third degree yearns

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Arrhythmia by Chapter

Cassie McKay x OC

A/N:

hiiiii, long time no see. I'm so sorry for the long wait between chapters. Life has been life-ing and the creative block has been real.

Fair warning for this chapter, it's a little heavy, especially compared to the tone of the previous chapters. TW for mentions of child neglect. I truly don't know how I feel about this chapter, but I could agonize over things forever, so I just need to post it. Every time I read it back, it's like my brain isn't processing the words, so maybe I just need some time where I'm not staring at it lol. I hope you enjoy, and I hope to be updating more frequently again, although I'm about to move halfway across the country in a few weeks, so it may be jussst a second.

Thank you all for all of the incredible comments and encouragements you've left on this little story. I have people asking me about updates constantly and saying the kindest things, and it really means the world to me.

Song: In the Margins by Ani DiFranco

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If you were being honest, you were expecting your newfound truce with Melissa to last all of three seconds. You definitely had more respect for the short woman and you hoped she could say the same about you. But you’d almost exclusively seen the hot-headed and abrasive side of her. You didn’t have much confidence in your shaky alliance.

And yet, to your utter surprise, you made it to lunch without a single argument or rude remark. Now that the older woman was actually willing to communicate with you, the morning passed quickly in a flurry of worksheets, raised hands, and coloring pages. 

She hadn’t been kidding about letting you teach Science, either. The red-head sauntered up to your desk and placed her lesson plan in front of you. “We’re gonna brush up on the water cycle today, both grades could use it,” she tells you, crossing her arms and leaning her hip against your desk. Her cat eye glasses were perched carefully on top of her head. Gesturing toward the binder with a nod, she said, “Go ahead and look it over, lemme know if ya have any questions. I’ll stick around and grade some papers back here so I can step in if ya start to flounder up there,” she says with a sly twinkle in her eyes. You could tell she was teasing, and you wondered if she was making a concerted effort to make it obvious. You find yourself teasing her right back. 

“Oh, you’d like to watch me fail, wouldn’t you, Schemmenti?” you say mischievously, shaking your head and pulling her lesson plan toward you to glance over it. “Prepare to be amazed.” She hits you with a crafty look, a smirk gracing her lips as she shifts her weight off of your desk and back to her feet. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she says, her tone light. It felt like Melissa was genuinely sizing you up for the first time since you’d met. You feel something swelling in your chest, a sort of determination. You realize with no small amount of surprise that you want the fiery woman’s approval. 

“Okay my little eagles,” she calls out to the class as she moves away from your desk. “Put away your maps and get out your science folders.” Responses were mixed as the sound of papers shuffling filled the room; some cheered in anticipation of their favorite subject, while others groaned in disdain. 

“I know,” she responded to the scattered groans. “Some of youse aren’t big on science. But you’ve got a special guest teaching today, so I want you to be on your best behavior, ‘kay?”

You may have spent very little time actually getting to know Melissa, but you made up for it with how well you’d gotten to know her kids. As you made your way up to the front of the class, you shot Melissa wink. She snorted humorously in response.

The lesson went even better than you’d hoped. You knew exactly how to keep them engaged by adjusting your teaching style in the moment when attention started to drift. You kept things entertaining by being animated and using funny voices, and although you’d rather die than admit it, you couldn’t help but feel pride when you caught a deeper chuckle mixed in with the chorus of giggles. You were so engrossed in the lesson, you were completely caught off guard by the bell ringing, signaling the end of the day. 

Melissa jumped, apparently also having lost track of time. “Okay everybody, clean up and grab your bags quick, okay? Don’t forget about your math homework!” The students wasted no time, eager to end their school days and go home. In the midst of the chaotic flurry, you made your way to her and caught her eye as she stood from behind her desk.

“Well?” you asked expectantly, fighting to keep a cocky smirk off of your face.

She gave you a quick up and down that made your cheeks warm. She was playfully sizing you up, pretending to think about what to say. Her eyes landed on yours as she finally replied, “Not too shabby, kid.” 

