Gemotions

The email notification pinged, and Amelia nearly dropped her phone. The subject line: “Welcome to Mrs. Peterson’s Class!” It was a jarring jolt. Mrs. Peterson? The woman who once made her stay in at recess for giggling during a history lesson? Amelia's breath hitched.

She scanned the digital missive, the cheerful font mocking her. The teacher's smiling picture made her want to throw her phone across the room. She could already anticipate the way Mrs. Peterson would treat her child, the same way she had treated her.

Amelia’s fingers started tapping a frantic rhythm against the countertop. She considered, then immediately dismissed, the urge to respond with a scathing email of her own. She began making a list of things her daughter needed for the first day, each item a small act of rebellion.