Work Text:
Grace walked around the classroom as the kids made their way through the worksheet.
The worksheet wasn’t a test, so the kids were allowed to talk amongst themselves as they worked. They were doing a pretty good job of keeping the noise level at a gentle hum. Grace had only needed to remind them to keep the volume down once so far today which, honestly, that was great. Top marks. Gold stars all around. These kids were achieving something that Grace himself and his peers at school had never really been able to do; they’d always ended up getting louder and louder until their teachers snapped and demanded they finish their work in silence.
Grace had hated being made to work in silence as a kid. Holding himself still and silent had been physically painful, and it had made it even more of a struggle for him to focus on the task in front of him. It still did, to be frank, but it wasn’t a situation he found himself in all that often anymore. He was all grown up, which meant had the freedom to accommodate himself as required. No more sitting still and doing math problems in enforced silence. Hooray!
Being a teacher himself, he was more understanding of the teachers he’d had in the past who’d imposed silence on their classrooms. They’d had their reasons. Some of those reasons had even been good ones. But Grace hated the thought of doing something to his kids that he’d chafed so hard against back when he’d been a kid himself, so he refused to do it unless it was actually genuinely necessary.
His kids seemed to understand this, and they rarely pushed him on it. The single reminder he’d given them closer to the beginning of class was likely to be all they’d need today.
They were a good bunch, this lot.
Towards the end of the lesson Grace would get everybody’s attention and they’d all go through the worksheet together. The worksheet was made up of exercises asking the kids to match the correct chemical symbols to their respective elements and chemical compounds, so Grace didn’t think it would take too long to mark answers and go through anything that had confused anyone. If they were lucky they might even have time left at the end for a couple of rounds with the beanbag before the bell sent the kids on their way.
For now, Grace kept moving around the classroom, checking in with people as he passed them, making sure they all knew that he was available if they had questions or needed help with anything.
An unusual sight caught Grace’s eye.
Trang wasn’t talking to anybody. He wasn’t quietly getting on with the worksheet, either, which would’ve still been odd for Trang but not necessarily worth pausing over. Instead Trang was hunched over his desk with his head resting on his arms, his slightly overlong hair falling around him so his face wasn’t visible.
Trang was usually full of energy. Talkative. Eager to participate in class discussions to the point that he sometimes needed a reminder to wait to be called on before shouting something out, and keeping up a constant level of chatter about things both related and unrelated to the lesson’s topic during the rest of class. A bit of a class clown, but the sort that meant his peers actually liked him rather than just put up with him. Science and math didn’t come as naturally to him as it came to some of the other kids Grace taught, but he more than made up for it through enthusiasm and effort.
Some of the other teachers had mentioned to Grace from time to time that they thought Trang and other kids like him were tricky to manage. That they were disruptive. Grace couldn’t disagree more. Kids like Trang needed a little more attention, sure, but that wasn’t a bad thing. Nurturing these kids’ curiosity and guiding them towards being the best versions of themselves was the whole point of being a teacher in the first place.
Grace did not look at Trang and see a miniature Ryland Grace. They were very different people, and little Grace would’ve been overwhelmed by Trang even with his own inability to be quiet and sit still. Grace would be lying if he said there weren’t some similarities, though, and he couldn’t help but feel a fondness for Trang because of it.
He had reasons to feel fond of every single kid he’d ever taught.
Point was, Trang was a good kid. A good kid who was currently acting noticeably unlike himself.
The boy sitting next to Trang, Kevin, glanced at Trang, then looked towards Grace with his brows pinched in concern. Grace tilted his head in a silent question. Kevin shrugged.
“Is he asleep?” Grace mouthed.
Kevin shrugged again, and shook his head.
Come to think of it, Trang hadn’t said much during the class discussion earlier.
There had been days when Trang had walked into the classroom with a cheerful declaration that he’d stayed up late the night before and so was half asleep by the time fifth-period science with Mr Grace had rolled around, but even then he’d follow up by still trying to join in where he could. Today had had no such announcement and he’d spent the beginning portion of the lesson sitting quietly.
Grace approached Trang’s desk and crouched beside him.
“Hey buddy,” he said, voice gentle. If Trang was asleep then Grace would prefer it if he stayed that way. Kids didn’t fall asleep during the day unless they really needed the rest, and if Trang was asleep then that was even more true. He’d have to wake him up when the lesson came to an end, but until then Grace was more than happy for him to sleep as much as he needed.
Turned out he wasn’t asleep after all. Trang pressed his hands onto the desk and pushed himself upright.
“Sorry, sir,” he mumbled, not looking in Grace’s direction.
“No need to be sorry,” said Grace. “Are you alright?”
