After discreetly watching Cal pull his class together for the first time, Dot returned to her office, waving off Josie’s greeting as she glided past and shut the door. She pulled a recycled milk jug of filtered water out of a low cabinet and filled her electric tea kettle. As she switched it on, the kettle warming light popped on, and she recalled a professor describing the gratifying experience of the light turning on in a student. Wasn’t that why she had gotten into this profession? It had been a long time since she had witnessed such a bright light flicker to life. For a man who professed to dislike working with kids, he sure seemed to slide into the role quite easily.

  When the light turned green, she began digging through her cabinet for a tea bag. She groaned to find her last box of Earl Gray empty. It wasn’t like her to leave an empty box in a cabinet. It was this year. This job. This town. It was breaking down her protective strategy of order.

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  “Josie?” she called out.

  Josie knocked quietly and then let herself in. “Ms. Frazier? Do you need something?”

  “Of course I need something, Josie. Do you have any tea bags? I’m all out,” she said as she searched other cabinets, drawers, and shelves.

  With practiced ease, Josie brushed off Dot's small abuse.

  “No, ma’am, I only drink coffee. You know, they say that people who drink—”

  “I don’t have time for your jibber-jabber. Maybe the teacher’s lounge has some.”

  Jutting her eyes briefly down, Josie smiled and said, “Well, if there’s nothing else, Ms. Frazier…”

  In her anxiety, she pushed past Josie without responding or considering how rude her actions were. She took a brisk pace, her heels clacking hard on the highly polished laminate hallway floor. Not one to fraternize with her staff, she generally avoided the teacher’s lounge. On the surface, she felt that it wasn’t professional, but deeper down, it only reminded her of their disdain for her. She was already planning the fastest route to get in and out of the lounge with a tea bag.

  Standing outside the door, she could hear her staff's friendly chatter, which only heightened her sense of isolation. She envied their comradery. Just as she did after her final toothbrushing every night, she paused and quickly sniffed. Then, she opened the door and walked in. For a moment, everyone stopped talking and looked up at her. She quickly nodded and headed for the kitchen area for a tag bag—a cue for her staff to resume their conversations, although with more caution.

  She opened the cabinet door labeled “Coffee stuff - please keep stocked,” shoved aside red coffee canisters and a partially used bag of vanilla-flavored coffee, and found a couple of boxes. One was a lemon zinger, and the other was a Lipton. Lipton would have to do. As she fished out a couple of bags, one for now and one for later, she heard the two words often whispered or murmured in her presence by children. Still, she had never heard it from her staff: Fierce-Lips Frazier. With a sting in her gut, she turned around sharply to see who had said it, but everyone was busy talking, munching snacks, or sipping coffee. How much more of this could she take?

  #

  "Is that normal?" said Cal to the other teacher sitting at his table in the lounge.

  "Is what normal?"

  "Uh…the whole room acting as if they had just been caught with their hand in the cookie jar."

  "Oh, one hundred percent normal. She is an utterly terrifying disaster. I'm John, by the way," he said with a faint giggle, extending a hand as neatly manicured as his goatee. His short, thinning hair and the glasses perched on his nose gave him a distinguished, professorial look.

  "Cal," he said, giving him a firm shake.

  John habitually ended most of his sentences with a barely concealed giggle. Cal soon learned it was an affectation that gave him a very pleasant and cheery disposition, whether natural or cultivated.

  "I am the seventh-grade math teacher here. Going on three years squared at Benville Middle School."

  "Oh, Jesus, you're gonna make me do math?" Cal groaned playfully. They both laughed. "Nine years, huh? Is that like a record here? You should have seen the last music teacher turn in his resignation. Do you think she's really blackballed?"

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  John's nearly continual smile faltered as he sipped his coffee, squinting as if he had just bitten into a lemon. "I wouldn't doubt it. She's not much of a... how should I put this... people person."

  "You don't say? If you don't mind me asking, why do you stay on?" Cal inquired, leaning in a bit.

  John's smile and giggle returned. "I get that a lot." He set his mug down and thoughtfully wiped his palm across his chin and mouth. "Well, despite everything, she happens to be a competent administrator and was once a fine educator... before the burnout signs showed. This school district has seen better days. Have you ever wondered why this musical is even a fundraiser? Why it's so critical?"

  "I guess I never really thought about it. I'm not really around schools much."

  "Well, in case you hadn't noticed, while most of the Seattle area is booming, this area is thinning out. Like, you said you're staying in Turan's Hollow?"

  "Yeah...well, for a few weeks."

  "You notice that the schoolhouse is no longer being used for school?"

