Ryan took his time unfolding the arms of his glasses, rubbing at a spot on the lens with his shirt-sleeve, then sliding them into place. His fingers ran through his hair, while the fingers of his other hand stayed on his glasses. A reminder, lingering as he focused his eyes on his homeroom teacher.

Mrs. Parrish was giving him a look. Sad and disappointed, but not disappointed in him. She wore bright colors, and all of her jewelry looked like it was bought from the same kiosk in the mall. Not even a store, but one of the booths that were set up in the walkways, that stuck ‘fair trade’ in the name and sold wooden beads they’d probably made themselves for twenty times the price.

He had a running bet with himself that she had at least three cats and one other random pet. She definitely didn’t have a wedding ring on her left hand, and that was a ship that had sailed a long time ago.

He smiled, the smile measured to the occasion.

“What goes around comes around,” she said.

He had to be careful. He looked at the door beside him, and he could hear the murmurings of his parents. He adjusted his glasses without looking at Old Mrs. Parrish, and he thought about all the possibilities. How dangerous was she?

His parents were saying something about suing the district. He could call her out on exactly what she was, cut her down like she’d tried to cut him down. But it wasn’t worth the risk.

“Are you threatening me, Mrs. Parrish?” he asked.

She leaned forward, arms on the divider that separated the two office secretary’s desks. Her fingers rotated a piece of wood at her wrist that had been painted a jade green, until a backwards swastika showed.

“No. I believe in karma,” she said. “I think if you do good, then you’ll find your way forward. People will want to help you, and opportunities will present themselves.”

“Oh,” he said. He tried to look like he was digesting that.

She was almost rushed as she cut in, “Don’t say anything, Ryan. Just… think about it.”

She sounded so guarded. Defensive.

“I’m mostly thinking about how that explains a lot about you, Mrs. Parrish. You never look really happy, except that one time Tyler pranked Ben in class—”

“Ryan.”

“—which is kind of mean spirited, isn’t it? And you’re unmarried and old and I’ve never seen you hanging out with another teacher. None of the students come to your desk to shoot the shit after class.”

“Enough, Ryan.”

He wanted to say more. He could even get away with it. He could press her and she’d get mad, and his parents were right here, to see what he had to deal with at school. He bit his tongue instead. He adjusted his glasses, looking down at his lap.