” Daredevil tried to say something again. “I stayed late to print them new stations, and I almost got killed!”

Nathan breathed in for another run and ended up succumbing to a coughing fit. Those strong hands came up again. Daredevil eased him away from the wall and back out onto the sidewalk. They were alone, and maybe that’s why Daredevil lingered long enough for Nathan to realize who he’d just ranted to.

Nathan groaned, one hand running up and down his face. Clammy sweat stuck to his fingers. “God, I’m sorry. You just saved me, and I’m rambling about my freaking problems.”

“It’s alright.” Daredevil smiled a bit. It was odd to see among all the sharp edges of his helmet. 

Why was he still here? Everybody always said how Daredevil only stayed around long enough to take down the muggers and make sure the victim got away. Sure Nathan was still woozy on his feet, but he could stumble home alright, tears and all.

Nathan waited, testing his balance by awkwardly shifting his weight from foot to foot. Daredevil remained. So Nathan started talking again, this time with less phlegm and a lot more calm.

“It’s just… This is my first year teaching, and I don’t know what I’m doing. They’re more interested in wanting to be superheroes like you.”

Another head tilt from the lingering devil. “I’m no superhero.”

Nathan barked out a laugh. “To my third graders? Yeah, you are. You’re right up there with Spider-Man and Thor. They love you. If I had a nickel for every time I had to remind them they can’t parkour off the playground equipment I would have paid off my student loans by now. And you’re the only one who parkours.”

Daredevil’s frown twitched, like he didn’t know what to do with that information. 

To be fair, Nathan didn’t know either. If there was a way of incorporating parkour with two-digit multiplication he hadn’t found it. “I just don’t know how to get through them. Sometimes they don’t take anything seriously. Sometimes they take the wrong things seriously.”

Another moment of silence where Daredevil still didn’t leave and Nathan suddenly didn’t want him to. His parents had long ago mastered the art of humming in agreement to his rants without actually offering any advice. (They weren’t teachers, and they had never wanted him to become one.) Barbara, bless her heart, had her own freaking life. 

“And if I come in and talked to them?”

Nathan did a double take. Daredevil’s frown was now something else he couldn’t decipher. “Talked to them?” he echoed, waiting for the gotcha or maybe a punch to the face.

Daredevil gestured at nothing in particular. “I don’t know how I didn’t realize there were kids who probably want to do what I do, but I don’t want them getting hurt because of me. They should be focusing on school,” came the surprisingly earnest answer 

Daredevil’s hand twitched, like he was used to fiddling with something. 

“Yeah, they should,” Nathan agreed and really expected that punch to come. Daredevil didn’t come off as prideful, but Nathan did more or less imply he didn’t want his students to pursue a career in crime fighting. 

Instead Daredevil nodded, more to himself than to Nathan. “If you allow me I can try and get them started on the right path, get them started taking school seriously.”

Unlike with the mugger the no didn’t rush to escape his lips. No matter how many times Nathan told them that they definitely needed to learn how to analyze texts and solve math problems to get the job they wanted he knew they weren’t listening. He was just one adult in their lives, one that, honestly, wasn’t exciting enough to be listened to sometimes. 

“You would actually come and talk to them?” flew out of his traitorous mouth. 

Daredevil looked like he would rather be hit by the A line than give a PSA in front of fifteen nine-year-olds. Yet he also looked guilty, mouth turned in the corners and a twitching muscle in his jaw.

“This,” Daredevil said with a hand sweep over his costume, “doesn’t pay my rent. I actually have a degree. Maybe them hearing it from me will change something.”

Nathan blinked, his jaw dropping of its accord. Of course beating people in dark alleys didn’t pay the bills. Knowing it and hearing that the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen had a diploma framed and hanging somewhere were two entirely different things. 

“I don’t think my principal would sign off on a vigilante guest-speaker.” There, see? That was him trying to remain the responsible teacher.

This time Daredevil smirked, a smidge of the guy who pummeled people in dark alleys leaking through. “Sometimes one needs to go above the rules to make something happen.”

Nathan went back to rubbing his face. His hands had stopped shaking by now. “God, I shouldn’t be doing this.” He was a mandated reporter. Would he need to report himself for putting minors in a room with a known vigilante?

