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Being sixteen is perhaps the worst thing anyone can go through. Okay, so maybe that's a little ridiculous. Still, it sure feels like it, Amara decides. It's been two days since James texted her back which, whatever, she doesn't like him that much anyway, three weeks since she'd found out that she and Isaac had been dropped from the exclusive list of people who will be at Sydney's party, and four months since her parents had sat on her bedside, all apologetic, and tight lipped, saying something about how they're better off as friends while the blood rushed through her ears. She's seen enough of her classmates go through this to know that the whole "better off as friends" thing is a straight up lie adults tell you to make you feel better. Ask Marcus Bowman whose dad got served while presenting for career day last year. Granted, Mr. Bowman is a hedge fund manager, whatever the fuck that means, and Mrs. Bowman, sorry, Mrs. Jackson now, is a local reporter, as opposed to Amara's mechanic father, and her branch manager mother. But still. A lie nonetheless.
"What do you think, Amara?"
Fuck. She definitely has no fucking idea what Dr. Reid is talking about. Amara takes a peek at the chalkboard which says something about descriptive statistics. She doesn't think she can describe a statistic if it hit her in the face. This is why she prefers Mr. Morgan's English class.
Amara grasps at the wisps of her statistics syllabus that flicker through her brain. Maybe it had something to do with the mode? She takes a peek at Dr. Reid who seems content to lean against his desk and look at her patiently as she tries to work out what he had said. She's almost entirely sure he can tell she has absolutely no clue, so maybe this is some kind of sadistic white person humiliation ritual that the new math teacher likes to put his students through.
It's only been a month since Dr. Reid had started, but he's caught the eye of people in her class. Maybe because he's not so far off from their age, relatively speaking. Mr. Morgan had been the youngest teacher they'd had at thirty-five, but apparently Dr. Reid was only thirty. A young thirty at that, Keisha's older sister tends the bar at Molly's Tavern and Keisha had told her Dr. Reid had gotten carded at the entrance. Now, Amara looks at the man – spindly fingers clasped in front of him, his tweed blazer horrifically out of place at their school where most teachers took a more laissez faire approach (like Mr. Gideon, their principal, who wore the same five shirts in rotation).
"Amara?"
Right. The question. The prickle of her classmates' stares makes the blood rush into her cheeks and Amara wills some kind of bullshit to come to her so she can escape this cold call because apparently that is a thing they're doing now. Cold calling on defenseless sixteen year olds who have found themselves in AP Statistics against their will. She's about to make something up when Dr. Reid looks away. To Amara's surprise, its Mr. Morgan interrupting the class. She sits down when no one notices, sighing in relief.
Dr. Reid excuses himself as he trades words with Mr. Morgan. Maybe they're friends because they're the two youngest teachers? Amara is too far back to know what they're saying but unless she's hallucinating she's pretty sure she heard Spence. As in, nickname for Spencer. How close had they gotten in a month? Besides, Mr. Morgan is married. Surely he's not the kind of man to cheat on his wife? Or husband, she thinks. Mr. Morgan says something that makes Dr. Reid look down and bite back a smile, his face pink. Okay, so this is interesting.
Amara slips her phone out and shoots a text to Isaac.
I think Mr. Morgan is having an affair with Dr. Reid.
Isaac looks back at her so fast she thinks they're going to get whiplash. She looks at the text on her phone.
No fucking way????
Fine. She'll prove it to them yet. Maybe this will actually get her to listen in on AP Stats.
***
Let it be known that Amara Johnson did not do anything halfway. Well, except AP Statistics, but her father made her take that class before turning her world upside down with a fucking divorce, so she figures that doesn't count. Anyway, she has a three step plan, one that she is sure will convince Isaac of her hypothesis.
Step one – research. Get more information about Mr. Morgan's husband or wife – or is spouse the correct gender neutral term now? Whatever. More information about him. Step two – find out if Dr. Reid is seeing anyone. He doesn't wear a ring but she has seen a tan line, and also she sits too far back in his class to really notice. That definitely needs to change. Maybe he's divorced? Step two also has a side quest that might be entirely unrelated to her fact finding mission, but Amara needs to know why someone with a Ph.D. is teaching AP Statistics in the middle of nowhere in Virginia. In her wildest speculations, she thinks maybe Dr. Reid is in WitSec, but that's probably her love of procedurals talking. Finally, step three – prove Mr. Morgan and Dr. Reid are seeing each other. Then Isaac will have no choice but to believe her.
