Chapter 42 Nora

Chapter 42 Nora
Liam's POV

The big clock on the wall above Mrs. Gable’s head ticked so loud it sounded like an angry drum. Each tick was a push, pushing me closer to tears, but I bit my lip until it stung. Mrs. Gable said big boys didn't cry. My mom, Liana, always said I was her Superman, and Superman didn't cry. Superman was brave. I wanted to be like Superman. But it was so hard. Mom was gone. She was supposed to stay with me, but she left.

“Alright, class,” Mrs. Gable said, her voice like soft bells, but I barely heard her. I was staring at the half-filled box of crayons on my desk. They weren’t as good as my ones at home. “Today, we’re going to learn about… addition!”

A few kids cheered. I didn't cheer. I just looked at the door, hoping Mom would come back, even though she said she wouldn’t until school was over. Addition. That was grown-up stuff. I was only five years old. Mom always said I was super smart though, because she taught me things at home. Kindergarten stuff was boring now. This was first grade.

Suddenly, the classroom door creaked open, and everyone turned to look. My head snapped up, heart thumping. Was it Mom? No. It was a tall lady with a stiff-looking yellow dress, and a little girl clinging to her hand. The girl had long, brown hair with a pink bow, and her eyes were wide. She looked even sadder than me.

The lady in yellow didn’t smile. Her face was tight. She looked at Mrs. Gable like she was a bug. “Are you Mrs. Gable?” she demanded, her voice sharp and loud, cutting through the quiet classroom.

Mrs. Gable blinked. “Yes, I am. And you must be…?”

“Nora’s mother,” the lady said, pulling the little girl forward a bit. Nora fidgeted and looked at the floor. “Ethan D’Arden’s daughter. I trust you know what that means.”

Mrs. Gable nodded, her soft bell voice gone, replaced by a nervous whisper. “Of course, Mrs. D’Arden. Welcome, Nora.”

“Good. Because I have a few words for you. This girl is important. Very important. Her father, Ethan D’Arden, does not tolerate carelessness.” The lady put her hands on her hips, towering over Mrs. Gable. “Nora must be attended to. Well fed. And above all, happy. Do you understand?”

My eyes widened. She sounded so mean. Why was she talking to Mrs. Gable like that? Mrs. Gable was nice.

Mrs. Gable wrung her hands. “Absolutely, Mrs. D’Arden. Nora will receive the best possible care here. We pride ourselves on our nurturing environment.”

“See that you do. Because if I hear even a whisper of unhappiness, if I find she’s been treated ‘anyhow’ as you say, your principal will hear from me. And so will her father. And believe me,” she leaned closer to Mrs. Gable, “Ethan D’Arden has ways of making people regret their choices. You do not want to cross him.”

I shivered. Ethan D’Arden. That name sounded big and scary.

Mrs. Gable swallowed hard. “Understood, Mrs. D’Arden. Completely understood. Nora will be an absolute delight.”

The mean lady looked at Nora, then back at Mrs. Gable. “Good. Now, where will she sit?” She scanned the room, her gaze sweeping over all of us. When her eyes landed on me, they paused. “He looks… quiet enough. She can sit there.” She pointed a long, bony finger at the empty desk beside mine.

My heart jumped. Beside me? What if she was mean too?

Mrs. Gable quickly ushered Nora towards my table. “Perfect! Nora, sweetie, this is Liam. He’s a very bright boy. You’ll be great friends, I’m sure.”

The lady in yellow gave one last stern look to Mrs. Gable. “Remember what I said.” Then she turned and, without another word to Nora, marched out of the classroom, letting the door slam shut behind her. The sound echoed, making everyone jump.

Mrs. Gable let out a long breath. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “Alright, everyone. Back to addition!” She forced a smile, but it looked wobbly.

Nora slowly walked over to the desk beside me. She didn’t look at me. She just stared at her shoes, a fancy pair with little sparkly buckles. Her face was still sad. She sat down, her whole body hunched.

I leaned over a little. “Hi,” I whispered. “My name’s Liam.”

She didn’t answer. Didn’t even look up. Just kept staring at the floor.

Mrs. Gable cleared her throat. “Now, who can tell me what two plus two equals?” She looked around, her eyes landing on Nora. “Nora, dear, why don’t you try?”

Nora’s head shot up. Her eyes went wide again. She looked at Mrs. Gable, then at me, then at the floor. She didn’t know. I could tell. My stomach felt funny. All the other kids were starting to smirk.

“Nora?” Mrs. Gable prompted gently.

Nora slowly stood up, her little hands gripping the edge of her desk. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She just shook her head slightly.

Then it started. A giggle. Then another. Soon, a few kids were snickering, covering their mouths. One boy pointed at her. “She doesn’t know!” he blurted out.

Nora’s face crumpled. Her eyes welled up. A tear trickled down her cheek, then another. She was crying. Silent, hiccuping sobs. The snickers grew louder.

My cheeks felt hot. That wasn't fair. She just got here. I felt a pang in my chest, a feeling like when my mom left. I reached out and gently touched her arm. It felt small and cold.

“Hey,” I whispered, real soft. “Don’t cry.”

She looked at me, her eyes red and swimming with tears.

“It’s okay,” I told her. “It’s just… two plus two.” I cleared my throat, trying to sound like Mom when she explained things. “It’s four. See, if you have two apples, and then you get two more apples, how many do you have?”

She sniffled, still crying, but her eyes were glued to mine.

“Look,” I said, and grabbed two of my crayons. “One, two.” Then I grabbed two more. “One, two. Now, count all of them together. One, two, three, four.” I held them out for her to see.

She stared at the crayons, then at me. Her sobs quieted a little.

Mrs. Gable, who had been trying to shush the other kids, finally managed to get their attention. “Class, that is enough! Nora is new. We are kind here.” She gave the laughing kids a stern look. “Liam, thank you for being a good friend.”

I smiled a little, feeling proud. I was being like Superman.

“It’s four,” I told Nora again, very gently. “See? It’s not hard. I can teach you. If you want.”

She looked at me for a long moment, a tear still clinging to her eyelash. Then, very slowly, she nodded. A tiny, almost invisible nod. But I saw it. And for the first time since Mom left, the loud clock on the wall didn't sound so angry anymore.