“We don’t have to do it,” Daredevil assured him.

“No, no, I think it would actually help. Let me just look at my schedule next week and move some things around. You probably need to call out of work or something, too, right?”

Daredevil shrugged. The gesture seemed unusually strange for someone with that much padded armor. 

“Okay, umm, do you have some way I can contact you or something?”

Daredevil reached for something in his pocket, past those clubs at his holster, and threw something that Nathan just managed to catch. A black flip phone. A burner phone, his mind supplied.

“Put your number there. Just use your initials.”

Nathan flipped it open and opened the contact list. There were a handful of entries, all of them filed under two letters. There was an F.N, a C.T, a K.P. Curiosity flared hot and insistent, but he obediently made a new entry for N.G.

“I’m, uhh, Nathan,” he said when he handed back the phone. “Nathan Greene.”

“Nice to meet you, Nathan.” They didn’t shake hands, but Daredevil inclined his head. “I’ll send you a text so you have my number. Can you get home from here? I’m about to call the police if you want to wait for them.”

Right. The police. They still had a mugger unconscious in the alley. 

“I got it. It’s not far. Umm, thanks.”

Nathan gestured to the path forward with his head, offered a hand up as a goodbye, and began walking when Daredevil said nothing more. By the time he was entering his apartment building his phone buzzed with a new text. 

DD , the unknown number wrote. 

Nathan shut his phone and imagined his sweet, sweet couch waiting for him.

He wasn’t lying when he said they had tests next week. The unit five test was technically supposed to be on Friday, but Nathan had to push it back because he still had half the class unable to do two-digit multiplication without using an entire sheet of scrap paper to do an array. 

Then there was that Science test on the water cycle.

And the kids were supposed to be finishing their final drafts of their narrative pieces this week. 

Still Nathan planted his elbows on his messy dinner table and pulled up the DD contact on his phone with his lesson plans only halfway done. 

(His laptop had survived the impromptu impact with the alley ground because it was an outdated hunk of plastic the district refused to replace.)

Nathan’s thumbs hovered over the keyboard. He didn’t even let the kids play tag on the asphalt basketball court in case they tripped and skinned their knees. In what world was inviting a violent vigilante to speak to them a sane decision?

But Daredevil had saved him and actually stuck around to hear about how his teaching career was effectively going down the drain. He could have knocked him unconscious or choked him to death at any point in his babbling. Tossed him in a dumpster and go about his night.

Nathan exited out of the screen and brought up the chat log he had going on with Barbara. Her last message to him— a reminder that the assembly had been pushed back by half an hour— bore into his eyes. 

Would Barbara rat him out if he told her? Would she actually approve? Barbara wasn’t as by the books as other teachers in the building. Maybe she had a “vigilante guest speaker” lesson plan template stored somewhere in her drive. 

Nathan considered and ultimately shut down the idea— and the chat log with Barbara. This was a once in a life opportunity. He couldn’t mess this up.

Can you do Monday at 11:10?  he texted DD. 

That would be the Science block before Music. They weren’t ahead in Science, but he would rather push the review back than the Math test he was already late with. 

Nathan got a response some time later, and he had to reign in the urge to hurl his phone at his sofa. After a deep breath, he swiped past his lock screen and read, Yes that is fine. Where is your classroom located?

Heart lodged somewhere near his Adam’s apple Nathan responded, Room number is 315, on the second floor. Reminding himself that this was Daredevil and they weren’t doing this by the books, he added, Classroom window faces towards the autoshop . The window has a stuck on Santa on it. 

Good thing he hadn’t gotten around to taking that off. 

I will be there, was the immediate reply. 

Nathan’s whole body sagged. There. It was done. 

He held himself from breaking it off the rest of Saturday and Sunday through sheer will alone. Lessons plans were finished with only a very basic blurb about reviewing the water cycle in the Science section for Monday. Nathan intentionally made it sound as dry as he could, just a paper-based review they would go over in class, to avoid drawing Kim’s attention. The last thing he needed was an unannounced walkthrough when Daredevil was corrupting the minds of the youth. 

