The Perfect Holiday

I cringed. “I’m Brett’s teacher,” I said. “My name is June.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Marlene,” she said. “Marlene March.”

I bit my lip. “What can I do for you, Mrs. March?”

“I demand to know why my son has been acting out,” she said sharply. “Why aren’t you taking more of an effort to reign him in? Do you know that he’s barely even speaking to me about school anymore?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not really sure those two problems are relat—“

“Shut up,” Marlene growled. She put both hands on my desk and leaned close, glaring at me with her icy green eyes. “I demand you help him!”

“I’m trying,” I said quickly. “But Brett – your son – has been an incredible disturbance in class, and I can’t spend as much individual time with him as I should.”

“Why not?” Marlene’s voice was high and indignant. “This is supposed to be the best public school in the city!”

“It is,” I said. “But ma’am, I have over thirty students in my class. If one of them keeps acting out, I have to send them to the principal. I can’t just pause the education of twenty-nine other children because one of them is misbehaving!”

“You’re a bad teacher,” Marlene said. “My child is in school to learn, not to get pushed aside just because he’s acting out!”

“And he will learn, as soon as he can behave himself and control his anger,” I said firmly.

“You little bitch,” Marlene spat. “You don’t give two shits about these children!” She crossed her arms over her chest and tossed her red curls. “I should have you fired!”

A stab of cold fear pierced my belly and I shivered.

“Yeah, you don’t like that idea at all, do you,” Marlene growled. “But I think it’s only fair. You’re pushing my son to the side, I push you to the side.”

My lip began to quiver and I couldn’t stop the tears from welling up in my eyes.

“Please, ma’am, I’m doing the best I can with your son,” I said quickly. “I really, really am! I swear!”

“I bet you are,” Marlene said. “You’re weak. You can’t even handle an angry parent! How the hell am I supposed to trust that you’ll handle my son?”

I stood up and glared at her angrily. Hot tears streamed down my face. I’d never felt more humiliated in my life.

“Your son is a child,” I spat. “And children listen to their teachers, unlike you!”

“Oh yeah?” Marlene smirked. “Then explain why you have to keep sending him out of class! My son is a perfect little boy, and you and this goddamned school have been treating him like he’s some kind of delinquent!”

When I opened my mouth to speak, nothing came out. In frustration, I buried my face in my hands and cried.

“You can’t even handle the lightest of criticism,” Marlene spat. “You are not fit to teach my son!”

I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to slap her, to stamp my foot, to throw a fucking fit. But I knew that wouldn’t accomplish anything. I knew that would only make myself look worse, and possibly open myself up to a lawsuit.

“I’ll be in touch,” Marlene said smugly. She turned on her heel and clacked her way out of the room, humming under her breath.

I flopped down in my chair and wiped my face with tissues. Just as I was starting to calm down, the door burst open again and my heart sank.

But this time, it wasn’t Marlene.

It was Thomas March.

He strode towards me, smiling and looking sexy…until he saw my face. Once he realized how distressed I was, he rushed closer.

“June! What the hell happened?”

I sniffed. “Your wife happened,” I said flatly.