Daddy’s Law by K.C. Crowne

Chapter 3

Ava

Wednesdays were probably my favorite because I got to host my art club after classes ended. One of the perks of working for a school like Willingham was not only that they had a gifted summer program, but that there was plenty of money in the budget for extras like art club.

My art club wasn’t very big. Only six students had signed up. I didn’t mind, though. I actually thought of it as a blessing in disguise. Only those who were genuinely interested in the world of the fine arts were here, which meant it was much easier to teach them. In a way, we were on the same wavelength.

Vibing, as the kids say.

Cory, as always, was the last to arrive, but I made sure to set out a fresh canvas for him in a quiet corner of the studio. He greeted me with a big, sweet smile. “Hello, Miss Cruise. What do you want us working on today?”

“I thought I’d introduce you to watercolors today,” I replied. “Have you ever worked with watercolors before? I know you prefer acrylic, but I thought you could give it a try.”

He looked downright ecstatic. “Sounds fun!”

“I should warn you, it may look easy, but mastering watercolor is really understanding how to control your brush. Start by practicing your strokes with one color and see how you like it.”

He nodded enthusiastically and went straight to work.

I made sure to check on my other students, circling the studio space to look at their progress. One of them was working on a clay sculpture, another was creating a mosaic. I’d be lying if I said they deserved to be displayed at the MoMA, but they were doing their best and enjoying the process.

In my book, that was all that mattered.

Three knocks sounded at the art room’s door. Cindy was there, two cups of coffee in her hand. “Boy, do I have news for you.”

I walked over and took one of the cups. “What are you doing here?”

“What? Not happy to see me?”

“I’m always happy to see you, but you’ve never visited me at school before.”

“Well, like I said, I’ve got some news. You busy?”

I gestured behind me to my kids. “I’m supervising.”

Cindy looked unconvinced. “Oh, yes. Things are so out of control. Better call for backup.”

I laughed as I pulled Cindy over to my desk. I couldn’t leave the room because I didn’t want to leave the children alone, so if she was insistent on dishing her daily dose of gossip, she could at the very least do it while I kept an eye on my students. I sat her down in a vacant plastic chair.

“What’s up?” I asked.

She took a deep breath, grinning from ear to ear. “David and I are going to start trying for a baby.”

I gasped, genuine delight bubbling in my chest. “Cindy, that’s amazing! What brought that on? I thought David said he wanted to wait until his thirties.”

“I know, but the other day he came to visit me at the hospital because he locked himself out of the house. We walked past the nursery window and he was just…” She gestured vaguely with her hands. “I don’t know. The look on his face when he saw all those newborns was something else. It was adorable. He asked me later that night if we should give it a try.”

I was pleasantly astounded. I met David and Cindy in college. It felt like just yesterday that they were making flirty heart eyes at each other across the meal hall. And now they were married and thinking about starting a family?

Time really does fly.

Cindy sighed dreamily. “Wouldn’t it be great if you had a couple of little ones of your own? Our kids could grow up together!”

“Oh, I’m really not—”

“Summers at the beach together. Learning to ride their bikes… We could babysit for each other, too.”

I laughed softly. “I’ve got plenty of kids to take care of as it is. I’m not thinking about settling down any time soon.”

“Well, you know who is ready to settle down?”

“Don’t you dare say Ste—”

“Steve.”

“Good grief.”

“He’s been asking about you, you know. If you can just get past the fact that he occasionally snaps his fingers at waiters, then I’m sure you two would—”

The sound of a loud shatter and gasp interrupted us. I stood up in an instant, alarmed to see that the front of Cory’s uniform was soaked through with murky paint water. Two other boys in my art club stood next to him, laughing. Cory looked two seconds away from crying, biting on his quivering bottom lip.

“What happened?” I demanded, rushing over with the tissue box from off my desk.