Monday came without fanfare. No one was absent. Nathan pulled out his laptop, set it on the table, and glanced at the window beside him. Santa smiled back at him in all of his transparent glory.

Daredevil hadn’t canceled on him. Nathan brought up the chat log just to double check they were still on— and that he hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing. 

“Morning.”

Nathan jerked, the phone slipping from his grip. 

Barbara paused at the doorway. She was back again in her jeans and a loose-fitting blouse. “You okay?”

Nathan scooped up his phone. Who knew if Barbara could see it from ten feet away, but he wasn’t risking it. 

“Yeah, just uhh, didn’t get much sleep.”

Barbara hummed in camaraderie. “I was going to print those science tests for tomorrow. Do you want me to print a class set for you?”

Nathan put his phone face down on his desk. “Sure, that would be great.”

Barbara smiled back. “You’re reviewing today, right?”

Act natural. Act natural.

“Yeah, but they’ll probably need another review tomorrow. You know they’re not used to taking science tests, not with the whole switching with social studies every six weeks thing.”

What kind of answer was that? Of course she knew that. She’d been teaching at the school for ten years now. 

Luckily Barbara didn’t give any indication that she thought there was anything amiss. “Yeah, if they need a second day of review, it’s fine. No worries if you start the new social studies unit a day later.”

She bid him farewell, and this time he returned her wave. A bit jittery but it was a wave. 

Their morning meeting consisted of a multiplication game where they went around, counting one by one and clapping on the multiples of whatever multiplication table they'd picked beforehand. 

“That was great, guys!” he told them when they managed to somehow reach ninety-nine on the table of three. 

“I ate my breakfast today,” Larin declared proudly.

“I had cereal!” George added. Others piped up with their breakfast choices and how it was, undoubtedly, the reason they succeeded. 

Nathan smiled along, then snuck a glance at the window. 

At 10:15am they delved into Writing. Immediately the grumbles began from those that insisted they were finished with their final drafts and wanted to start a new narrative piece. They dragged their feet to fix the mistakes when Nathan pointed them out.

Hayden almost had a meltdown when he couldn’t find the word “explosion” in the dictionary. He’d gone from being totally apathetic about his writing to being paranoid his book was going to be filled with mistakes others would see during their publishing party at the end of the unit. 

“Hey, you’re good,” Nathan said, coming over to the desk before the dictionary was shoved off to the floor. “Let’s start with the letter E and find it together.”

At least five minutes were spent with Hayden and his quest to spell the word “explosion” correctly. Another seven were spent with Drake and making sure he colored all of his illustrations without ruining the text. Ten was enough to help both George and Michelle finish the last pages of their rough drafts.

It didn’t take long for Justin to annoy someone. This time it was Marianne and Isabel, who were squirming away from the boy and the aggressive way he held out his writing. 

“Justin, we don’t want to read your book,” Isabel was saying.

“Yeah, Justin, no one wants to read your book!” Willow put in her two cents from the other side of the room. 

Here was another opportunity to establish natural consequences. Justin was bothering others and not letting them do their work, then his consequence would be to stay at his desk and not be allowed to choose his spot.

It didn’t matter that Justin would forget his lesson by the time lunch rolled around. 

He survived his very first mugging and talked to Daredevil without freaking out too much. This should be simple.

“Justin,” he called out. 

Justin visibly flinched, lowering his booklet. “I just wanted to show them my book.”

At the carpet, he heard the haphazard scrawl of Drake going wild with the markers. By the bookshelf, Michelle took her time drawing her pages when she had a dozen or so spelling mistakes to fix.

But Nathan focused on Justin and the redirection he needed right now.

“If you continue bothering the other students and not allowing them to work on their writing you’re going to have to stay at your desk until the end of writing time.”

Justin’s lip quivered. Every time he cried it became a different song and dance. Sometimes it was quiet. Sometimes it was loud enough for Barbara to peek her head in.

“But I just wanted them to read my story. It’s about how my mom bought me a Captain America costume for Halloween.”

Nathan bit down on saying that everybody and the class next door knew what his narrative story was about. “This is your warning, Justin.”