Step two A, as she's taken to calling it, turns out to be the easiest. One google search tells Amara there's no fucking way Dr. Reid is in WitSec unless the government has gotten into the habit of allowing people in WitSec to be extremely accomplished three time Ph.D. holders who regularly publish papers and have articles written about them in obscure newspapers and journals that no one in Abingdon High cares enough to read.
One really late Friday night and a couple hours on google are enough to both distract her about missing Sydney's party and put together a shoddy timeline of Dr. Reid's life. There is a mysterious five year gap from when he was twenty-five to right about now and try as she may she can't find out what he's been up to in those years.
On Saturday morning, her mother wakes her up way too early but with the bribe of pancakes so Amara gets up anyway and trudges along to take a shower. Breakfast is quiet, as it often is these days. Her dad moved out two months ago, and her mother doesn't quite seem to know what to say about much of anything.
"How's school?"
Amara looks up in surprise at her mother's soft voice, wincing internally at how hesitant she sounds. There had been a time when Saturday breakfasts were a raucous affair, her father's booming laugh, and her mother's content smile warming up their house as they scarfed down the feast her mom had prepared. Now, Saturday mornings are quiet, and Amara hasn't seen her mother smile genuinely in months. Its always a tight, brittle thing that leaves her feeling worse for wear.
"Its fine," she murmurs around a bite of pancake before adding some more hot sauce on her eggs.
"And your classes?"
The hunger seems to leave her in one fell swoop. Amara doesn't want this awful stilted conversation, she wants her old life back. She pushes away her plate and the scrape of her chair against the floor is loud in the otherwise quiet house.
"Going well," she says, before clearing her plate. "I'm going to Isaac's to work on an assignment, I'll see you for dinner."
***
They're working in quiet harmony when Isaac slams their laptop shut and insists they break for lunch. Amara's stomach makes a sound at that, so she figures she might as well listen to her body. They trail downstairs and into the kitchen where Isaac gets things out for turkey sandwiches. Isaac's house is quiet too, but its always been this way ever since they were kids. Isaac's mother Beth, a high powered architect and a single mom stays perpetually busy, leaving Isaac alone with various caretakers throughout their childhood. Now that they're sixteen, they usually end up by themselves. Growing up, it had felt a little sad to Amara, all this quiet in this fancy house. Now that the quiet has permeated her own life, she rather prefers it here – at least they're free of prying eyes and invasive questions.
"Did you know Dr. Reid has three Ph.D.s?"
Isaac looks at her, surprised, their dark hair falling over their face, sunlight hitting their green eyes just so, making them gleam with interest as they wait for her to elaborate. Amara feels her cheeks turn pink at their indulgent smile and then dread coiling through her gut because no way. This is Isaac. She's known them since they were both five and she's absolutely not going to ruin this by following through on what her body thinks is an increasingly good idea.
"Three?"
Amara nods, grateful at the distraction and satisfied at the appropriate level of incredulity from Isaac. Good. This is good.
"Three," she confirms. "Isn't that crazy?"
Isaac passes her the butter knife and the mayo. "What's someone with three doctorates doing at Abingdon High?"
"Exactly! Don't worry, I'm on it," she says, assembling her sandwich together and adding a pile of chips to her plate while Isaac gets them drinks – Coke for her, a cherry flavored sparkling water monstrosity for themselves.
"And what exactly does on it mean?"
She hates how her cheeks turn pink at the teasing in their voice. Amara wills herself to pull it together. "You know, my three point plan?"
Isaac smiles wide, their teeth glinting against their skin that's paler than hers, but glowing bronze in the afternoon sun. "Oh you mean your fucking crazy idea that our math teacher is sleeping with our english teacher."
"Exactly," she says primly. "Just you wait, I'll prove it to you yet."