“I’m okay,” he said. He picked up a pen and held it in a closed fist. He pressed the tip against the top of his worksheet, then lifted it to show a single dot of ink. It was the only mark he’d made on the worksheet so far.
Trang was very clearly not okay.
The thing with kids, especially twelve to thirteen year olds who were starting to think they weren’t really kids anymore even though they definitely still were, was that they never responded well to adults demanding they talk about what was bothering them. Grace knew this firsthand both from having been a teacher for a few years and also from having once been a child himself. He hadn’t been the happiest of kids, and maybe he’d have been more willing to ask for help if the adults around him hadn’t reacted so badly whenever they’d actually noticed something was off. Too much demanding he explain himself and nowhere near enough acting on what they should’ve been able to put together from his halting responses.
Whatever was going on with Trang today, Grace wasn’t going to push. He wasn’t ignoring the situation; he was going to check with his colleagues to see if anyone else had noticed anything amiss with Trang today, and he was going to make a note of what was going on just like he always did when there were any causes for concern so there’d be a written record just in case this did turn out to be indicative of anything serious. If Trang didn’t perk up he’d probably ask him to hang back after the bell and check in with him once the rest of their potential audience was gone. He just wasn’t going to force Trang to explain himself in front of the whole class, because that would be unkind and counterproductive.
Moments like this always made Grace wonder what on Earth had been going through the minds of some of the teachers he’d had as a kid. Balancing looking out for his kids with treating them like they were their own people with their own right to privacy was really not that hard.
“Okay, then,” said Grace. “Let me know if you need anything.” He rapped his knuckles once against Trang’s desk before standing and giving him some space.
Grace kept an eye on Trang as he continued his rounds around the room. Trang didn’t put his head back down on the table, but he didn’t respond to any of Kevin’s attempts to include him in their table’s conversation either. His pen didn’t leave his hand, but it didn’t move to make any marks on the paper. He just sat and stared off into the distance.
Ten or so minutes went by.
Grace was chatting to Rekha about the differences between carbon dioxide and carbon monoxide when a voice rang out across the classroom.
“Sir?”
Grace gave Rekha an apologetic smile, crossed over to Trang, and crouched by his desk once more.
“I don’t feel well.”
It was by far the simplest explanation for how Trang had been acting today, and something of a relief. Not that Trang was unwell, Grace hated the thought of any of his kids suffering for any reason, but if this was because Trang was sick then it meant there probably wasn’t anything more serious going on.
“Do you need to go to the office?” Grace asked.
Trang nodded and stood.
Grace stood alongside him and turned to look over the rest of the class, searching for someone who’d either finished or come close enough to finishing their worksheet that they wouldn’t be too badly disrupted by asking them to walk Trang to the office. He was just about to ask Abby when he heard a gagging sound beside him.
It was the only warning he got, and it wasn’t enough.
Trang doubled over as chunky orange liquid pushed its way out of his mouth. He’d tried to angle himself away from other people, and he’d mostly been successful. None of it landed on Kevin or the other kids sitting nearby.
A lot of it landed on Grace.
Chairs scraped across the floor as kids flung themselves out of range. Various gasps and yelps filled the room, along with an “Oh fuck!” from Kevin that Grace was going to let slide once and only once. Grace’s own instinct to jump away from the vomit died before it could be acted on, because what would be the point? By the time he’d realised what was happening it was already too late. It was all over his jacket and his shirt and his jeans and, gosh, even his lanyard. He was gonna need a new lanyard. Shock became acceptance before the other stages of grief had a chance to make themselves known. He could feel the sticky warmth of vomit seeping through the fabric.
He placed one hand on Trang’s back and another on Trang’s shoulder and guided him to one of the sinks that lined the classroom. Trang was, somehow, still going, but at least whatever came out of his mouth now would be able to be washed away with a bit more ease.
Trang’s overlong hair wasn’t quite long enough to get in the way of the vomit coming out of his mouth. Small mercies.
“Hey, Kevin,” said Grace. He had to raise his voice against the panicked chatter of this class, but he kept his tone calm and level, and as he spoke the kids seemed to settle somewhat. “Please could you pass me Trang’s water bottle?”
Kevin did as Grace had asked. Grace rubbed Trang’s back as Trang gagged and spat into the sink.
It had been drilled into Grace during teacher training to never, ever touch a child outside of emergency situations. This had to count as an emergency situation.
When Trang’s gagging and retching finally slowed to a stop, Grace handed him the water.
“Rinse your mouth out first,” he said, “then take small sips.”
Trang did so.
“Listen up, everyone,” said Grace, speaking louder again to address the rest of the room. “I’m going to take Trang to the office, and then I’m going to get myself cleaned up. Abby, please let Ms Vaughn next door know what’s happened and where I’ve gone. The rest of you, please carry on with your worksheets. I probably don’t need to say this, but do not touch the vomit. If I’m not back before the bell goes then I’ll see you all tomorrow.”
