Chapter Text
Tuesday was better for Grace, his headache had mostly gone away and he was feeling a bit less embarrassed and heartbroken, which was a win these days. His eighth graders had a practice test so he sat in silence, watching them struggle and scribble down answers with puzzled looks on their faces.
“Remember guys, it’s only a practice test! So just do your best and we can iron out any problems over the next few weeks, that’s what practices are for.”
A few of his students looked a little bit too relaxed, however, but that was a problem for future Grace.
“As soon as you’re finished you can head to lunch early,” he said as an incentive, “BUT don’t rush through it, double check your answers.” He definitely felt the need to add the last part, after marking one too many tests that had entire empty sections.
One by one his students came up and dropped their tests on the pile, some smiling as they came, others looking disappointed, a few terrified. “Well done,” Grace nodded as each came past him, “I know you did your best.”
The last student to get up was a boy called Harry. He was tall for his age, with way too much hair flopping over his ears and in his eyes. He was usually quite loud and a bit obnoxious, trying to make everyone laugh, but he was smart, and Grace let him get away with more than other teachers would because he knew that the kid meant well.
He put his test down then started towards the door, but turned at the last second. “Dr Grace I think I fuck- I messed it up.”
Grace looked up at him through his glasses, nearly addressing the cursing, but thought against it once he saw the look on the kid’s face.
“Hey buddy it’s fine, like I said it’s just a practice.”
“Yeah, but I know that stuff, I know I do, I just sat down and it all left my brain.”
Grace nodded slowly, leaning against the desk, “What do you think happened? Was it stress or is there something else on your mind?”
The boy shook his head dismissively, “Nevermind, it’s stupid, I’ll do better next time.”
“Hey, no, if there’s a problem I’m sure we can figure something out.”
He took a deep breath, “Maybe there’s something on my mind,” he was avoiding the teacher's careful gaze, “but it’s not that deep, can I just take the test again?”
“If you want to, I’m sure we can find time for it.” Grace paused, “Do you want to talk about what’s maybe on your mind?”
“Can I redo the test next week?” Harry was still looking at his feet, picking the skin off his thumb with his teeth.
“Yeah bud, I’ll sort it for you.”
Finally looking up, Harry adjusted himself, breathed out and turned to the door, “Thanks Dr G.”
Once the boy had left the room, Grace looked at his test paper, flicking through it. There was an answer under the first question then nothing. Across all 8 pages.
Grace sighed and sat back down in his chair, running his hand through his hair.
“You okay Ry?” a face popped round the doorframe.
“Hey Adrian,” he scrubbed his hand over his face, “yeah I’m okay, just worried about this kid,” he exhaled, “and I’m really tired.”
“Did you sleep?” They walked into the room and sat on the table in front of Grace’s desk, legs hanging off the side.
He shrugged in response and picked Harry’s test back up, “How do you figure out whether a kid is distracted because of kid reasons or…”
“Adult reasons?” Adrian finished his sentence.
“Mmmmm,” he doesn’t look up.
✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷
Simon’s alarm went off at 4 while he was eating his pre-work meal (too late to be lunch and too early to be dinner). He forced the last of his steak and salad sandwich into his mouth and wiped his hand on his work trousers.
Half-choking, he picked up his phone and plate in his one hand and tried to release the plate into the sink. He misjudged his grip, however, and his phone fell along with it. Something cracked.
“Sh-crfh-shit!” He choked on the crumbs in his throat for a second, leaning on the counter. He closed his eyes and breathed in. Fuck’s sake. He kept his eyes screwed shut to avoid coming to terms with, best case, a cracked plate and worst a cracked phone or sink.
In the 8 years since he’d lost his arm he had made a lot of progress in accepting what he could and couldn’t do.
Cracking an egg? Could do! Tying shoelaces? Not so much.
He’d adapted, bought shoes with zips and velcro and installed aids in the kitchen and the bathroom. He asked for help when he needed it, drove an automatic car, taught himself to pour a pint one-handed, and generally got on with his life. Because he didn’t have a choice.
But sometimes, stupid, dumb little things like trying to put a plate in a sink made him break down.
He looked up finally to find the white plate broken in two.
Breathe, Simon. He picked up and dried off his phone, sighed and zipped up his boots. The plate could wait.
He pulled into the middle school’s car park a few minutes late and jogged over to the pick-up spot. Evie was sitting on the step next to a girl with curly blonde hair and braces and they were talking, passionately, about something Simon couldn’t quite hear yet.
Behind them, perched a familiar blond man wearing a yellow rain jacket and a red tie. He looked up as Simon continued jogging over, adjusting his lopsided glasses and pushing them more firmly onto his face. He waved awkwardly as Simon smiled at Evie and then over at him.
“Hey Si!” she grinned and waved at him too.
“Hey bud, sorry I’m so late.”
She shrugged and went back to her conversation, absent mindedly putting the books that were spread around her feet into her grey bag, the keyrings jingling as each one went in.
“Dr. Grace,” his attention turned to the teacher, who was looking over awkwardly, “how are you?”
“Uh, good!” He perked up, seemingly pleased to be acknowledged, “and you?”
Simon nodded slowly, rubbing his hand over his stubble and trying not to think about the near-meltdown he’d had over that fucking plate.
“Yeah I’m alright. Gotta drop Evie at our neighbour’s before my shift tonight.”