"Okay, silly girl," Isaac says as they head back up to their room. Amara doesn't feel her face warm up. She doesn't. Because that would mean she's developing some kind of stupid crush on her best friend, and she really doesn't have the time for that right now.
***
"Okay, now I'm trusting y'all to choose your own partners so don't let me down. This is an in-class writing assignment that will span the next two weeks. Each pair will need to pick either Victor or The Creature as the villain of the story and expand on your thesis statement. Final submission are two weeks from now, as always, office hours are every Tuesday and Thursday if anyone needs a little extra help."
Amara takes down the assignment notes dutifully, already knowing Victor is the villain. She looks at Isaac questioningly. They nod, so she submits the two of them as partners and takes her seat.
By the time the bell rings, she's trying to figure out how she can get some more information out of Mr. Morgan. Isaac follows her as she stops by his desk before heading out.
"Um, Mr. Morgan?"
Mr. Morgan's kind smile momentarily undoes her resolve to harass this poor man into giving up information about his personal life.
"Amara," he says warmly. "What can I do for you?"
"Uh, I think I'd like to take you up on office hours on Tuesday, if that's okay."
Mr. Morgan looks puzzled, and she can't blame him – she's a star pupil. Still, because he's kind of the nicest teacher ever, he nods. "Of course, I'll be here, see you then."
"Thank you," she gushes. "Isaac and I could use the help," she says with a wide smile, ignoring Isaac's eye roll and Mr. Morgan's raised eyebrows. If she is a star pupil, Isaac is only second. Nevertheless, she's determined.
Tuesday afternoon has her thrumming with excitement. Anything to prolong the torture she'll have to go through once she shows her mom her AP Stats pop quiz results. Dr. Reid could be worse, she thinks, she'd been invited to his office hours tomorrow, and Isaac had offered to help tutor her because apparently the universe hates her and Isaac is some kind of late blooming math genius, thriving under Dr. Reid's tutelage.
They enter Mr. Morgan's office hours and find two other students there neither of who seem familiar to Amara. She offers Isaac an apologetic smile as they bring their laptops out to discuss the assignment.
"So Victor's the villain, right?"
Amara nods, smiling when it makes Isaac's shoulders loosen up. "Duh," she emphasizes. "I think his relentless pursuit at playing God is completely amoral."
"Right, exactly," Isaac agrees, typing away. "And obviously his cruel treatment of The Creature is what causes The Creature to lash out and hurt people."
They're interrupted when Mr. Morgan walks over to them. "Sorry, I'm all yours now. How can I help you guys?"
Amara turns in her chair, putting on her most saccharine smile and pretends she doesn't see Isaac look away, holding back a laugh. "Mr. Morgan, are you married?"
If Mr. Morgan is surprised, he doesn't show it, instead just smiling with his eyebrows raised. "I thought you needed help with the assignment," he quips.
She shrugs, nonchalant, and Mr. Morgan huffs out a laugh before grabbing a chair and sitting down. He's cool like that, doesn't get all uppity like Mr. Rossi when someone brings up his two ex wives.
"Yes, I'm married," he says, wiggling his fingers, making the plain gold band shine in the sun.
"How long has it been?"
Mr. Morgan takes an assessing look at her, and Amara feels like she's under a microscope. She wills herself to stay composed.
"What's with the twenty questions?" Crap. Now Mr. Morgan sounds suspicious. Amara puts on her best sad face. Time to use her parents' divorce as ammunition.
"My parents are getting divorced, just wanna know if true love is still out there," she murmurs, only half lying. She can tell it works when Mr. Morgan's brown eyes brim with concern and he stops looking as suspicious.
"I'm sorry, kid," he apologizes, all sincere eyes and warm voice. She wishes he wasn't so handsome on top of it all, its a lot at once. "I've been married to my husband for four years," he adds.
"My parents were married for eighteen and now they just don't want to be, I guess," she says sullenly. Amara hears Isaac's typing slow down, and then stop as they pay attention to the conversation happening in front of them.
Mr. Morgan sighs empathetically. "Sometimes adults are better off as friends. Your parents might do a better job at being parents if they're not fighting all the time," he says, seeming to be aware that its a platitude that doesn't seem to do much for her.