Justin sighed and went back to the cushion he had set up next to the cubbies. Drake moved on to defacing his illustrations with more markers. Michelle was now adding individual eyelashes to hers. Somehow Aaron convinced Hayden he needed to emphasize every pencil stroke with an explosion sound effect. 

Nathan continued running around until his phone buzzed. He whipped it out, automatically expecting Barbara’s name to pop up, only to see DD and the I’ll be there in five text that accompanied it. 

Okay, he could do this.

Nathan double checked the classroom was closed and locked, then announced to the class, “Clean up, everyone, and let’s meet at the carpet. The faster we clean up the faster I’ll tell you guys about a little surprise I have for you.”

That got everybody’s attention. Heads swiveled, but his raised eyebrows told them his lips would stay sealed until their writing folders were put away and they were back in their carpet spots. George nearly tripped on his way to gather his papers from where he left them on his desk. Drake and Aaron were showing an incredible amount of teamwork as they gathered up the markers without breaking any more.

It was a flurry of controlled chaos, and Nathan glanced at the window again and again until everybody had taken off their shoes and sat crisscrossed apple sauce at the carpet. There was a cushion backed in a corner, but Nathan ignored it in favor of sitting in the chair at the front of the class.

“What’s the surprise?” Justin was the first to ask. Normally his outburst would get the stink eye from the rest of the class, but this time everybody nodded along with wide, hopeful eyes. 

Nathan rubbed his suddenly clammy hands along his knees. No backing out.

“So this is a special surprise, but it’s also a very serious surprise.” He dropped his voice into the tone he normally reserved for the Come to Jesus talks they had when he was severely disappointed in their behavior with a substitute. 

The effect was instantaneous. Most of the girls sucked in a breath. The boys squirmed until they were ramrod straight in their spots. No one interrupted.

“We’re going to have a guest speaker,” he told them in the same low voice. “But you cannot tell anyone that we had a guest speaker, and you cannot tell anyone who the guest speaker is. You can’t tell your parents, your siblings, or the friends you have in other classes.”

Carson raised his hand, and Nathan nodded for him to speak. “Can we tell our cousins?”

Nathan sighed and let it show to punctuate that this was no joking matter. He squared his shoulders and hardened his voice into what Barbara used, the same tone he used to think was too harsh. Now, though, he couldn’t afford to tip toe around. “Guys, when I say you cannot tell anyone I mean if that person is not in this room right now, listening to what I’m saying, you cannot say anything. Our guest speaker is doing us a very special favor by coming here today to talk to us about the importance of school, and if anybody else knows he was here someone could hurt him.”

The kids glanced at each other, muttering who it could be and why they couldn’t tell anyone. Harried glances met the classroom door. So enraptured they were that Nathan was the only one who noticed the movement by the window. 

“I want you guys to brainstorm with your shoulder partner some questions we could ask our guest speaker. I’m going to get my computer.”

No one jumped to get it for him. Nathan allowed himself to grin.

He rounded the carpet, slid behind his desk, and pushed the blinds aside.

There was Daredevil, crouched on the ledge like it was a suburban porch step. He was dressed in the original back outfit the papers had reported him in, and Nathan wasn’t sure if it was because it was less scary than the devil costume or people were less likely to assume it was Daredevil out in broad daylight. 

Nathan eased the window open. He almost had a heart attack when Daredevil swayed, thinking he had accidentally pushed him to his death, but the vigilante simply adjusted his weight to slip one foot over the sill, then the other. Daredevil dropped to the floor on silent feet.

Among the hand-painted turkeys taped against the wall the Devil of Hells’ Kitchen didn’t look that intimidating. The lack of armor showed Nathan well enough that the dude could kill him with a snap of his neck, but other than that he looked like any other guy off the street. (Had he driven here? Taken a taxi?) Daredevil tilted his head this way and that, taking in the room with a pensive frown on the visible half of his face. 

Nathan was struck by the realization that Daredevil must have attended a classroom much like this one when he was a kid. Must have written some paragraph about what he was thankful for or what was his favorite book. 

Had he been like Justin and terrorized half the class whenever he wanted to announce what he was working on?