“Ah, fun,” Grace said, standing up and rocking back on his heels, “God I couldn’t imagine working in the evening, I mean, I used to stay up late at the library but even that was a lot, and I definitely couldn’t talk to anyone at that time, let alone manage a bar-”
He kept rambling and Simon’s eyebrow slowly arched, in amusement but also awe at how he kept talking.
“Yeah, well,” Simon interrupted, “I couldn’t imagine spending my day with kids. One is bad enough.” he nudged Evie with his foot, who suddenly looked up in faux horror.
Grace laughed softly, “Fair point, I don’t know how I do it.”
Both girls turned with open mouths to stare at their teacher. “Rude!” Evie laughed, swinging her bag onto her shoulder as she stood up.
Simon smiled slightly and welcomed her over, “Bye Dr Grace! Bye Rena!” She grinned and skipped towards the man’s open arm. He looked over her head and waved at the teacher leaning against the wall.
Evie caught his glance suspiciously, but gave up pretty quickly to tell him about the book Rena was showing her and how she needed to read it. Simon listened intently all the way back to their house.
✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷
Grace cycled home, his books and papers wrapped up in his bag on his back. He liked cycling, he liked the exercise and he really liked not paying for fuel. There weren’t many places he couldn’t get on his bike or on a bus, so a car seemed unnecessary.
Once at home he made a cup of tea and started marking the eighth grade practice tests.
B+ - Well Done !
A- - You’re doing great !
C - Room to improve!
Then he got onto Harry’s. He read through the first question and answer.
“The pancreas produces several digestive enzymes.
Cystic Fibrosis reduces the amount of each enzyme that reaches the small intestine.
Explain why someone with Cystic Fibrosis has difficulty gaining muscle mass” 6 marks
Harry’s answer was detailed, well thought out, and had all of the key terms required for all 6 marks. Not a single other question had been touched.
Grace often read too deep into student behaviour, thinking that a girl was being bullied when her friends didn’t sit with her at one lunch break or another girl’s mum was neglecting her because she came in crying (her mum had taken her phone away after finding out she was on snapchat at 11). But he always decided that was the better way to be, and he’d rather be too worried than let a child slip through the cracks.
He deliberated for a bit, before giving up marking and making some food to calm down. He’d talk to the guidance counselor tomorrow, book in a make-up test for Harry, and keep an eye on him. It was probably nothing.
✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷
“RUN and grab what you need, I’m already late.” Simon said as he shut the door and hung the car keys up. He did trust Evie to walk down the street to Ava’s, but it was on his way and he felt that it looked a bit better to stop and talk as opposed to letting her spawn in Ava’s kitchen without a word.
Simon ignored the plate in the kitchen, knowing it would only piss him off and he was already on edge going into this shift. He loved his job, it was one of the only stable things in his life, second to Evie, and he clung onto it quite desperately. Despite the anti-social hours, it worked very well for him as he usually functioned best in the evenings, and he liked being the manager. He got to choose his staff and his hours (mostly) and he only saw the owner every few months.
Minutes later, (Simon appreciated Evie’s sense of urgency,) she reappeared with a different, purple backpack and a green hoodie on. “Thank you kid, let’s go,” he was already half way out of the door.
They arrived at Ava’s, Simon breaking into a speed walk as they went, and she opened the red door to greet them. She was a tall, slim woman in her mid-30s, with a scar going down her left cheek. She’d vaguely excused it with a story about a childhood accident, but she’d explained it with a hesitation that Simon didn’t believe, but didn’t know her well enough to question.
Grease stained her wrists and the hem of her grey sweatshirt, and there was a smudge of oil on her forehead that looked almost too perfectly placed.
“Hey guys,” She smiled as she leaned out the door,
“Hey Ava,” Simon responded, with a sharp exhale.
“I just got in from work, give me one second to run upstairs and get changed,” she said, letting them in the door and jumping up the stairs.
Simon went to shout after her, stressing that he really didn’t have to wait, but refrained, knowing that this was a favour and also not the last time she’d be doing it this week.
Ava’s living room had the same layout as Simon and Evie’s, their street being essentially copy and paste, but the inside definitely felt different.
Where Simon had decorated with plants and pictures of the two of them, Ava had large paintings across on the two long walls and model cars on the shelves.
She had very few pictures, but the space still felt cozy, several mismatched lamps illuminating different sections of the relatively small room. It looked a bit like a vintage store or a high end charity shop, Simon thought.
The sofa was covered in coloured blankets and two tabby cats curled up on either end, one of which looked up to greet Evie who had already made herself comfortable, stroking the cat’s back with her feet tucked underneath her. She’d kicked off her converse under the wooden coffee table, which was relatively empty except for an ash tray and a Top Gear magazine.
“Much better!” Ava’s voice carried down the stairs, “How are you two?”
Her hair was tied back with a black claw clip and she’d put a long-sleeved black top on.
Evie shrugged, “Tired, and hungry, Si didn’t even let me get a snack just because he was late picking me up.”
At the mention of this, Simon’s jaw tensed. He always felt bad when he was late and rushed Evie.
Ava laughed, breaking the tension instantly, “I’ll grab you something to eat before dinner, I’m making carbonara, is that okay?”
Evie instantly perked up, and Simon’s shoulders relaxed minutely. “Thank you so much again Ava, I’ll be back around midnight.”
“No worries Simon, I know you’ve got my boys whenever I go away,” she chuckled again and gestured towards the cats, one of them purring under Evie’s hand.
Simon kissed Evie on the head, gave Ava a wave and headed out the door towards the bar.