#reading elementary school assembly programs

“It’s your lucky day, Peña!” 

Javier glanced up from the pile of paperwork scattered across his desk to acknowledge the voice coming from the doorway to his office. 

“What do you want, Carter?” 

Javier's voice half grunted in response, his eyes shifting back down to the pile of papers on his desk. In his doorway stood his office mate, Detective Eric Carter. When Javier began his new position with the Laredo County Sheriff's Department 4 months ago, it took everything in him to keep from calling his new co-worker Steve. At a glance, he looked just like his old DEA partner. Tall, lanky, with a wiry head of blonde hair and bright blue eyes. 30 seconds into meeting Carter, it didn’t take long to realize looks were about the only thing he and Steve Murphy had in common. Eric Carter was a human ray of fucking sunshine, and his chipper demeanor was blinding Javier this early in the morning. 

“It’s your turn!” Carter replied in a sing-songy voice, slapping a red file folder onto Javier’s desk, covering the papers he had been sorting through. Javier picked up the folder and crinkled his brows in confusion. He turned the cover towards him, holding it just far enough away so that his squint trying to read its contents wasn’t too obvious. God, he just needed to give up and buy reading glasses already. 

As he got the folder just the right distance away from his face, he gave Carter a look that said absolutely fucking not. The folder read D.A.R.E school assembly lessons, with a picture of the Lion mascot giving a big thumbs up in his black D.A.R.E shirt. The office had recently been recruited by Laredo Public School District to start giving presentations to the Elementary schools, using the program aptly abbreviated for Drug Abuse Resistance Education. 

“Just take away the “R” and rearrange some letters and it spells DEA!” Carter laughed to himself. “It’s like it was made for you!” 

“No.” 

“Sorry Peña, you’re bottom of the totem pole this week. We’ve all done our time, and you’re the last one left in the office who has yet to go present. It’s not even that bad, you just basically go talk to these kids for an hour and tell them drugs are bad, don’t do them, yadda, yadda, yadda, you get the gist, and then it’s done. Piece of cake!” 

“I’m not fucking going.” Javier scoffed. “I have shit I have to get done.” Gesturing in annoyance to the piles of papers on his desk, now in disarray from the folder being thrown on his desk. 

“Not a choice, Mr. Peña.” 

A new voice passed by the doorway, and a much broader frame stood behind Carter’s. Chief Deputy Dean Morris, had joined the conversation, knowing that it wouldn’t end easily for Detective Carter if he kept harassing Javier about it. Morris was head of the department, and what he said, went. Coming from a background in the Air Force, Morris knew how “civilian” a position at a sheriff’s department must have felt for Javier after his time in the DEA. 5 years ago, it seemed fair to think that neither of them would have assumed paperwork, mundane training programs, and now, arguing over talking to 10 year olds about the dangers of doing drugs would have played any importance in their jobs. 

 “Right of passage. Ever since the school board dropped this on us last year, we’ve all done our time. Believe me, no one wants to do it, but like Carter said, today is your lucky day!” Morris’s voice oozed with sarcasm, knowing that Javier would absolutely hate every second of what he was about to have to do. 

“You lucked out on your day to go too, Peña. It looks like you get to go to the school with the hot teach-OW! Hey! What was that for?!” Morris had slapped Carter’s shoulder before he could get out the rest of his sentence. 

“Keep it in your pants, okay Carter?” 

Carter let out a huff of defeat. “I’m just saying, he could have gotten worse days to go…” 

“Just read from the notes, let the kids ask a couple of questions at the end and then you’re on your way. Easy peasy. When you get to the school office they’ll let you know where to go.” 

Javier opened his mouth to rebuttal, but before he could even get out a word, Morris held up his hand to stop him. 

“Not a choice. I’ll have Carter help you finish sorting paperwork, so don’t try to bullshit me and tell me that you have too much work to get done.” 

Javier let out a sigh of frustration that was a little louder than he intended it to be. His hands rested on his forehead as he rubbed the bridge of his nose before replying. 

“Fine. But this is one and done.” 

“Good man.” Morris reached over Javier’s desk and gave him a pat on the shoulder. He and Carter started to make their way out of Javier’s office when Morris turned his head over the back of his shoulder. 

“Carter’s right about the teacher, too. She’s a catch.” He winked and shut the door behind him. 

Javier gathered his things and made his way through the office, passing by Detective Carter’s desk. 

“Have funnnnnnn! Say ‘hi’ to the hot teacher for me!” Carter mocked, twinkling his fingers, waving at Javier. 