Or had he been more like quiet Henry, who minded his own business and only spoke up when he needed help?

“Stay here,” Nathan mouthed and rushed back to the front. Eyes snapped to him. There was no mention that he had not gotten his laptop. “Okay, guys, let’s remember how we behave when we have a guest. Now, remember to keep your voices down because no one can know we have a guest speaker.” Nathan spared his noisiest boys a significant glance.

They nodded.

Nathan braced himself.

“Okay, you can turn around and meet our guest.”

Most stopped turning around midway because they froze the moment they spotted Daredevil lingering by Nathan’s desk. There were gasps, but Nathan couldn’t tell from whom.

Daredevil offered a hesitant wave. “Hello, everyone.”

That was not the gargling nails voice Daredevil had used Friday night. It was actually normal, still deep but not out of place with the lean man currently picking at his gloves. 

“My name’s Daredevil.” No one refuted that claim; Carson seemed ready to throw fists at anybody who did. “I’m here because your teacher told me that not everybody has been on their best behavior, and they need someone to talk to them about why school is important.”

Everybody glanced at each other. Nathan scooted his chair to keep the kids’ faces in sight and leaned forward in his chair. If anybody burst into tears he would take care of it. 

But his students were brave and incredibly self-aware. Those with clean consciences looked around as everybody else tried to melt into the carpet out of embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Daredevil!” Justin slapped a hand over his mouth when Nathan shot him a look to use his inside voice. 

“I’m sorry, too,” Carson added just as sincerely. 

Daredevil regarded them with a pensive tilt of his head. “You shouldn’t apologize to me. Your teacher is the one who is spending his time teaching and creating all of the activities you do in the classroom.”

Before he could say anything Nathan was bombarded by apologies. They ranged from sorry for not paying attention in math to sorry for putting the book in the wrong basket with some lunch time confessions sprinkled in there. He held out his hand to stem the flow. “Thank you, everyone. Remember that we want to show how hard we can work and not just say it. After Music we have Math, and that’s the perfect time for you to show me how hard you can work.”

George’s hand shot up, clipping Isabel’s shoulder. George wasn’t looking at Nathan, though, but at their guest, who looked wildly out of place among the small chairs and colorful posters on the wall. Nathan nodded to Daredevil. “You can call on them if you want.”

“My name’s George,” George added helpfully with his hand still raised. 

Daredevil closed the gap between him and the kids with careful steps of his combat boots. He held himself steady with the ease of someone used to walking into a dangerous situation. Was that a vigilante thing or something from whatever he did during the daytime? 

Still, it was definitely not something to do with kids because he stumbled on, “Uhh, what’s your question, George?”

George’s smile erupted on his face. He shifted until he was on his knees. Those behind him immediately grasped at his shoulders to sit him back on his bottom, as per carpet rules, but the boy was unshakable. “It’s not a question. I just wanted to say that I want to be just like you when I grow up.”

Most of the boys nodded while Willow and Isabel traded wide smiles that told of things that would require at least one set of rules being broken. Nathan resisted the urge to facepalm, but it was a near thing. 

This is what he feared. It was one thing to admire a hero— or vigilante— from afar. It was another to have them within hugging range and absolutely, positively real. 

Daredevil stood there with a pensive frown, then he awkwardly gestured at the carpet. “Is it okay if I…?”

Nathan blinked, then motioned him forward. If the devil wanted to go into the lion’s den he was more than welcomed. 

Daredevil began to lower himself down when Michelle let out the loudest gasp yet and told him in a whisper, “You have to take off your shoes before you get on the carpet!”

There were scandalized glares sent her way, but Daredevil nodded as Michelle bristled in defense. He solemnly said, “If it’s a classroom rule it’s a classroom rule.”

And the man that Nathan had seen lay a mugger out with a punch unlaced his boots and sat cross legged among fifteen kids. There was a shifting of bodies and limbs to let their newest friend take his place. 

Now Nathan had Daredevil sitting on a cartoon caricature of the solar system. 

How was this his life?

“Mr. Daredevil, your socks are fluffy,” Marianne commented.

Nathan dared to look. Yes, they were fluffy, something like what his aunt would buy him at Target for Christmas. 