“Not too shabby?” you said incredulously, crossing your arms. “That was awesome and you know it!” 

“Alright,” she relented with a chuckle, mirroring your body language by sassily crossing her arms and popping her hip. “I guess it was pretty awesome.” You couldn’t keep the grin off of your face then, the pride swelling in your chest. “What are you subbing around town for when you got the chops to teach your own class?”

“I like the variety,” you admitted. “I get to spend time making connections at different schools and I get to work with kids of all ages. I even like middle school,” you said with a knowing smile. “Everyone always says teaching middle schoolers is the worst, but I think it’s because they remind us of how embarrassing we used to be.”

“Speak for yourself, I’ve always been cool,” Melissa says confidently. Then she shoots you a grin and says, “I bet you were a total dweeb.”

“Hey!” You say, immediately indignant. “I wasn’t a dweeb!” You wrack your brain for some kind of defense before begrudgingly muttering, “I was a nerd, and there’s a distinct difference.” Her genuine laugh brought heat to your cheeks; it was a sound you’d be playing on repeat in your head for days.

—---------------------

The rest of the week was much the same as your Monday afternoon. Things were going smoothly, and you and Melissa operated in tandem like a well oiled machine. You’d grown closer as colleagues, trading jokes and even offering the occasional word of encouragement here or there when one of you sensed the other becoming frustrated. You found yourself thoroughly enjoying the red head’s company now, and you suspected she felt similarly. 

It was exactly a week later you sat at your desk during the kids’ lunchtime, your own lunchbox in front of you, forgotten as you graded spelling tests. Melissa was on lunch duty with the class, which meant you were afforded at least half an hour of blissful silence. You loved your job, but you were only human. 

Movement near the doorway caught your attention and you glanced up. Your eyes landed on one of your third grade students, Tyler, lingering in the doorway, gaze glued to his shoelaces. Your eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Hey Tyler,” you said cheerily, smiling. “What’s up? You’re missing out on your favorite class of the day: lunch.”

Tyler didn’t respond. He kept his eyes trained on his shoes, hands fidgeting nervously in front of him. Your eyebrows drew together in concern. “Tyler?” you prompted again gently. “Are you okay?”

He mumbled something in response that you didn’t quite catch. Slowly, you stood up from your chair and made your way over to him, kneeling down so you were at eye level. “Can you say that again, bud? I didn’t hear what you said. You know, losing my hearing in my old age,” you joked. You saw his lips twitch in spite of himself. The kids loved any joke about a teacher’s age. 

He was silent for a moment longer before he muttered, “I’m not hungry.” You grew increasingly concerned, worried he might be feeling sick, but before you could reach a hand up to feel his forehead, a loud rumble emanated from his stomach. You raised an eyebrow before stating, “Sounds to me like you are hungry.” He held a small hand against his stomach, his little face screwed up in annoyance at his stomach’s betrayal. “Is there something else going on, Tyler?” you urged.

“I got in trouble for stealing Tamika’s lunch,” he admitted reluctantly. 

You frowned. “Why did you steal Tamika’s lunch?” 

“Because I ate all of mine and I was still hungry,” he replies. He sounded remorseful, whether because he was caught or because he was really sorry, you weren’t sure. But something felt off to you. Call it a spidey-sense, or just plain intuition, something in your gut told you there was a bigger picture here you weren’t seeing. The lunches at Abbott were far from perfect, but the lunchroom staff worked hard to make certain each of these kids had enough food on the table. Maybe Tyler was hitting a growth spurt… 

You watched him fidget, obviously expecting to be reprimanded by you. Instead, you asked, “What did you have for breakfast this morning?” He looked up at you finally, not expecting the question. He glanced away just as quickly, suddenly finding the multiplication table pinned to the wall interesting. “Tyler?” you nudged gently.

“I didn’t eat breakfast,” he says quietly. You felt your stomach sink with dread and anticipation as you asked, “Well, when was the last time you ate? What did you have for dinner last night?” He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. Your heart grew heavy with the realization that it was likely that Tyler’s only meal of the day was the free lunch he was getting at Abbott. 