Without saying a word, Javier flipped him off, and kept walking. 

Settling into his truck, Javier set down his belongings in his passenger seat, and opened up the red file folder to see where his unexpected journey was taking him. 

This is fucking ridiculous He mouthed to himself as he cranked up the AC in the truck with one hand, and rummaged the other through the items on the seat. Reaching next to him, he grabbed and opened the folder, and grazed his index finger down the inside cover, where a schedule of schools, dates, and times were printed. At the bottom, he found 

5/27/97- Alma Pierce Elementary School, 12:00-12:30 pm, school cafeteria

 Javier’s heart sank to the bottom of his stomach. He read the line several times, re-checking the location and date to make sure what he read was true. 

Fuck. 

To any of his other co-workers who had been tasked with giving one of these D.A.R.E. presentations, the elementary school they were assigned to that day most likely held little to no significance. Of course, out of the 16 elementary schools in the Laredo Public School District, Javier was assigned to the one that held the most significance to him. 

The school that his mother taught at for her entire teaching career before she passed away. 

Since returning home from Colombia, Javier had been avoiding human contact like the plague. He had returned as somewhat of a “hometown hero” after his accomplishments with the DEA but couldn’t have felt further from it. He had become Laredo’s hottest topic. 

“What was it like to help catch Escobar?! The Cali Cartel?!” 

“We’re so proud of you, the DEA couldn’t have done it without you!”

“When are you going to come over and tell us all about Colombia? We want to know everything!” 

Each question, compliment and conversation about his time in South America was like a knife to his heart, slowly twisting with each word that came out of someone’s mouth. He could feel the guilt and burden of his time away growing heavier and heavier as he politely smiled through these conversations. 

But worse than the strangers who felt entitled to berate Javier about his time in Colombia, were his friends and family who he had been actively avoiding since returning home. Besides his father, Javier hadn’t seen anyone close to him since his mother’s funeral 8 years ago. It hurt Javier knowing that he had returned to Laredo a changed man, haunted by the things he had seen and done. His mother’s closest friends, those that she worked with at Alma Pierce Elementary School, had promised to fulfill Lucia Peña’s dying wish that they would look out for Javi and made sure that he came home okay. 

Well, Javier was home. He wasn’t quite sure how to break it to them that he wasn’t really okay. 

As he drove and parked in front of the school building, Javier’s heart began to beat heavier in his chest. His fingers drummed on the steering wheel as he started at the entrance to the school. He couldn’t decide if the feeling swirling around in his stomach was comfort or terror, knowing that Alma Pierce Elementary looked exactly the same as it did the last time he was here 9 years ago with his mother. 

He did know that part of that feeling definitely had to be terror, as he began to think about the fact he was about to be interrogated relentlessly by his late mother’s closest friends. Might as well sign these women up to work for the DEA- they were probably more terrifying than anyone Javier had encountered in his time working there. 

After a few more deep breaths, Javier gathered his things out of his truck and headed towards the main doors. Each footstep felt like he was walking through wet cement, questioning if it was too late to turn around.

Practically tip toeing in to the office, hoping to be as inconspicuous as possible, Javier let out a soft “Hi, I’m from the sheriff's department, I’m here for-“ 

Before he could even finish his sentence, the office secretary, a tiny and graying Señora Gutierez was thrusting her arms across the threshold of the office desk to wrap Javier in an impressively strong hug. 

“JAVIER PEÑA. I cannot believe it’s you! oh my sweet mijo, look at you! The older you get, the more like Chucho you look, dios mio! Why haven’t you stopped by?! We have all missed you so much, what have you been doing? It is so good to see you!” 

Here we go.

“Hola, Señora.” Javier half grunted from how tight he was being squeezed. “It’s nice to see you too.” 

“I have lots to ask but I know you need to go, or they will know that this old woman has been running her mouth, making you late.” Señora Gutiérrez began shooing her hand, as to send Javier on his way. 

Javier chuckled. He felt his body begin to ease slightly, letting the familiarity of friendly faces bring him a small sense of comfort. 

“I would hope after this VERY LONG time that you have not been to see your mamà’s dearest friends, you still remember where the cafeteria is?” She gave Javier a playful grin.

“Sí, Señora.” 

“Everyone will be so happy to see you, mi amor. Now go, or everyone will be after me for keeping you!” 

Grabbing his things, Javier made his way down the bustling hallway. Tiny faces stared up at his, as he shuffled his way towards the cafeteria doors. There, he was greeted by a sea of children chatting amongst themselves and 3 smiling faces, patiently waiting for his arrival. 

