Short Stories

3: Ms. Marlee

Ms. Marlee. The only person who truly understood me. The woman who stood up for the LGBTQ+ community. The teacher who stopped at nothing to help her students succeed. The human who did the impossible. Ms. Marlee. My 8th grade History teacher.

When I was in 8th grade, I, obviously, had Ms. Marlee as my History/ Social Studies teacher. She taught in a way that made you feel confident about yourself, about your grades, about your appearance, no matter how you acted or looked. How good you grades were or how bad your life might of been.

At home, my dad had just gotten a divorce with this really nice woman, Espen Davis. I absolutely loved her, but she never loved my dad. My dad drank a lot, screamed plenty, and made my life a living heck. I had told Ms. Marlee about my heart-breaking event, and she  actually invited my to her house once a week to get away from my mess of a life. She helped me with the homework I had trouble with, and I felt important. Like I meant something to the world.

On March 18th, when we were taking a test on the Civil Rights Movement, I started tapping my pencil on the desk, shaking my foot up and down to get rid of my nerves. As soon as I set down my pencil to make a mark on the scantron, I felt something hit my back.

Turning around, and pulling my sleeves down further than they could stretch, probably torturing them, I glared behind me. I saw Brent Hennings, his head in his hands, face bright red, stifling a laugh.

Glaring at him, I turned back around in my seat, trying to focus on my test in front of me.

Number 9. Which woman went to jail and roused a bus boycott?

Easy. Of course it was...then my mind went blank. I looked up at the clock, the second hand ticking. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. I couldn't focus at all. Too many distractions.

I remember what Ms. Marlee told me one night while we were having pasta. "Rosa Parks. Same name as you, huh?"

Scribbling down my answer. Rosa Parks. Grinning, I finish my test.

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"Ma. Marlee?" I look up at her, tears threatening to spill out, wanting to smear the makeup hiding my bruises on my cheeks.

"What is it?" She takes off her large glasses.

"I...I haven't been living with my dad lately."

"Why?" She looked truly concerned.

"He's...he's too much right now. Um, I just kind of stay in the library until late and climb into my bedroom window. At night."

She hugs me. "I had no idea."

The tears ran down my face, dripping onto my legs splayed on the chair.

"Aww honey, come here." She pulls me close. "You can always stay with me."

I look up at her, my eyelashes coated with tears, making my vision blurry.

"Isn't that illegal?"

"It's inhumane to treat a child this way." She announces. I heard her front door open. Eyes widening, I furiously try to wipe away my tears, blinking hard to get rid of the red in my eyes.

"Hey, sweetie. I didn't know Rosa was still here. It's nearly dinner." Her husband said. He was never angry, but he looked shocked at my bruised up tear streaked face.

"I, I have to talk to you quick Quill."

She led him away carefully, looking back at me smiling. I turn away and try to get rid of the wetness on my hands by wiping them on the hem of my shirt.

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That's how I became Ms. Marlee's adopted daughter. The woman who knew how to help me, saved my living hell from becoming my life.

A/n: OH MEH GURRRRRDDDD! I am so so so sorry for leaving you without a chapter in any book for like 2 weeks!

This just popped in my mind when I was, and am, doing homework. *chokes on spit* I mean...done with homework.

Soooo, hope you enjoyed the chapter because I know I did. I don't know what cane over me to write sad stories, buttttt, I'm not sure. Maybe because I got 4th chair in orchestra.

😭😭I'm fine. I'm fine. Waaaaaaaaahhhhh.

Anywayyyy, again, hope you enjoyed, and see y'all some in some other chapter! Oh plus, go check out -kiwipineapple- 's story, Stereotypical! It's amazballssssicnskxnwocn!!!!!

The weirdo is out!