"There's no way that it's not going there."
Whose to say moving across the country for a job and a best friend is a stupid decision? Oh, right, everyone she knew back home.
But where he was, that just had to be home. She just wasn't sure if she'd e...
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ophelia carmine has entered the chat...
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Ophelia Carmine, currently forty-eight years old, had met Blair Macaspac when the younger girl was fifteen and in high school. At the time, she was thirty-five, had been teaching for eight years at a public high school, but was in her first year teaching at a private school. She had been assigned one period of advanced english, with five periods of regular.
It can be guessed which class period Blair Macaspac had Ophelia as her teacher for.
Little did Ophelia know at the time, the little fifteen year old Filipina would have one of the biggest impacts on her, and Ophelia would have one of the biggest impacts on her. All those years later, all Ophelia could see when looking at Blair was a miniature version of her—she even had her wit and sarcasm down pretty well.
She looked around Seattle Grace, her small bag luggage still in her hand as she had taken a taxi over right as she flew in. The flight from Boston to Seattle was the longest seven-ish hours she had spent in her entire life.
She examined the interior of the hospital with curiosity, trying to figure out where exactly she would go in a circumstance like her own.
Her eyes honed in on a familiar face, attached to a body that was pacing around a waiting room, one arm crossed over his chest and another pressed to his lips in contemplation. His eyebrows were knit together, and he wore light blue scrubs and a white doctor's coat.
Ophelia had to admit, it was kind of surreal seeing that boy stand there so adult-like. She refused to admit that any of her kids could ever grow up. They were still so small in her mind.
She marched right over to him, putting her hands on her hips, "Avery," she started in the same tone she used to always use when he wasn't paying attention in her class, "how's our girl?"
The smile on her face was a front, pretending to make a big entrance into the hospital and make iconic one-liners in a way to pretend her heart wasn't racing ten thousand miles a minute.
She had an air to her, walking around untouchable, so light and carefree. Except, when it came to Blair Macaspac, Ophelia Carmine did not play.
For Blair, if mockingbirds didn't sing and rain didn't shine, she would break necks.
Jackson's eyes widened as he blinked up at the woman in front of him, pausing in his tracks.
"Are you... going to speak?" she asked expectantly, watching as he stared down at her in shock, "or are you going to continue to all but glitch in front of me?"
"Ms. Carmine," he shook his head out of his confusion.
The boy was a damn surgeon, but still couldn't bring himself to call an old teacher by her first name. Blair could—Blair actually never really called Ophelia "Ms. Carmine" either. It was either always "Carmine" or "Ophelia." She never used the "Ms."