“JAVI!” 

Out of any of the faces he was bound to see today, these were the 3 he would recognize anywhere. The ladies who stood before him were the fellow 3rd grade teachers who had taught alongside his mother for almost 20 years. 

The ladies surrounded him in a bear hug, Javier quietly noting to himself that he had definitely reached his hug quota for the next several weeks. 

“It’s so good to see you, Javi.” The first of the 3 women spoke, her words sweet like honey. Linda Garcia was short and stout, her gray bangs brushing over the brim of her glasses as she looked up at Javier. Linda had always had a soft spot for Javi, and reminded him the most of his mother. 

“It’s good to see you t-“ 

“PENDEJO. WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?! WHY HAVE YOU NOT CALLED?! WE SWORE TO YOUR LATE MOTHER THAT WE WOULD TAKE CARE OF YOU, AND IF IT WASN’T FOR CHUCHO KEEPING US UPDATED TH-” 

“Maria, let the boy breathe, this is the first time you’re seeing him in years, and this is the route you’re going to take? Dios Mio.” 

Standing next to Linda were her 2 partners in crime, Maria Rogers and Estelle Lopez. 

If you didn’t know Maria Rogers, you would be shocked to see the ferocity that came out of such a tiny woman. Javier’s mother used to refer to her “el vòlcan”- a matching nickname for her fiery personality. 

Estelle, on the other hand, was one of the most soft spoken people that Javier had ever meant. If she had something to say, he knew it was time to listen. 

“Hi everyone, it’s really great to see all of you.” Javier meant it. As overwhelmed and flustered as he was, it brought him peace to know after the hell that these last 8 years had been, some things never change. 

“MRS. ROGERSSSSSSS. WHEN IS THIS GONNA START?! I’M HUNGRY AND I KNOW LUNCH IS AFTER THIS.” 

“BE QUIET, MICHAEL. YOU KNOW WE’RE STILL WAITING FOR ONE MORE CLASS. YOU’RE SO ANNOYING.” 

“AM NOT!” 

“AM TOO!” 

Chatter and fidgeting amongst the 3rd graders instantaneously increased, the crowd of children now growing restless. 

“Oi, these niños will be the death of me, thank goodness this school is almost done.” Maria mumbled under her breath, the other 2 teachers rolling their eyes and laughing in agreement. “We’re just waiting on one more class, but they should be here any minute.” 

Overhearing the conversations shouted across the cafeteria, Agent Carter’s voice wandered through Javier’s thoughts. 

“You get the school with the hot teacher!” 

Obviously, Carter was not referring to the 3 women who stood before him. Although he wasn’t one for crude office banter, Javier couldn’t help but wonder if Carter’s statement really held true. With a genuine curiosity and a slight smirk on his face, he leaned back, arms crossed and asked, “Yeah wait, there’s still four 3rd grade teachers right?” 

The women all shot him a look that took him aback, their eyes burning a hole though Javier. 

“Jesus, you men really have a one track mind don’t you. Yes, I’m sure all of your friends from the department have been more than happy to tell you about our new teacher who just joined us. She is a sweet girl, and I am sure she is sick of getting harassed by all of you.” 

“Maria, I was just asking a quest-“ 

“Javier Jesus Peña, I have known you since before you were born. Wipe that smug look off your face, I know exactly why you asked the question”. 

Yup, things haven’t changed a bit. 

Before he could retort, the cafeteria doors began to swing open, followed by a long line of children, and you. 

“1, 2, 3, eyes on me!” 

“1, 2, eyes on you! 

God, the amount of times you’d had to repeat that phrase as the end of the school year approached, you might as well have gotten it tattooed on your forehead. 

“Okay 3rd graders, we’re already 5 minutes late for our assembly, and I’m sure the other classes are not going to be happy that we’re holding them up, and probably making us late for lunch after” 

The chatter stopped. With only a few days left in the school year, you were running out of ammunition to keep your class’s attention. At least the threat of being late to unch would work for now. 

A little hand shot up from the middle of the line you were about to trail down the hallway, like a mother duck with her babies following in line. “What’s your question, Jaun?” 

“Do you know if it’s gonna be the same guy as last time? He was kind of scary.” Mumbles of agreement came from the voices surrounding him. The Laredo Sheriff's Department had sent in a slew of their employees each week for these presentations, and you had been convinced none of them had ever even attempted to talk to a child. Last week’s presenter, Martin, Michales, something like that, had spent the large time of his presentation talking about getting murdered by the Cartel, leading to tears from many of your students, and a prompt request to not have him back. 