"I guess," she says. "Are your parents divorced?" Maybe Mr. Morgan didn't believe in true love, and that's why he's flirting with Dr. Reid.
He smiles fondly, shaking his head. "My dad passed away a long time ago, but my parents were those embarrassing people who were grownups in love," he says, amused.
Then why are you cheating on your husband, she wants to ask, but she knows this is not how she gets her answer. "That is embarrassing," she says instead. It makes both Mr. Morgan, and Isaac smile, so Amara counts it as a win.
Isaac makes up some bullshit questions about their assignment, which Mr. Morgan answers entirely seriously. It only makes her feel a little bad. They scurry out of office hours, giggling. Isaac says they’re still not entirely convinced. That's alright, Amara decides. Now to find out if Dr. Reid is married too.
***
On Wednesday, Amara follows Isaac up the stairs. The empty classroom on the third floor has been their lunch spot for the last two years every time they want to get away from the riotous cafeteria and away from Nick Myers and his cronies; idiots who liked to make sure everyone around them had a miserable lunch period. Isaac says they’ll be back and leaves for the restroom while Amara is about to enter the classroom with their lunch boxes when she hears voices.
She hides behind the wall and peeks in, hand flying to cover her mouth when she sees Mr. Morgan and Dr. Reid sitting together, talking in low murmurs. Amara desperately wishes Isaac were here to see this. She supposes they could be friends, and maybe its a little hypocritical of her to think friends can't be close like this when she's been like this with Isaac for over a decade, but lately there's a little flutter in her stomach every time she makes Isaac laugh so perhaps its not that hypocritical after all.
Amara peeks in again, looking away quickly when she sees Mr. Morgan lower his head to catch Dr. Reid's eyes, looking morose, like they'd just received bad news.
"She's not doing so great," Dr. Reid murmurs, his fingers clasping and unclasping in a nervous gesture. Amara wonders who he's talking about.
"Spence, you know she has good days and bad," Mr. Morgan murmurs, and Amara tries desperately to figure out who they're talking about. Her best guess is that Dr. Reid's wife is sick. Righteous anger hurtles through her insides when she thinks of some of her research for her extra credit psych project – a 20.8% rate of divorce when wives fall terminally ill compared to a 2.9% rate of divorce when husbands do. Men. She catches the bisexual flag sticker on Dr. Reid's water bottle. So he could still be cheating on his wife.
"Yeah, you're right," Dr. Reid says eventually, taking a sniffling breath. "You always are," he murmurs, and Amara has to look away because Mr. Morgan's face crumples into something too soft for her to see. Maybe Mr. Morgan was just being a really good friend. They're both nice teachers, and she doesn't want to think badly of them.
Amara hears Isaac's sneakers make their telltale sound against the linoleum floor. "Classroom's occupied," she whispers, when Isaac gets close enough.
They raise a single eyebrow. "Damn, who stole our spot?"
"See for yourself," she says smugly. Isaac peeks in and then rolls their eyes at her.
"They're doing a crossword, Amara," they huff out a laugh. "No reason two friends can't do a crossword."
She sighs in exasperation as they make their way back to find another classroom before lunch period is out. "Well then why wouldn't they hang out in the teacher's lounge?"
"Same reason we're not having lunch in the cafeteria," Isaac counters, turning in towards another empty classroom. "You know how Mr. Rossi goes on about his fishing trips, I wouldn't wanna eat there either."
"Fine," she relents. "I guess you're right. Between that and Mr. Hotchner's favorite pastime being golf its probably really fucking boring."
***
Half past three in the afternoon finds her waiting outside Dr. Reid's office hours classroom. She's the only one there, and Amara can't help but find it a little embarrassing. Once again, she would like it to be known that she's in AP Stats against her will. A couple minutes pass before Dr. Reid lets her in with a small smile that doesn't entirely reach his eyes. Amara thinks back to the conversation she'd overheard at lunch and feels a twinge of sympathy.
"I thought we could spend an hour every week going over any concepts you feel like you need extra help with," he says, and Amara thinks he almost looks nervous.
