Chapter Text
I walked down the halls of Grover Cleveland Middle School, my brown flats clicking against the linoleum floors. The bright red sweater I'd thrown over a button-down that morning suddenly felt too warm as I headed for the science wing, grumbling under my breath about the stupid school district and their stupid rules about stupid core classes being more important than electives.
I found the room I was looking for in the science hallway. The door was open, and before I knocked, my eyes drifted around the room. Student projects covered one wall, a giant DNA model hung from the ceiling, and someone had drawn a cartoon bacterium on the whiteboard with the words Ask Me About Mitosis! written underneath it.
Definitely a science teacher.
I knocked on the door frame.
"Excuse me, you're Dr. Grace, correct?" I asked.
His head whipped around at the sound of my voice. There was a red pen tucked behind one ear and a coffee stain on the sleeve of his dress shirt. He had choppy blond hair and wire glasses, and, annoyingly, I had to admit he was at least a little cute.
"That depends," he said. "Am I in trouble?"
"One of my students is failing your class."
"Yeah, that'll do it..." he winced.
"Emily Foster. She's a soloist in our choir concert in three weeks, and if she's failing a class, the district won't let her perform," I explained. "Is there any way you can boost her grade? She told me she only has one missing assignment."
"That would be seven missing assignments."
"Details."
"Those literally are the details as to why she is failing my class."
I stared at him.
He stared back at me.
Neither of us said anything for a moment before he sighed and opened his laptop. He flipped the screen around so I could see the gradebook.
There, in glaring digital certainty, was Emily Foster's name.
And, unfortunately, seven little zeros.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
I frowned.
"She told me it was one."
"Students say a lot of things."
"She's usually responsible."
"She's twelve."
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"That's a fair point."
"Thank you."
I sighed.
"Look, I'm not asking you to hand her a passing grade."
Dr. Grace raised an eyebrow.
"No?"
"I'm asking if there's a way she can earn one. She needs to pass."
"I agree."
"She can't perform in the spring concert if she's failing."
Dr. Grace leaned back in his chair.
"The spring concert?"
"Yes."
"The one that's apparently important enough for you to storm into my classroom during your planning period?"
"I did not storm," I said, admittedly defensive.
"You absolutely stormed."
"I walked with purpose."
"Ah." He nodded solemnly. "My mistake."
I narrowed my eyes and dropped a folder on his desk containing the music for our concert.
He flipped it open, and when he read the title, he raised an eyebrow.
"A Brief History of Creation?" he asked.
"Yes."
"That's a bold title."
"You think?"
"Well, yeah. Usually when somebody claims they're covering the entire history of existence, I get suspicious," he chuckled.
"Well, for starters, it's not a song. It's a series of pieces by Jonathan Dove about the history of creation," I said. "We're collaborating with the local symphony to perform the entire thing. Emily has a solo, and she has an understudy, but to be quite frank with you, the kid isn't really all that great."
"Yikes..." Dr. Grace said, flipping through the sheet music. "Wait, so it's about science? That's ironic, I must admit."
He smirked.
"Yes," I sighed, rubbing my temples. "That's exactly what I told Emily when she told me. To be fair, I have no clue what half of the stuff they're singing about really means. I keep having to Google stuff when they ask me questions. One of them asked me why birds are apparently dinosaurs now. I still don't have a good answer."
"Because they are."
I blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"Birds are dinosaurs."
"Right... Anyway, the point is, can you help me fix this?"
Dr. Grace pulled his glasses off his face as he laughed, leaving them hanging somehow between his ear and chin.
"I mean, I'd love to help her. But I have to make it fair for everyone else. I'd have to come up with a fair way to bring her grade back up to a seventy. I'll really try to think of something. Actually, if you're worried about explaining the science side of the piece, I'd be happy to help."
Although it wasn't a complete fix, a bit of weight was lifted from my shoulders.
"You'd really do that? Thank you so much. I'm sorry I busted up in here like that. I don't know that we've ever met before. I'm Julia Brody. I'm the choir director."
I extended my hand with a grateful smile.
"I kind of figured," Dr. Grace said with a laugh, shaking my hand. "I'm Dr. Ryland Grace. Isn't your room by the staff lounge?"
"Yes! If you come up with a solution to our predicament, please stop by on your way to refill some more coffee. Or even if you just want to listen to a rehearsal. The kids love it when we have an audience."
"Sounds great. I'll have to drop by."
We exchanged goodbyes, and I exited the classroom.
Looking back on it, I was a little embarrassed by how I had handled that situation, but there was no going back now.