“I like them,” Daredevil answered as though that answered everything. Then it was his turn to compose himself, taking in a large breath that had the added effect of drawing in the kids like puppets on strings. “You kids know I only go out at night, right?” He got a wave of nods, so he continued. “During the day I have a regular job like your teacher here. I had to graduate high school and go to college to get my job. School is very important, and that’s why I can help people during the day, too.”

Hayden’s hand lifted shyly, only reaching his chest. Daredevil motioned for him to speak. “Are you a teacher, too?”

Daredevil chuckled. Without whatever voice he put on for the muggers and burglars it sounded nice, at ease now that the shock of being ogled by more than a dozen kids was wearing off. “No, that’s too hard. Being a teacher takes a special person.”

“But we shouldn’t guess correctly because you have a secret identity,” Hayden added. That was probably the most words he had spoken in class without being prompted. 

“Yes, I can’t say too much,” Daredevil agreed easily.

Nathan snuck a glance at his phone for the time. Amazingly the impromptu meeting was only fifteen minutes in. He tried to make eye contact with Daredevil and gauge whether he could stay until the end of the period, but he either didn’t see him or was too engrossed in Drake’s ogling of the batons in his holster.

“Class, remember when I asked you to brainstorm some questions we could ask our guest speaker? If we all raise our hands and wait our turn we can probably get everybody to ask a question before we head to Music.”

So began the oddest Q&A he had ever witnessed. Daredevil held himself straight with the air of someone at the witness stand:

“Did you make your costume yourself?”

(Daredevil patted his sleeve, like he was reminding himself which suit he put on that morning. “No, I bought it online.”)

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

(“No, but I have a best friend,” and wow, Nathan wondered what kind of person ended up being the best friend of a vigilante.)

“When you get hurt do you go to the doctor’s?”

(A pause, then the most blatant lie Nathan had ever heard. “Yes. You should always go to the doctor’s when you get hurt.” At least no one else seemed to notice.)

“What’s your favorite color?”

(“Red,” and there was a small smirk that made a lot of them chuckle.)

“Will you read us a book?”

Of course it was Ariel who asked. Lover of books and owner of the most earnest face. The rest of the hands dropped and were replaced with the most excited expressions Nathan had seen since their Christmas party turned into a Netflix marathon. 

Daredevil looked mildly panicked. “You want me to read a book?”

“All of our guest speakers read a book when they come to visit,” she answered so matter-of-factly that Nathan was surprised she wasn’t reading it from a paper. 

Daredevil tensed, fingers curling in his lap. It wasn’t a refusal. Daredevil didn’t get up to hurl himself through the Santa-covered window. Nathan stood up to draw some of the attention on himself. “We have a book we were going to read if you want to read that one.”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to read to us, Mr. Daredevil,” Henry said, his only words thus far. They did their job, though, because guilt swarmed over Daredevil’s face like running ink.

“It’s not that I don’t want to read, it’s just…” He glanced at his socked feet. Considering or making a plan of escape? Daredevil lifted his head and shrugged, going for casual and missing by a mile. “I have a disability that makes it hard to read.”

As the teenagers have taken to saying, the class was shook. George fell back on his bottom and almost hit Drake and Carson behind him. Willow’s eyes widened, mouthing something Nathan couldn’t hear. Ariel looked abashed that she had even brought the subject up. She had never insulted anybody, indirectly or otherwise.  

“But you’re Daredevil!” Larin exclaimed. 

"Yeah, you can do anything!" Aaron put in.

He’d only known Daredevil for two days, give or take, but the man’s face was surprisingly expressive for someone who was supposed to guard a secret identity. (Or maybe Nathan had just gotten used to spotting emotional distress when he was on the clock.) 

The corners of Daredevil’s smile were turned downwards, betraying just how much the implication that someone like him couldn’t have a disability stung. He picked at the seam running along his black cargo pants in what could have been a nervous habit. 

“Anybody can have a disability,” the man said carefully and with an astounding amount of patience for someone who wasn’t used to dealing with kids. 

“And just because someone has a disability it doesn’t mean they can’t do something,” Nathan jumped in. An oversimplification. No one called him out on it.

