Fragmented Dreams

Chapter 16: Parent-Teacher Conference

**Warning: This chapter contains assault. Reader discretion is advised.**

After he was done admiring my painting I showed Grandpa around the club room, introducing him to all of the other students with whom I was friendly. Mrs. Gomez found us at one point and flirted openly with Grandpa, commenting on his hair, beard, and suit; all while peppering me with compliments. I could tell she was genuine in both her attraction to my guardian and her enthusiasm for my skills. Grandpa wasn't an avid flirter so he would often smile politely and answer with one-word responses until said person gave up and left. Mrs. Gomez was eventually called away and I led Grandpa outside to enjoy the gardens, staring up at the moon as we walked. Grandpa was talking to a rose bush when a thought hit me.

"Oh hey, did Casimir come with you?"

"He's around here somewhere," Grandpa mused, still looking at the flora. "We got separated at the gate, but I know he'll be around to look at your painting soon."

"Oh, he's seen it," I said with a dismissive wave. The young man had been walking me home every day since he arrived and at some point, someone had invited him into the art club room to check out all of the art. "He was told not to come to the open house because of his 'inappropriate hair color' earlier in the day, so I was worried."

"Oh yes, that," Grandpa grumbled, looking over at me. "Ridiculous."

My cell phone buzzed, signaling me that the showcase was going to start soon so I herded my grandfather over towards the main building to grab some seats. He complained slightly, as he hadn't been able to visit the vegetable gardens near the edge of the forest. I had to promise that I would get Zola to give him a tour sometime in the future just to get him to follow me. The idea of a private tour seemed to placate him for the moment, especially when I insisted that the gardens were much more interesting in the daytime. As we were wandering the halls of my school grandfather excused himself to use the restroom and I decided to try poking my head into a few open classrooms, checking out the displays and groups of students answering questions.

"Ms. Massey, may I have a moment of your time?"

I looked up to see my homeroom teacher, Mr. Burke, standing beside me. He was dressed in the same suit from this morning, which was even more wrinkled than the last time I had seen it. It seemed unfair that we, the students, were written up for looking untidy but he could come to an event looking like he slept in his clothes.

I realized I had paused for too long as Mr. Burke's face furrowed into a frown, his lips tightening into a thin line.

"Of course, Mr. Burke," I responded. He gestured for me to follow him and we walked down the hall, all the way past the activities. He turned to start up the stairs to the second floor and I hesitated, worried about why he wanted to go so far away from everyone else.

"Mr. Burke, where are we going?"

"Follow me please," he said simply, stomping up the stairs. I grumbled softly under my breath and began my slow climb, until finally, he led me to our homeroom, shutting the door behind us as we entered.

"What did you want to speak with me about?" I said, turning to look at Mr. Burke. My hands brushed against the folds of my new dress and I nervously pinched the fabric between my fingers. I didn't like the idea of a closed door and I had no idea what my homeroom teacher wanted to tell me, or why he insisted on speaking to me in private. I had only gotten to know Mr. Burke during the last year, but we had never had any interactions beyond the normal student-teacher discussions. His actions were puzzling, to say the least, and I only hoped the problem was as mundane as some questions on my latest essay.