I surveyed the damage. The watercolor paper Cory was using was soaked through, the paint washed out and running. The small glass he was using to hold his water was in pieces on the floor. Cory was shivering, little hands clenched into tight fists.

“N-nothing,” he murmured.

I frowned at the two older boys. “Well?” I demanded.

“It was an accident,” the first explained simply.

“Yeah,” added the second, “we were only talking to him. Isn’t that right, Cory?”

Cory nodded slowly. “Y-yeah.”

I set my jaw. I didn’t believe any of them for a second. None of the other teachers mentioned anything about an escalation in bullying, but I could definitely see how this was a start. Even gifted kids could be assholes.

I mentally kicked myself. I should have been paying closer attention. I knew these boys were probably to blame, but if Cory was too scared to admit the truth, I couldn’t be certain. This didn’t feel like an accident, but I couldn’t very well go around pointing fingers without proof.

“Go back to your seats and stay there,” I ordered firmly. The boys left without another word. I returned my attention to Cory, handing him several tissues to try and mop up the mess. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, Miss Cruise.”

I looked him directly in the eye, searching for the real answer. He was hiding something. “You know you can tell me anything, right? You won’t be in trouble.”

“It was an accident,” he repeated, a flat coldness clouding his normally brilliant green eyes. Cory was putting his shields up, blocking me out. If I tried any harder, he might shut me out for good.

“Alright. Do you have your gym uniform in your locker?”

“Yes.”

“How about you change, and I’ll clean this up? You’ll be miserable in your wet clothes.”

He wordlessly got out of his chair, carefully making his way around the shattered glass. Cory walked calmly toward the art room’s doors but broke into a sprint the second he was in the hall.

“What was all that about?” Cindy asked, walking over to hand me a broom.

“I’m not sure.”

“Boys will be boys, right?”

“Boys will be held responsible for their actions,” I corrected loudly so the students in question could hear. I planned to keep a closer eye on them from here on out. Such behavior was unacceptable.

I cleaned up as much as I could, making sure no loose shards of glass remained on the floor. Cory’s art piece was totally ruined. Unsalvageable.

After I discarded the broken glass into the appropriate disposal bin, my phone vibrated twice in the back pocket of my jeans. It seemed like I had a never-ending list of distractions today.

It was a text from my father.

Be mindful of your surroundings on your way home.

I frowned at my phone. Sometimes I felt like my father liked to reach out to me mid-thought. There was no context for this warning. The last time I spoke to him was almost two weeks ago. He was too busy to respond —as per usual— his career occupying the majority of his time.

I had no idea what to do with his cryptic message. Never a ‘hey, how are you,’ or a ‘I hope you’re doing well.’ My father was always straight to the point, even if that meant leaving me completely out of the loop and jumping over several talking points to get there.

Of course I would be mindful of my surroundings. I always was. A woman living alone in Chicago kind of had to be. I admittedly didn’t appreciate it, the occasional parental reminders even though we hadn’t lived under the same roof in literal years.

The rest of the hour went by without another incident. Cory returned to his watercolor project, engrossed in his technical work. He seemed blissfully unaware of the whispers and sideways glances of his classmates. The two boys from earlier didn’t try any more funny business, especially now that I was keeping watch.

Still, as a teacher, it didn’t feel like I was doing nearly enough. Art club was supposed to allow for creative expression and exploration, not be a hotbed of gossip and cliques. How could these kids bring me such joy, yet be such a pain in my butt at the same time? Why couldn’t everyone just get along?

Because life isn’t that simple, Ava,I could practically hear my father say.

When the hour and a half block was over, the kids filed out for the day. Cory, as per usual, was the last to clean up. It was obvious from where I was sitting that he was deliberately taking his time, hoping to avoid the older students. He made sure to wave at me before he left, hoisting his oversized backpack over one shoulder.

He smiled as he said, “Bye, Miss Cruise. And Miss Cruise’s friend.”

It didn’t quite reach his eyes.