“We can help you read the book,” Marianne pointed out. “Mr. Greene helps us read all the time when we do small groups with him.”

“We have reading partners.” Michelle waved at their chart by the water bottle station. “We can be your reading partners.”

His class had done what no criminal in Hell’s Kitchen had been able to do: trap Daredevil. The vigilante, whether he liked it or not, was held down by those insisting eyes and hopeful faces. 

“It wouldn’t disrupt your class schedule?” Daredevil asked Nathan with a head tilt his way. 

“We have a good fifteen minutes left,” he announced in lieu of answering. 

“Please?” at least two voices chorused. 

Daredevil opened his mouth, closed it, then said with a hint of a smile, “Sure.”

“Quietly,” Nathan whispered-yelled at them as the first cheers erupted, tone firmer than he usually made it. They obediently lowered the volume. Drake fidgeted, mouth turning in that tell-tale way it did right before a whine. Nathan shook his head once to stop it.

Now was not the time. 

Nathan dared to leave Daredevil alone for a minute to get the picture book he’d checked out of the library but hadn’t had time to read for them. Grumpy Monkey , it was called, and featured the grumpiest monkey he’d ever seen against a glaring, red background. The illustrations were quite charming, from what he saw. Nothing too childish. 

He passed it over to Daredevil, offering him the chair to sit in so that everybody could see. “Like this,” Nathan instructed, showing him how to hold the book by the bottom of the spine. 

“How did I end up doing this again?” Daredevil asked him in a whisper. Half of his attention stayed with the kids on the carpet, or so Nathan guessed by the way his head was tilted.

“You caved to a bunch of nine-year-olds,” he replied with barely contained mirth. “It might be better without the gloves,” Nathan added. 

Daredevil hummed, then unstrapped them to place them next to his boots. His knuckles were scarred. Fingers rubbed against the smooth book jacket until they found the embossed title, where they lingered. Daredevil held the book out the way Nathan had shown him.

“This book is called Grumpy Monkey,” he said with a clear, strong voice.

The excitement from the kids was rolling off of them in waves. Many of them were wiggling hard enough to bump shoulders with their neighbors. Nathan jumped in, telling them each person would read a page (and its dialogue). They would go in the order they used to line up. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. 

“If you cannot follow the instructions you cannot participate in this activity,” was his first and last warning. 

Nathan’s voice didn’t waver. When he motioned to the chair designed for taking a break— well out of the way of the carpet and their guest speaker— there was a visual shifting of straightened backs. 

Isabel started first, jovially reading about Jim Panzee and how grumpy he felt on such a fine day in the jungle. (“Next page,” she announced when Daredevil didn’t turn the page.)

Aaron continued on the next page, giving Jim’s gorilla friend a grandiose voice; so he had listened to Nathan during his “reading with expression” mini-lesson. (He was more than happy to tell the Daredevil when it was time to turn the page.)

On and on his class continued, with Nathan on crowd control. In the end, kids were kids. They wiggled. They bumped and shoved when it was their turn to read. Nathan slipped in and out with his reminders, always low enough to be discreet but serious enough for his words to carry weight.

And they listened. To him. Not Barbara with her uncanny ability to reign in every classroom she walked into. Not Daredevil and his terrifying reputation.

To him. 

Henry read the last page with a surprising amount of expression. Daredevil hesitated before closing the book. “The end,” he told them.

Nathan blinked and realized very belatedly that Daredevil hadn’t read a single page. 

He checked his phone and jumped to his feet. They weren’t late, but it was a close thing. “Okay, class, we need to head to Music. Let’s give our guest speaker a silent applause.”

All of them attempted to snap their fingers. Even Hayden, notorious for his no-can-do attitude, glanced around the nearest students to mimic them. Daredevil obviously didn’t know how to react. He ran his bare fingers over the spine of the book as Nathan lined them up in front of the door. A few snuck in hugs on the way, which the man accepted like he was being handed something fragile and precious. 

“I’m sorry for asking you to read,” Ariel told him, eyes shiny and lowered to her shoes.

Daredevil patted her arm once. “It’s okay. Like you said, all guest speakers do read alouds.”