For the first time since you started substitute teaching, you were at a loss as to what to do. As a sub, it wasn’t often you encountered situations like this. You never stayed in one spot long enough. But you’d been at Abbott going on three weeks now, which was longer than you were used to.

Surely you were meant to report this. Calling CPS would create a huge upheaval in his life. But if he was being neglected, you needed to tell someone. You felt a familiar pressure behind your eyes as your thoughts started to spiral, and you stood abruptly, taking a few deep breaths to fight off the building tears. One thing you knew for certain, you couldn’t cry in front of him. Your eyes darted around the room as your brain kicked into overdrive, trying to figure out what exactly you should do. They landed on your untouched lunch.

You bit your lip, knowing that what you were about to do wasn’t strictly allowed. Teachers giving students food was iffy, but especially in instances where the food wasn’t approved by the administration for the whole class. Still, you had a student in front of you who was possibly being neglected at home; how could you not feed him while you figured things out? One more audible grumble from Tyler’s stomach sealed the deal, and you turned back to your desk, unzipping your lunchbox and pulling out your peanut butter and jelly sandwich. 

You hesitated briefly, glancing up at Tyler. “You’re not allergic to peanuts, are you?”

He had been watching you as you’d moved, and when you asked him this, he shook his head emphatically. You extended your hand, holding the sandwich out to him. “You can have this, if you want it. It’s a PB&J.” He stood still, staring at the offered food, before slowly walking over. 

“I can have it?” he asked hesitantly, and your heart cracked a bit inside of your chest. He’d come to this room thinking he’d get in even more trouble. 

“You can have it,” you confirmed, forcing a smile to hide the crushing weight of the revelations you’d just made. You didn’t know what to do, you didn’t know if what he’d revealed to you was even enough to go on, but you knew he was hungry, and you knew you had a responsibility to take care of these kids. You could fix one problem in the moment; you’d be damned if you didn’t do just that. 

He tentatively took the sandwich from you and begane unwrapping the plastic wrap. As he did so, he mumbled a quiet, “Thank you.” You held that smile in place, trying your hardest to make him feel better.

“You’re welcome, Tyler. How about you go sit at your desk, and I’ll take you out to recess when you’re done, okay?” He gave you a quick nod, already biting into the sandwich as he moved to sit. You could feel your pulse ringing in your ears, your brain trying to make sense of the information you’d just learned. You were a mandated reporter, and in reality, you didn’t need anything other than suspicion to report to Child Protective Services. But it wasn’t a decision to take lightly - there were any number of ways a report like that could play out. 

It briefly crossed your mind that Tyler could be lying, but even though you’d spent a short time with him, you had a lot of experience with kids. There was a difference between a kid who was lying to get something they wanted and a kid who wasn’t telling the truth because they were scared to. Tyler was quiet. He played with the other kids, but he didn’t seem to have one group of friends he stayed with. He struggled with his school work, but a lot of kids struggled with school work. 

As you watched him, you noted the fit of his school uniform - it was loose on him. That didn’t mean he was malnourished; a lot of kids at Abbott wore hand-me-down uniforms from older siblings because the uniforms were expensive. You wondered if you really were reading into things too much, but the gnawing feeling in your gut told you it didn’t matter; you had to tell someone. 

You’d never done anything like this before. But surely Melissa would know what to do. You wondered if she’d ever noticed anything. She was one of the best teachers at this school, maybe one of the best you’d ever met; you find it hard to believe she wouldn’t have noticed anything. But this wasn’t a typical school year for her at Abbott. She had twice as many kids to keep track of, twice as much work to grade… it’s not impossible to think something like this may have slipped by her.

So deep in thought and trying to make sense of what you should do, you didn’t notice Tyler approach your desk until he was right in front of you. You jumped when he spoke, pulling you out of your ruminations. 

“I’m done eating,” he said.

“Looks like it! Was that sandwich okay?” you asked gently as you stood. He nodded his head enthusiastically.