"Why?"
He looks surprised at her question. "I get the feeling you don't love the class," he says delicately. "But I'd like you to at least pass and do as well as you can. Then maybe next time you can avoid math classes," he suggests, smiling softly.
Amara heaves a sigh. "Its nothing against you," she says, settling down into a desk while Dr. Reid pulls up in the one next to her once he drags it closer. "I just don't understand math, and my dad made me take this class."
Dr. Reid studies her for a beat. "And you're fighting with your dad?"
"One of your Ph.D.s in mind reading?" She covers her mouth when she realizes what she's done, her cheeks heating up. Dr. Reid hardly seems to mind, instead smiling at her.
"You looked me up," he surmises. "Find anything good?"
Oh fuck it, might as well, she thinks. "Just the five year gap before this job," she counters, faltering a little when his eyes seem to lose a little of their sparkle. "Sorry," she tacks on, already regretting showing up to office hours.
"No," he says, still looking kind and not as upset as she thought he might be. "Its alright. I, uh, worked for the government. Its classified," he says sheepishly, like he knows exactly how that sounds.
Amara balks. "Like the CIA or something?"
Dr. Reid grins, some of his earlier spark coming back. "If I told you I'd have to kill you," he murmurs, mock seriously.
She rolls her eyes at the corny joke but feels better already. Dr. Reid opens the textbook landing on descriptive statistics. Amara tries not to break out in full body hives. She really hopes this man isn't cheating on his poor wife, he actually seems pretty nice.
The hour passes by quickly, and she can say she understands descriptive statistics at least forty percent better, which is not nothing. Amara stands at the end of class, packing her backpack up as Dr. Reid drops some worksheets on her desk.
"Same time next week?" He leans back against the desk, looking pleased. "You did really well today."
Amara smiles, embarrassed. "I appreciate you taking the time," she says. Its not a lie; few teachers do. Mr. Morgan and Ms. Prentiss are the only teachers who seem to be as interested in what she has to say as Dr. Reid.
"Don't mention it, its the bare minimum," Dr. Reid says instead. He pulls out a ring from around a chain on his neck and slips it on. Amara tries not to stare.
"Sometimes the sensation is overstimulating," he says by way of explanation when he catches her eyes.
Amara nods. Sure, whatever makes him sleep at night. "You're married?"
"Five years this fall," he says, smiling.
She pins him with an incisive stare. "Do you know Mr. Morgan outside of school?"
Dr. Reid looks puzzled, but nods as he grabs his satchel.
"How'd you two meet?"
"I was getting my third Ph.D. at Northwestern, and Mr. Morgan was getting his Masters in Education," he answers, cheeks pink.
Could almost be a meet cute if he wasn't cheating on his wife, she thinks miserably. Or maybe Isaac was right. Maybe they're just really close friends. She's starting to hope that's the case.
***
A few weeks pass without any incident. Well, except the fact that she starts getting Cs in AP Stats instead of Ds and you know what? She'll take it. Cs get degrees or whatever. Isaac continues to thrive in Dr. Reid's class, acing every single extra credit assignment they're given. Unfortunately Amara's body has also continued to have absurd reactions to Isaac's smile, or the casual slide of their arm around her shoulders much to her chagrin.
Heart themed red and pink decorations start popping up at school and she groans as Valentine's Day makes its arrival. February break is soon though, and she can't wait for a week off, there's a long list of movies on her and Isaac's shared note in the notes app that is begging to have some names checked off.
Its the day of when she's closing her locker and Isaac leans against the one next to hers holding a bouquet of sunflowers. Amara pretends she hadn't been hoping for roses, that would just have been stupid. Because they're friends, no matter what the stupid little flips her heart has started doing around them mean.
"Thanks," she murmurs, swapping them for a box of Isaac's favorite chocolates. Just like they have been doing, for years. No reason for things to change now, except Isaac is looking at her, green eyes focused on Amara's braids wrapped in a red scrunchie.
"Its on theme," she says self-consciously.
That seems to knock them out of their stupor and they smile. "You look great."
Amara pretends her face doesn't warm at the compliment.