  "Yeah, I was curious about that."

  "People prefer to be closer to the city, I suppose. Turan’s Hollow is mainly a winter tourism town now, and the younger generation has grown up and moved away. Enrollment here in Benville is down twenty-five percent over the last three years... and that's not Dot's fault." He leaned back, shaking his head. "We simply don't have the tax revenue to support our budget. It's unfortunate."

  Cal hovered thoughtfully over his coffee. He recalled how volatile she had been with him and everyone else at the school, yet how effectively she had managed the class. Had he misjudged her? Perhaps he hadn't given her a fair chance. "Maybe she's not so bad."

  "Oh, no. She's a nightmare," he giggled, "but perhaps she's our best shot at keeping things afloat. I don't want our kids to have to commute even further to larger districts. This little corner of the world is ours. Our children deserve to be educated right here by teachers who genuinely care about Benville and Turan's Hollow... and the other small communities around here."

  As the bell rang, everyone began to clear their mugs and trash, readying for the next period. Cal, however, was finished for the day. They both stood, and John touched Cal's shoulder reassuringly. "Hey, buddy, I'm glad you're with us, even if it's just for a short while. You might be our best hope for maintaining our budget. Don't let Dot or those kids intimidate you," he said, his final grin accompanied by his gentle laugh.

  Tomorrow would be audition day, and Cal's curiosity about the signup sheet quickened his pace toward the music room bulletin board. To his surprise, not only had the original sheet filled up, but two additional sheets had been tacked on to accommodate the number of students eager to audition. He glanced down the corridor—empty in both directions—and allowed himself a grin as wide as any he'd remembered recently. Then, his eyes began to scan the names, searching for one in particular. Near the bottom of the last page, there it was: James Chin, his nephew... aspiring for the role of Prince Charming.

  ##

  "Have you decided what you might sing for me tomorrow?" Cal asked, trying to hide his nervousness with a casual tone while he watched James carefully spread peanut butter on a slice of bread.

  James paused, a knife in one hand and a jar of jelly in the other. "I'm not sure. I've never done this before," he said, "but I'll figure it out."

  "You know, I'd be happy to help you pick something—"

  "Uncle Cal, just let me handle it," James said firmly, capping the jelly and licking a dab of jelly from his pinky finger. "I don't want any help from you. It wouldn't be fair."

  Cal started to speak, but James cut him off. "Uncle Cal! I'll figure something out, okay? Don't you have an opera rehearsal to get to?" He poured his milk so hard that it sloshed a little out of the glass, then picked up his sandwich and glass and headed to his room, leaving Cal in the quiet kitchen, his offer of help hanging in the air.

  Liu entered the kitchen, the jingle of her keys announcing her arrival “What’s all this commotion?”

  “Oh, it’s James. He’s trying out for the musical.”

  “He’s what?” The keys slipped from her grasp, clattering onto the floor.

  “The school musical,” Holding back a smile, he watched her process the news. “Seems he’s set his sights on the lead role.”

  “James? My son? He’s auditioning… for a part?” she asked as she stooped to gather her keys.

  "Yeah, for a part. The lead part.”

  She hung her coat on the back of a chair and leaned against the counter opposite him. “Cinderella?” she asked before a flush of embarrassment reminded her of James’ transition.

  Cal’s laughter was gentle, not mocking. “No, not Cinderella. Prince Charming.”

  “Prince Charming, of course.” Liu corrected herself, a small smile emerging despite her initial mistake. “But can James sing?”

  Shaking his head, he said, "I have no idea. Even during warmups today, I could not hear him. Just thought maybe he was moving his lips. There are some decent little singers in there, though. I'm pretty sure I know who our Cinderella will be, but Prince Charming? A lot of those boys can't even match pitch. There are a couple of voices that come through every now and then, but I haven't been able to figure out who they are."

  "This makes me very nervous, Cal," she said, beginning to pace. "I mean, you've seen him." She came close and lowered her voice. "He's a sensitive kid. This is a really critical time for him. I mean…are the other kids accepting of him? I don't even know. I mean, you can never tell about these small towns."

  He pulled a chair out for her and motioned for her to sit, then sat across from her. "Liu, I just started at this place. It's hard for me to tell. You know how kids are—how they bully. They always wait until adults aren't looking."

  Liu looked hard at the table centerpiece, a jack-o-lantern, and a friendly ghost bumping their hips together. Then she looked at Cal, her eyes welling with anxiety. "I just get so worried about him, Cal."

  "Look, if the audition is going poorly, I'll...I don't know... create some sort of diversion."

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