It was a Friday afternoon, on the brink of Spring, and Mrs. Patterson’s first-grade class was particularly antsy today because the sun had finally decided to make an appearance. They sat like wiggly chess pieces on a colorful broad, chatting with each other about their weekend plans. Even little Sammy, who wasn’t really all that excited about the weekend, found herself caught up in the joy of her classmates. She was usually quiet and always the one that Mrs. Patterson could count on to be paying attention; not today, though, she was just as talkative and distracted as those around her.

Normally, this wouldn’t have even fazed Mrs. Patterson; she would have just calmly gotten the class’s attention and went on with her lesson. Today, however, she found herself increasingly annoyed with her class. All of her patience was used up before she had even come to class today, so she had none left to give. Even though it was unfair, she found herself funneling her anger towards little Sammy. She was disappointed that even the one student she could always count on was being unruly.

Before she could even think about what she was doing, Mrs. Patterson scolded in a voice that was just barely below yelling, “Sammy, I was not aware of the rules changing about talking when I’m trying to start a lesson.”

Sammy felt her heart lurch, tears start to prick her eyes, as her breath hitched in her lungs. She wasn’t upset that she had gotten in trouble, she knew that she had been talking when she wasn’t supposed to, but she couldn’t help it, this was how she reacted whenever anyone raised their voice at her.

Mrs. Patterson saw the pain on Sammy’s face and immediately softened with regret. She couldn’t take out her own pain on her students. They were not to blame for her husband’s actions. “Sammy, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have raised my voice. I was frustrated, but that is no excuse.”

Sammy was only able to nod; she was still feeling distressed, so that was all she could muster. Her friend gave her a quick hug, and she was grateful. Mrs. Patterson gave one last wary glance at Sammy, but now that the class was silent, she decided to go about her lesson to take the attention off of Sammy.

The rest of the afternoon went by quickly. As the students ran about collecting their coats and backpacks, Mrs. Patterson apologized to Sammy once again. Sammy accepted and hugged Mrs. Patterson. Even if she had yelled at Sammy, she felt safer in Mrs. Patterson’s class then she did anywhere else.

Sammy dragged her feet to the bus; she liked being at school much more than being at home. Friday’s were always sad for her because she knew she had to stay two whole days at home without the break at the sanctuary that was school. She soaked up her last few minutes of fun on the bus, chatting with her best friend until it was her stop. She peeked out the window to see if her mom was there to greet her; she wasn’t, which was never a surprise but always a disappointment.

Sammy got off the bus, waving goodbye to her bus driver, whose warm smile gave Sammy an added boost of strength. She and the other kids that got off at the same spot diverged paths, and she made the journey of about a block to her house. She only made it to the second step of her house, when her fears of why her mom hadn’t come to get her were confirmed. Even out here, she could hear her father’s voice screaming insults and accusations at her mom through the thin walls of their old house. Sammy saw crumpled up beer cans scattered around the porch that hadn’t been there this morning, and her heart sank, even if this was nothing new.

Sammy knew the drill. She diverted course and headed to the back yard. She climbed up the ladder of the treehouse her dad had built her during one of her brief bouts of sobriety. She pulled out a coloring book and wrapped one of the blankets her mom had stashed up her for her around herself and began to pass the time until her father was passed out or had stormed out and she and her mom would have a brief moment of safety until the next time.