English is their first class, and when they get As on their joint Frankenstein assignment, she exchanges a high five with Isaac. Towards the end of class, they're interrupted by a mousy looking delivery boy with a bouquet bigger than his face held delicately in his hands.
The class ooohs collectively, which makes Mr. Morgan roll his eyes affectionately as he tips the delivery guy. He places the bouquet on his desk and reads the card, his smile turning into something sweeter.
She decides to pipe up, smiling knowingly. "Who is it from Mr. Morgan?"
"My husband," he says. "Now, can we get back to class?"
Amara looks at the giant bouquet throughout class and hopes her favorite teacher isn't cheating on his husband with her second favorite teacher.
The sky is dappled in pinks and purples as they head out of school, a plethora of couples holding hands and generally partaking in an amount of PDA that grates at her. She startles when warm fingers slip through hers before Isaac falls in step.
"Wanna grab a burger and milkshake at Roy's?"
Amara looks at them. They look weirdly shifty, and she eyes them curiously. "On Valentine's Day?"
Isaac shrugs, color blooming high on their cheeks. "If you're hungry," they say eventually. "You got anywhere to be?"
She rolls her eyes. "You know I don't, come on," she says, tugging them towards their beat up Honda Civic.
The two of them get into the car and wait for a couple cars to pull out from behind them. Amara shuffles with the radio, of course its love song after love song. She gives up and turns it off with a huff.
"Amara," Isaac says, nervously, and alarm bells start blaring in her head. Its all good to fantasize about things that would never happen, but not even couples married for eighteen years make it, so the last thing she wants to do is ruin her decade long and most important friendship for a ridiculous crush that probably only happened because Isaac shot up five inches and put some muscle on over the summer.
"I think I left something in my locker," she says, grabbing her backpack.
"I like you," Isaac says, their voice cracking in a way that might have seemed adorable if she couldn't feel the sting in her eyes.
Amara shakes her head. "I don't want to fuck up what we have now, I'm sorry."
She watches Isaac deflate and then get themselves together, nodding. Their green eyes are darker now, stormier, in the way that lets her know she's hurt their feelings.
"Okay, I won't push," they murmur. "Come on, I'll drop you home."
She sighs, suddenly tired. "I need to grab something from my locker. You should go, I'll take the bus home."
"Come on, don't be silly, the bus doesn't come for another half hour, you'll be home by then."
"I'll see you tomorrow," she says, slipping out of the car and walking back into school, swiping at her eyes and avoiding meeting anyone else's.
It hadn't been a total lie, she did need to grab her notebook out of her locker. She could've grabbed it tomorrow, but space from Isaac seemed like a good idea, so she opens up her locker, shovels the notebook into her backpack and wipes her eyes again for good measure. The hallway is empty, and Amara feels February break and her friendship with Isaac slip through her fingers when she hears voices.
The class next to her locker is empty, and school is out so she peeks in, startling when she spots Mr. Morgan and Dr. Reid standing close to each other. They definitely don't look like friends, her brain supplies unhelpfully.
Dr. Reid threads their fingers together and presses a kiss to Mr. Morgan's cheek. Amara covers her mouth to stop herself from gasping and wishes she hadn't been proven right.
"Thank you for the DVD set," Dr. Reid murmurs, a happy smile on his face. Mr. Morgan smiles indulgently, bringing their clasped hands to his mouth.
"Of course, pretty boy. I was promised a Dr. Who marathon," he teases.
Pretty boy?? Amara can't believe this. Here Mr. Morgan was, downright canoodling with the math teacher when his husband had been lovely enough to send flowers during the day. She opens and shuts her locker door loudly, making them jump apart and look right at her. She knows she should just apologize and leave, that its none of her damn business if two adults want to betray their husband and wife, but Amara thinks of her parents' divorce and how Isaac suddenly seems fine to change their friendship into something dangerous and feels her anger rear its head.
Mr. Morgan breaks the silence first. "Amara? Is everything okay?"
Their hands are still clasped, and Amara huffs out an exasperated breath, her arms crossed in front of her. "Your husband sent you flowers today," she says.