When George came in for his hug Daredevil nodded at him, mouth drawn in a serious line. “School comes first, got it? My teachers helped me, and your teacher wants to help you.”

George nodded so vehemently Nathan feared he would get whiplash. 

Drake lingered in the sidelines until he, too, gave a quick hug. He mumbled something that made Daredevil glow.

“Not a word,” Nathan reminded them before they left. 

They cut it close, but Nathan successfully herded them into the Music room. He kept his gaze down, avoiding any staff members who would want an impromptu chat in his room. When he came back he was surprised to see Daredevil still hanging about by the reading corner, well out of eyesight if anybody happened to glance through the door’s window. Grumpy Monkey was propped up on the shelf as his fingers flitted from one basket to the other, head canted in interest. Despite the boots back in place he moved about with a silent grace.

“You didn’t have to stay,” Nathan told him after making sure the door was locked. 

Daredevil retracted his hand. “It would have been rude of me to just up and leave.”

Nathan dawdled before coming closer. With only the two of them he was back in that awkward headspace from Friday evening. “Thanks again for doing this,” he managed to say. 

Daredevil turned to face him. “It wasn’t a problem. You have a good class. They’re lucky to have a teacher that cares so much about them.”

Again that curiosity bubbled in him, hot and insistent. (What kind of teachers did someone like Daredevil have?) But he figured knowing that Daredevil liked to wear fuzzy socks when he was out busting drug rings was enough of a treat.

They were back to Daredevil sticking around and Nathan being glad he did. This time it seemed like it was Daredevil who wanted to say more but was afraid to do so. 

“It was nice of you to let them read the whole book,” Nathan probed.

Daredevil stiffened, jaw tightening like he was preparing himself for another back alley brawl. “I wasn’t lying about having a disability.”

Nathan shook his head. “You don’t seem like someone who would lie about something like that, secret identity or not.”

Daredevil didn’t smile, per say, but he did lose the defensive stiffness around his shoulders and jaw.

“I should get going,” he said, already strapping his gloves back on. “I’m something of my own boss, but I still have work to get back to.”

“Let me walk you out,” Nathan found himself saying with a sweep of his arm.

Daredevil barked out a laugh but followed him to the window behind his desk. In the moment it took Nathan to step back Daredevil already had the window open and one foot braced against the rather narrow ledge. The tassels of the black mask flicked in the passing breeze. 

“You have a good handle on your students,” Daredevil told him. “You were firm with them when it was about making sure no one knew I was here. They listened to you because they knew you were being serious about it.”

“Guess I just need to do that all the time.” It didn’t sound as daunting as it did last week. 

A chuckle. “See? You got this.”

Daredevil slipped the rest of his body out the window. Nathan moved to give him space, when another thought collided. “Hey, umm…” Nathan braced himself when Daredevil paused, muscles coiled to either leap or climb. “You don’t have to answer or anything, but I’m always looking to make the books in my classroom as accessible as I can to all students. Any types of books you think I should add?”

For a while it certainly seemed like Daredevil wasn’t going to answer. He had no reason to, of course. He kept his identity a secret for a reason. 

Even though Nathan couldn’t see his eyes past the black mask he had the distinct notion he was being dissected, pulled apart piece by piece for any signs of an ulterior motive. Nathan went for a disarming smile, though he knew it wasn’t his face that was being viewed. Once again, Daredevil didn’t seem to make eye contact. 

“I’m not sure how funding for the public school system works,” Daredevil said with carefully measured words, “but I noticed a distinct lack of books in braille.”

Silence stretched. Somewhere across the hall a video droned on. Nathan wasn’t sure who was waiting for what. So he simply said, with as much sincerity as he could weave into his words, “I’ll make a note of it.”

That’s when Daredevil left, twisting his torso to climb up the side of the school building towards the rooftop. It was a long time after that Nathan closed the window.

When Barbara hesitated at the door during their Math block, one eyebrow raised in the universal you okay in there? Nathan’s nod was confident.

She left with a quick smile. His class lifted their heads, knowing twinkles in their eyes. 

Nathan mimed zipping his mouth shut.

They giggled and continued with their test.