“Come on, Joe. The assignment. All the negative publicity. That fight during the protest hit way over a quarter million views and comments, and even though the students were praised for their peaceful resolution, it never should have gotten out of hand in the first place.”

“But I apologized. Lieutenant Franklin’s presentation was highly impactful. You saw the students’ evaluations. The assignment will never be given again. Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“You were fortunate to finish out the year. The commissioner wanted me to fire you on the spot. But I advocated for you, did everything I could to save your job. You’re a year shy of tenure, so there’s nothing we can do. This assignment put us in a horrible situation. I’m still getting calls about it.”

The office closes in on Joe and spots dance before his eyes. He picks up the water bottle and drains it dry. Fired. Terminated. His stomach lurches and he fights getting sick by closing his eyes, but it only makes the room spin faster.

Opening his eyes, he says, “I’m a good teacher.”

“I know.”

“But—”

“I’m sorry. The decision is final.”

Joe loses his ability to speak. Thinking back, he’d expected to be fired after the protest went viral. One more black eye for the school, but things settled down. His apology leaked onto the internet, not his exact words because they weren’t recorded, but close enough. Sure, people said it was too little, too late, but his students supported him. Arthur had supported him, or at least he thought so. A reporter had asked Cade and Logan if they wanted him fired. Logan had said, “This was a learning experience for all of us.”

Realizing he’s been lost in his thoughts for quite some time, Joe looks up. There’s concern on Arthur’s face, but Joe knows him well enough that arguing will be futile.

Reality hits its mark. Fired. How did this happen? It’s still a shock to him. The light in the room shifts as everything Joe worked hard for unravels and floats away in a black void of nothingness. Who is he if he doesn’t teach? He loves it, loves the kids.

Color leaches from Joe’s face. His breath is short and shallow, and beads of sweat form on his forehead. Arthur takes out another water bottle and pushes it across his desk. He leans as far forward as he can, taps his fingers to get Joe’s attention.

“Joe?” He doesn’t respond. Arthur gets up, comes around his desk, and sits on the edge. He rests a hand on Joe’s shoulder. “Do you want me to call Mary? She could come in, help you clean out your room?”

Joe slowly meets Arthur’s gaze. “No. That’s all right.” He gets to his feet.