Now both of them look confused. Dr. Reid furrows his brows like he's grading a paper with particularly bad handwriting. "Yes, and?"
She sucks air in between her teeth, frustrated. "So maybe you should go home to him, instead of hanging out with Dr. Reid here! And what about your wife?" Amara lets the question out before her words register and she's promptly horrified. She's so fucked, she just knows this is going to result in her mom getting called to school.
"My what?" Dr. Reid looks puzzled, and so does Mr. Morgan. She's not sure if he realizes it but he's pulled Dr. Reid closer, his thumb drawing little circles on the back of Dr. Reid's hand, a gesture that makes her want to look away.
"Never mind, I'm so sorry," she says, running out of school and towards the bus stop. Amara hears her name as she walks away but lets it be, she'll just deal with it when the inevitable invite to Mr. Gideon's office comes for her.
The bus ride home is uneventful, although her heart continues to race, her eyes continue to fill up, and she keeps replaying the incident in her mind. Amara lets herself into the house, hoping she can escape to her room before her mom finds her.
"Amara is that you?"
She sighs. No such luck, then. "Its me," she answers, as her mother comes into view.
Amara looks at her and feels the need to stifle a sob. The house smells like lasagna, and her mom is wearing a pink sweatshirt that's Amara's favorite on her, her eyes kind, and her hair freshly done.
"I made lasagna, I thought maybe we could watch some movies together like we used to," her mom says, and Amara can't help it then, she launches herself into her mother's arms, taking a whiff of her coconut shampoo mixed with the tomato sauce that must've been simmering for a while.
She hiccups as the tears keep streaming down her face, her embarrassment, and Isaac's hurt face, and her father's absence all swirling into one big cesspool of emotion in her belly. Amara leans into it when her mother runs a hand down her back and whispers a quiet oh honey.
They migrate to the couch once Amara changes into sweats and her mother joins her with bowls of steaming lasagna and some salad. She leans into her mom, sighing when her mother's nails scratch her scalp lightly.
"What's wrong baby?"
And so it all comes out, in between sobs, bites of salad, and copious amounts of sniffling. She leaves out the part where she accused her teachers of having an affair, her mom would probably hear about that soon enough, she thinks.
"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry," her mom whispers, her eyebrows furrowed. "I know your father and I haven't been stepping up lately, and I'm sorry. I think we need to figure out a new normal," she says apologetically.
Amara nods, and they eat for a bit, forks clinking against bowls while her mother puts Crazy Stupid Love on. Not even Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone are enough to turn her mood around, but the movie is good as always, so she watches anyway. Mostly she just enjoys being tucked into her mom's side.
"Do you like them back?"
She faces her mom who looks at her patiently, her eyes knowing.
"I do," Amara says miserably.
"Then you should go on that date," her mother says. "Honey, you can't just close yourself off to love because your parents got divorced," she chides gently.
Amara rolls her eyes, her face warm. "I'm not in love mom, jeez."
That makes her mother giggle, and Amara thinks she can live with the embarrassment, its been a while since she's heard that sound.
"Also, my English teacher and my Math teacher are sleeping together," she says offhandedly.
"Amara!"
"Mom, I'm serious!"
Her mother looks at her, shocked. "Mr. Morgan? But he and his husband seemed like such a lovely couple," she says wistfully.
Amara looks at her, interest piqued. "You've met them?"
Her mom talks around a mouthful of salad. "Ran into them at the grocery store last week. They seemed very in love, are you sure about this?"
"I saw them kiss today," she says, ticked off. "I can't believe Mr. Morgan would do that. His husband even sent him flowers in class today!"
Amara watches her mom tsk at the news before settling down and hitting play on the movie again. She wonders if maybe this means her mom will be slightly less angry when she inevitably gets summoned to school. She glances at her phone and finds two texts from Isaac. Amara turns her phone upside down and focuses on the movie instead of thinking of the dimple in Isaac's cheek when they smiled at her.
***
Last day before February break, she tells herself as she gets off at the bus stop and walks to school. She just needs to get through today and then they get a week off, and she can eat her weight in chocolate and cry about her life in peace. Amara closes her locker door and feels the pinprick of someone's eyes on her. She turns around to see Isaac walk away and feels a little more shitty.