With a hand loose on Trang’s elbow, Grace guided Trang out of the classroom and started towards the office. Once he was sure that Trang was walking alongside him under his own steam Grace went to let go of his arm, only for Trang to clutch at Grace’s wrist.
“’M sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I do,” Trang half-sobbed. “I puked all over you.”
“These things happen,” said Grace. “I mean, I’d prefer it if in future you could let the people around you know you’re gonna be sick with a little more time left before it happens, but—“
“Are you mad at me?” Trang cut in.
It took a moment for Grace to process what Trang had just said to him.
“No,” he said, voice firm and allowing for no argument. “Absolutely not. Nobody is mad at you for being sick. I don’t care that you were sick on me, it’s not your fault, and I’m not mad.”
Trang blinked, and gave an almost imperceptible nod, but he didn’t come across like he believed it.
“Hey,” said Grace. He stopped walking, and with Trang still holding on to Grace’s wrist for dear life it meant that Trang had to stop walking too. “Do you want to know something funny?”
“Yeah.”
“One time, in college, I was sick on my best friend.”
Trang’s eyebrows shot up.
“No, really!” said Grace. “We were trying to watch a movie, and I just—“ he mimed vomiting “—all over her. No warning, no chance for her to get away. She was even more covered in it than I am right now. And guess what?”
“What?”
“She still hangs out with me,” said Grace. “She’s my best friend to his day.”
Grace vomiting all over Marissa had been the result of him losing the battle with a hangover that he’d been valiantly fighting against all morning. He hadn’t realised how serious his nausea was until mere seconds before disaster, and by that point it had been too late to stop it. Marissa, angel that she was, had never let him live it down since. Grace didn’t mind, because as far as he was concerned she was a saint for not throwing him out of her apartment that day. Though, Grace had crashed at Marissa’s after their night out because they’d both been avoiding Grace’s roommate who was also Marissa’s ex, so throwing him out that day would’ve been especially mean, even with the justification of an unexpected shower of puke.
That Grace’s vomiting-on-somebody-else incident had happened due to alcohol related reasons did not need spelling out to one of his students, but Trang was a smart kid, and thirteen was plenty old enough to understand the concepts of college and alcohol and the possible consequences that could occur when these things were mixed together. And if Trang went and told all his friends that Mr Grace was sick one time in college after drinking, so what? There wasn’t any photographic evidence for the school board to get upset about, and any rumours could be used to fuel a class dedicated to the science of alcohol and its effects on the human body. It was fine.
Besides, he didn’t think Trang had been sick today for alcohol related reasons. He couldn’t see or smell anything to suggest that this was the result of anything other than a plain old vomiting bug.
The point of sharing this story with Trang, and what he hoped Trang would take away from it, was that being sick on somebody else didn’t have to be the uniquely mortifying experience that it seemed like he was building it up inside his head to be. These things happened! Grace certainly wasn’t going to hold it over Trang or think any less of him for it. Grace had once been in Trang’s position. No harm, no foul.
They resumed walking to the office, and they got there without any further incident. The person at the desk — a woman whose name Grace really should’ve known, but alas, he did not — took one look at them before ushering them into the school’s small medical room while she set about contacting Trang’s parents.
The medical room was a small, sparsely decorated room with just a single old sofa to sit on. Trang sat on the sofa with a bucket clutched to his chest. Grace took a roll of blue roll and began the arduous task of mopping himself up as best he could.
Trang retched.
Grace dropped the blue roll and went to support Trang as he gagged and spat. Very little fresh vomit came up, and thankfully what little did all went into the bucket.
The office lady knocked on the open door to get their attention. “Your father’s on his way, sweetie,” she said. “He says he’ll be about fifteen minutes.”
Trang mumbled his thanks.
The office lady turned to Grace. “I can stay with him, if you’d like to get yourself cleaned up?”
In truth, Grace would’ve liked to stay there and personally see to it that Trang was delivered safely into his father’s arms, but he was still covered in vomit, which was a terrible sensory experience in every single way and one that he wanted to end as soon as possible. He was also capable of taking a hint. He didn’t need to be there anymore, and the other kids in Trang’s class were missing their teacher. At this point he knew it wasn’t likely that he’d be able to get back to them before the lesson officially ended, but he did need to at least try.
He collected the used and unused blue roll. “I hope you feel better soon, Trang.”
He was almost at the door when Trang spoke up. “Mr Grace?”
Grace doubled back and crouched in front of Trang. “What’s up?”
Trang gripped the bucket tight. “Thank you for looking after me.”
Grace smiled, stood, and ruffled Trang’s hair.
“Anytime, kiddo.”