“It was the best PB&J ever. You should open a PB&J food truck!”

“Oh, I should, should I?” you replied, giggling in spite of everything. “Would you be my first customer?”

“Yeah!” he said shyly as he followed you into the hallway and toward the parking lot where recess took place. “I would eat there all the time.”

“You’ll be the first to know when I open. Maybe I’ll even name it after you, since it was your idea. ‘Tyler’s PB&J Paradise!’ How does that sound?” you asked.

“That sounds good,” he said, a small smile on his face.

You opened the door for him, stepping outside into the parking lot. You looked to your right to see Melissa and Janine on recess duty. Janine was talking about something or other, and Melissa was pretending to listen as she watched the kids play, her arms folded. “Hey, Jeremy! No shovin’!” she shouted, her powerful voice carrying across the parking lot. She glanced over at you, surprise on her face as she noticed Tyler with you. “Hey, what’s goin’ on?” she said with a polite smile. She leaned into you, her lips close to your ear, her warm breath brushing your skin.  “Sorry I didn’t give you a heads up, but I figured you’d have some words of advice for Tyler about how stealin’ lunches is wrong,” she whispered slyly. 

You scoffed grumpily. “I never stole anyone’s lunch,” you whispered back, exasperated. She just chuckled, leaning out of your space again. You tried not to think about wanting her to stay in it. As she pulled away, you glanced down at Tyler, your heart sinking again.

“Hey bud,” you said, a gentle hand on his back. “Why don’t you go have some fun, okay?” He nodded in response and turned to go. But something stopped him, and he turned back. He didn’t look at you as he said, “Thank you for the sandwich.” Then he darted away, running toward a group of boys playing soccer on the far side of the parking lot. 

You only watched him for a moment before Melissa’s voice drew your attention again. “What’d he say?” she asked. Her tone was laced with a bit of confusion. You looked at her, her eyebrows drawn together and a small frown on her lips. 

“Actually, do you think I could talk to you in private for a second?” you asked her, glancing toward Janine, who was trying to look like she wasn’t listening. She failed miserably when she answered before Melissa could. 

“I can watch the kids!” she said cheerily. Melissa, faced away from Janine, rolled her eyes affectionately. 

“Alright,” she said, turning to go inside. You reached the door before she did, holding it open for her. She shot you a look with a raised eyebrow, and without thinking, you replied with a nervous joke. “I always open the door for ladies.” This caused her to snort and crack a smile. 

“Suave,” she said teasingly. Your face felt warm as you stepped into the air conditioning. 

You both made your way to your classroom, your pulse picking up with the anxiety of the hard conversation you were about to have. As you stepped into the classroom, you shut the door behind you. Melissa leaned against her desk, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “So, whaddaya wanna talk about?”

Your eyes locked onto hers, emerald and bright. You felt shaky as you finally allowed yourself to release some of the dread and worry you’d been feeling. One steadying breath before you stated, “I think Tyler might be neglected at home.” 

Immediate concern crossed Melissa’s face. “What?” she asked. “What makes you say that?”

“When he came into the room, he tried to tell me he wasn’t hungry. But I could hear his stomach growling, so I asked him what was really going on. He told me he tried to take Tamika’s lunch because he ate his and was still hungry. I thought maybe he’s in a growth spurt or something, but… he told me the last time he’d eaten was lunch yesterday.” Your voice gradually became more distressed as you continued. “He’s so quiet, he struggles with his school work, his clothes are big on him, but I never thought anything of it. You can explain away all of those things - he’s shy, plenty of kids struggle in school, hand-me-downs. But when I looked at him, when he told me? He wasn’t lying about not eating, Melissa. I gave him my sandwich to hold him over, but I have to report this, right?” Your chest was rising rapidly as you became more worked up.

She was silent for a moment, digesting everything you’d just told her. Finally, she spoke. “You gave him your own food?”

“What?” you asked incredulously. “That’s what you took from that?” Her tone was pointed, and you felt your anger rising. You just told her one of her students might be neglected at home, and she was reprimanding you for feeding him?