"Amara, could I speak to you for a moment?"
She closes her eyes at Dr. Reid's voice. So much for getting through the day unnoticed. She nods and follows him into the empty classroom.
"I'm so sorry," she begins, quieting down when she spots Mr. Morgan waiting for both of them. Double trouble then, she's so fucked.
"I think there's been a misunderstanding," Dr. Reid says, attempting a smile.
"Yes, I never should've said anything," she pleads, her palms clenched into fists at her side.
Mr. Morgan stands up, shaking his head. "Amara, I'm married to Dr. Reid," he says patiently.
What? She says as much. "I'm sorry, what?"
"He's my husband," Dr. Reid says, his face pink.
She wishes she could say anything else, but no other words seem to come to mind. "What?"
Dr. Reid looks at her. "I don't know where you got the idea that I have a wife, but–"
"I heard you guys talking at lunch in the upstairs classroom a couple weeks ago, something about someone having bad days," she says, confused.
Understanding washes over Mr. Morgan's face. "Kid, we were talking about Dr. Reid's mother. She's sick," he says softly.
Oh. Oh my god she's fucked this up. If only she hadn't been so nosy. Amara fights the urge to slam her head into a nearby wall.
"I'm sorry," she says miserably. "So when you said you met Mr. Morgan at Northwestern," she trails off, embarrassed.
Dr. Reid nods. "Yes, that's when we started dating."
"I'm so sorry," she apologizes, her face hot.
"Its alright, you're not in trouble," Mr. Morgan says, and the sheer relief coursing through her veins is enough to carry her through the day.
Amara nods, almost ducking out of class before turning around last minute. She spots them exchanging relieved smiles and feels a small grin make its way on her face at the sight. Now that she knows they're not cheating they do make a cute couple.
"Were you– um, were you guys friends before–"
"For two years," Dr. Reid says, catching her drift.
Mr. Morgan rubs a hand over the back of his neck, adorably flustered. "Took me over a year to get my act together and ask him out."
Amara nods. "Were you ever worried it would change your friendship?" Her voice is small, and she pretends she doesn't see the two of them make matching concerned faces before Dr. Reid seems to grasp something.
"If you like Isaac, you should go for it," he says, eyes piercing into hers.
Amara feels her face turn pink as she ducks out of class, ignoring their matching grins. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she says before sprinting off to first period.
The day passes by slow as molasses as she turns her abrupt conversation with Isaac in their car over in her head, wondering if she can somehow salvage their friendship at the very least.
By the time it's lunch, she forgoes finding them and just makes her way to the abandoned classroom, only to find them already there, headphones on, and face drawn as they pick at their sandwich.
Amara clears her throat nervously. "This seat taken?"
Isaac shakes their head, taking their headphones off as they make space for her at the spot next to theirs.
"Ask me again," she says.
They look at her strangely. "Amara," they trail off, part hurt, part embarrassed.
"I'm so serious, ask me again," she insists, and something must give way in her face because there's a small smile playing at Isaac's lips.
"Would you like to grab a burger with me?"
Amara smiles, cheeks flushed. "Its a date."
The two of them go back to eating, identical pleased smiles on their faces when she remembers the most important news of all.
"So. Turns out Mr. Morgan is married to Mr. Reid," she says watching the news do a number on Isaac.
"So they're not having a torrid affair, I assume," Isaac says, grinning.
"Oh fuck off," she counters, rolling her eyes. Isaac slips their fingers through hers and she pretends it doesn't make her stomach do funny things as she turns back to her leftovers.
***
Spencer looks at Derek, amused as they watch the two students hold hands through lunch.
"I think our spot's taken," he murmurs, looking at his husband.
Derek smiles at him, bright and beautiful, just like the first day they bumped into each other outside the library.
"Come on, let's grab lunch in the teacher's lounge," Derek says, lacing their fingers together.
"And listen to Rossi complain about his third wife?"
That makes Derek laugh. "You got a better idea, baby?"
"No," Spencer grumbles half-heartedly as they take the stairs. It'll be alright, it always is, when he's with Derek.