Page 4 of Dagger

The same thing when I was at home.

Nobody was watching me, because nobody knew me. I’d only been in Steel City for a couple months and I didn’t have any friends, just a few teachers I engaged in friendly banter with in the teachers’ lounge. The thing was, I was fresh off a year-long stint teaching third grade in Oregon, and for most of my time there I felt like I was being watched too.

Back then I chalked it up to the fact that it was a small town and people stared at the newcomer. It never came to anything, it was just weird.

Honestly, it was pretty laughable that anyone would want to stalk me. They’d probably off themselves from watching my exciting evenings curled up with a good book and a glass—or three—of wine. I was happy to have a boring life, but I wasn’t as happy about this uneasy feeling that followed me everywhere except inside Steel City Elementary.

School was my sanctuary, the same way it was back when I was in elementary school. And middle school. And even high school. Inside the walls of the learning institution I felt safe. I felt like I belonged. Inside those walls nobody would make fun of me for loving books, for being excited to learn. Or the dirty clothes I wore because Dad was too busy to worry about things like a trip to the laundromat.

I tried to be the teacher that I needed back then for my students, the teacher I eventually found in sixth grade. I was their self-appointed protector even if they didn’t know they needed protection yet.

I felt it again. The weight of a gaze on me. I stopped and looked around the school parking lot, seeing nothing.

“I’m losing it,” I muttered to myself, and laughed, hoping that whoever was watching would be scared off by the crazy woman talking to herself.

With a more genuine smile on my face, I walked into the silent halls of Steel City Elementary. It was a new school day, and despite the rose I found on my windshield last Friday—which was a bit odd—I was looking forward to another day of teaching the future generation.

I straightened my classroom and prepared my lessons for the day, including all the tools the kids would need to learn to the best of their ability. I loved my class, and I loved my students. At this age they were so eager to learn, and more than that, most of them were hungry to share their newly learned facts with anyone who would listen.

At nine they all piled into the classroom and settled into their assigned seats, big smiles on their faces as they tried hard to look more mature than their eight- and nine-year-old selves.

“Good morning, class.”

“Good morning,” a few of the boys shouted as loud as they could.

“Mornin’,” a few more grumbled, clearly still half asleep.

“Good morning, Miss Bronson.” Dani Kane sat at the front of the class with her hands folded neatly on top of the desk. She sat beside the window rather than front and center, and I had a feeling there was a reason for that, one I hoped to learn before the year was over.

“Good morning, Miss Bronson,” Krissy, a mean girl in training, mocked Dani.

“That’s enough, Krissy.” My tone was firmer than usual, but she needed to understand I wouldn’t tolerate that kind of behavior.

“Yes, Miss Bronson,” she grunted under her breath.

We started the day with math, then moved on to English and penmanship. The day moved smoothly, and even with a few disruptions, my smile never faltered. “Okay, kids, it’s time for recess.”

They darted out of the classroom, everyone except Dani, who stayed planted in her seat as if her little behind was glued to it. “Miss Bronson?”

“Yes, Dani?” I smiled at her tentative tone. She was incredibly smart, but so painfully shy when it came to the class at large.

“Do you think Peter’s parents ignored him because they didn’t like him?” Her golden-brown eyes swam with uncertainty and that ever-present worry. She nibbled her bottom lip as she waited for an answer.

“No, honey.” I sat in the desk beside her and scooted until we were face to face. “I think his parents were just busy and tired, and they figured Peter didn’t need as much attention as Fudge.”

“But he did,” she insisted.

“Of course he did, and I can’t wait to hear what you think when you finish the book.”

She flashed a sheepish smile. “Thanks, Miss Bronson. Can I stay here for recess?”

“Of course.”

“Hey, Dani, finally made a friend?” It was Krissy again, and her two little minions.

Dani’s nostrils flared and her hands balled into fists as her face reddened. But just as quickly as her anger bubbled up, she shoved it back down. “Hey, Krissy, did you finally learn to read?”

Krissy narrowed her gaze in Dani’s direction before she marched off in embarrassed silence.

---