“I heard what you said, kid. It’s serious. You shouldn’ta given him your food-” 

“I asked him if he was allergic to peanuts before I gave it to him!” you cut her off angrily, volume rising. “Sorry my priority was feeding the hungry kid who isn’t being fed at home! Do you even hear yourself right now?”

“Hey!” Melissa replied sharply, moving forward slightly as she shifted her weight. “Can I finish what I’m tryna say here? I’m not writin’ ya off!” There was color in her cheeks, something you hadn’t seen since your last huge fight. You could feel your control slipping, the indignation and disbelief at her response making you furious. But before you could blow up everything you’d both built over the last two weeks, she cut you off. 

“ You shouldn’ta given him your own food,” she bit out, “because we have a system here for stuff like that.” The words hit you, and as they registered in your mind, you deflated like air being let out of a balloon. She raised an eyebrow as if daring you to speak before continuing, her tone a bit more subdued. “We got an arrangement with the lunch ladies. If we think a kid isn’t gettin’ enough to eat, we set ‘em up to get somethin’ extra at the end of each day to take home, and then we file a report with CPS. Givin’ kids food from home is a liability - I know ya asked about allergies, but what if he got sick and his parents found out it was from the food you gave him? That’s a mess ya don’t wanna get caught up in.” 

You let her words sink in, your shoulders sagging as the fight completely leaves your body. “It doesn’t happen all that often,” she continues. “But I’ve been teaching long enough, this isn’t the first time something like this has come up.” You roll her words over in your mind, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. 

After a few moments, you mutter, “Sorry. I’m not handling this very well.” You glance up and are surprised by what you see. Melissa’s looking at you in a way she hasn’t before - soft, gentle. Understanding. Empathetic. She sees how hard this realization is for you, how difficult it is being confronted with a student who isn’t getting the love and care they deserve. She understands because she’s been there before. You feel that pressure behind your eyes return, and quickly glance away from her, fighting to keep it contained. “So... we do need to report it.”

“Yeah,” she confirms quietly. “We gotta report it. Even if it’s just a suspicion. It doesn’t mean they’ll go knockin’ down his door, but it’s a paper trail and it’s important.” You’re both silent for a moment, the weight of everything smothering. Then, Melissa scoffs self deprecatingly. “Can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots. I shoulda caught this, paid more attention to him or somethin’.” Your eyes snap up to her face, the self-admonishment clear as day. 

“Stop,” you said firmly, stepping forward without even realizing it. “Don’t do that. Any other year, you’d have picked up on it. But you’ve got twice as many kids, twice as much responsibility. Besides, there’s no guarantee he’s actually being neglected at home…” you trail off. That sounds weak, even to your ears. Still, you won’t have her blaming herself. “And that’s my job, right? I’m here to help you.”

Her green eyes meet yours, still soft. She offers you a small smile, one that doesn’t quite meet her eyes, but a smile nevertheless. You give her one in return, but it drops as you somberly confess to her. “I’ve never had to file a report like this before.” Her eyes search your face, her brows drawn together compassionately. Before you realize what’s happening, she reaches out and grabs your arm, giving it a firm squeeze.

“I’ll do it with ya,” she says, her voice resolute and steady. “The rest of today isn’t gonna be an easy one. But when it’s over, we’ll go talk to the lunch ladies, and then report our suspicions.” Her thumb rubs soothingly against your skin. “I know it’s hard. You’re doing the right thing.” One final squeeze, and she lets you go. You felt the absence of the contact acutely.

Still holding her gaze, aware of the pounding in your chest and unsure if it’s from her or from today’s events, you earnestly murmur a quiet thank you. “Don’t mention it,” she replies gently. When you woke up this morning, you never would have guessed the turn today would take. Your heart ached for this child, and for any other kids like him. Most of the students at Abbott had good lives, families who cared. But there were those who didn’t, and you now had to grapple with the fact that there was only so much you could do to help them.