Welcome to Reefside (editing in progress)

Last Day At Reefside High Part 1

AN: This chapter will mostly be in Tracy's teacher's POV, reflecting how much Tracy has changed since her first day at Reefside High

Dr. O's POV

There's something different about the air today. Not quite the electric buzz before a storm, but more like that quiet warmth before something important ends. The last day of school for the seniors always feels like this. But this year... it hits a little harder.

I glance up from my notes just as the door swings open.

Tracy walks in—on crutches, but with that same steady grace she's carried through every challenge this year. There's no backpack slung over her shoulder, probably because Eli insists on carrying it. Sure enough, I spot him trailing behind her with Madge close at his side, and Samason not far behind, practically bouncing.

"Morning, Tracy," I say.

"Morning, Dr. O."

The little ones wave too, which earns them a smile and a wave back.

The students file in and start settling into their seats, buzzing with quiet chatter. I wait until the second bell rings before walking over to the counter near my desk, where a small box sits. I lift the lid and glance inside—three toy dinosaurs, each one hand-picked and packed last night.

I kneel down slightly so I'm eye level with the trio of five-year-olds.

"I heard it's someone's first day shadowing a high schooler," I say with a grin.

Eli nods proudly. "We're with Tracy. She's the best."

"She sure is," I say, then hand each of them a dinosaur.

Eli gets a triceratops, bold and solid—like him. Madge gets a gentle, long-necked brachiosaurus, painted with a bit of glitter, that I knew she'd love. And for Samason? A fierce little T-Rex with sharp teeth and wild energy to match his own.

Their eyes light up, and Madge gasps like I just gave her a puppy.

"These are so cool!" she squeals.

"Take good care of them," I say. "They're your classroom guardians for the day."

Tracy watches from her seat, a smile tugging at her lips. There's something in her eyes, too—gratitude, maybe. Or just the quiet kind of affection you don't have to say out loud.

The bell rings soon after, and the lesson starts, but I keep one eye on Tracy throughout. She answers questions, helps a kid next to her who clearly forgot what atoms are, and gently redirects Samason when he tries to make his T-Rex eat Eli's pencil.

When the bell rings again, there's a lump in my throat.

She rises slowly, grabs her crutches, and starts for the door with the little ones trailing after her. Just before she leaves, she turns.

"Thanks again, Dr. O," she says.

I nod, but what I want to say is thank you.

For being exactly who she is.

Miss May's POV

If you had told me at the beginning of the year that Tracy Burlew—the quiet girl who sat in the third row and barely spoke above a whisper—would one day sing boldly in front of the whole class, I would've smiled politely and assumed you were being very optimistic.

But now?

Now I see her step into my classroom, crutches and all, her head held high, flanked by two energetic five-year-olds who practically bounce as they enter. Tracy's eyes sparkle. That's new. The confidence, the comfort in her own skin—it's something she's earned.