That day, I sat beside the boy, and when he went to the bathroom, I emptied almost a whole bottle of superglue onto his seat. It was the kind of desk that was attached to the chair, so when he stood up later, the entire desk came with him. He never bothered Tate again, and I never felt bad about the incident like I do now when I think about it. I shift in my seat, sigh; kids can be mean, even when they don’t intend to be or, like me, when they think they have a reason to be. Which is another reason I would have made a good teacher: my empathy for kids in general. I look at the little girl, chomping a second cookie that she thinks I didn’t see her take, and I puff up. Maybe I can still be a good teacher, even now. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know, I guess. Leonora said my stories are all fake ’cause my mom’s a drug addict.”

I tilt my head, concerned because it’s a little more serious than I could have imagined, and I can’t ignore a side of me that would like to take Leonora by the ear and give her a piece of my mind. Not very teacherly of me. “Did Leonora know your mom?”

“No.”

“Then it sounds like Leonora is making up stories of her own.”

Maree presses her finger into a cookie crumb on the table until pieces of it stick to her skin. “Yeah, maybe.” She uses the very tip of her front teeth to bite a minuscule crumb off her finger, then another.

I hand her a cookie, smile. “Why don’t you eat the crumbs all at once?”

She giggles when she takes the cookie. “Thanks.” She finishes it and wipes her mouth. “Do you think we could go see the reindeer?”

The reindeer belong to a longtime resident of Whittier. Tourists love to take pictures with the animals, and when they get paraded around town, it’s quite the photo op. By winter, they spend much of their time in their pen, which sits across from BTI. I’m not sure how to respond to Maree’s request because my likely answer is no, given my limitations, except I don’t want to tell her no. I look outside. Dusk bruises the sky into deep purples and grays. Winter nights in Alaska are a solid presence—inky, dark, and unyielding. “Now?”

“Sure, yeah, that would be awesome. My dad said I can’t go alone or with other kids ’cause of that bear who won’t go to sleep, but it’s okay if I go with a teacher; plus, you’re so tall that no bear would mess with you anyways.” She springs to her feet. “Let’s go!”