“I don’t know sweetie, it seems like there’s someone new who comes every week, but I sure hope it’s not him.” The class let out a small giggle. These were the moments you loved about your job as a teacher, especially now that you had moved to an older grade where your kids finally picked up on your subtle jokes with them. 

You had been with your class since after Christmas break, filling in as a long term sub for a 3rd grade teacher on maternity leave. The job followed an impromptu move from Chicago to Texas after breaking off your relationship with your boyfriend (regrettably, almost fiancé)  of 3 years, who had been cheating on you behind your back for 2 of them. You felt like an idiot that you hadn’t seen it coming, but it still hit you like a ton of bricks. Paul had plenty of red flags, but your optimistic demeanor and the mounting peer pressure of watching your friends get married and start their own families made you feel trapped. It still stung to think you would have settled for a miserable life with Paul out of the fear you wouldn’t find anyone else. 

 Desperate to get as far away from Illinois as possible, you packed your bags and made the nearly 4 day drive down to Laredo, Texas. Laredo,  a strange choice to many, but made nothing but complete sense to you. Your best friend since the 2nd grade, Sarah Alverez, had moved to Laredo your Freshman year of high school, her father accepting an agricultural engineering position in ranching country. You spent every summer until college visiting her and her family, having nothing but the fondest of memories for a sleepy town outside of San Antonio. It was a stark chance from the hustle and bustle of Chicago suburbia where you had spent your childhood. Long, carefree summer days made you promise yourself that if you ever did leave Chicago, you’d find yourself here. Well, you had made good on your promise, but for reasons that still made your stomach churn in gut-wrenching knots. 

You and your class journeyed down the hallway to the cafeteria. Thank god it was a short trip, because you were far too tired to put up with the bickering and shenanigans the back of your line often seemed to plague you with. Just as you were entering through the cafeteria doors, you promptly turned around, your body facing the line as you walked backwards further into the cafeteria. “Isabella and Jorge, keep your hands to yourself! You two know you’re not supposed to be in line togeth-” Before you could finish your sentence, the back of your body collided with one behind you that you hadn’t seen since turning around to stop a near WWE smackdown in the hallway. You had bumped into kids more than once who weren’t paying attention to their surroundings, but it became very clear, very quickly, that the body you had backed yourself into was not a child’s. 

The body you had backed yourself into was much taller and broader than yours. Two large hands firmly, but gently grasped around the middle of your upper arms to catch you without stumbling backwards any further. An overwhelming scent of cedarwood and sage cologne filled your senses. This obviously was not one of your coworkers, either. 

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorr-“ you started to apologize as you came to face the body that had stopped you in your tracks. Your apology halted as you were met by incredibly broad shoulders covered by a navy blue suit jacket. As your gaze continued upwards, the shoulders were followed by a strong square jawline and plush lips, the upper covered with an impeccable mustache. Continuing up, you were met with the most beautiful, deep chocolate brown eyes, whose soft stare soon met yours. There was no denying that this man was devilishly handsome. Realizing that you had most definitely been starting too long, you restated your apology. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were behind me.” Your eyes shifted away from his and darted down to the floor. 

A small smirk formed on his face as he looked down at you. He didn’t realize it, but he couldn’t help it. You were wearing a yellow sun dress that hit just above your knees, covered by a light washed denim jacket. Your dress swayed beautifully as he watched you take your last few steps backwards, making him question himself if he let you run into him on purpose. You smelled like vanilla and something sweet that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Pink embarrassment flooded your cheeks as a soft smile on your face met his. He now too realized that he had been staring a little too long, and that he still had his grasp on your arms as you had turned around to look at him. 

“No it’s okay.” He let out a small laugh under his breath. “I just didn’t want you to go too much further and trip over anything else.” He gently let his hands leave her arms, and watched as she brushed a piece of hair out of her face and looked back up at him. 

“Should we go sit down now?!” A small voice shouted from your line, causing you to snap back to reality, realizing that you had a line of children still standing behind you. 

“Yes, sorry sweetie” you replied, brushing your dress down back into place. “You guys can go find a spot behind Mrs. Rogers’ class.” Your class passed by you, paying no mind to the interaction that just took place between you and the man you had just bumped into. 

As you watched your class pass by, you turned back around to find the man still staring at you, causing your heart to palpably beat in your chest. The same strong hands that had caught you were now extended in your direction, offering a handshake to introduce himself. “I’m Javier Peña, uh Javi, actually” as your hand met his, realizing how small they felt in his grip. “I’m from the Laredo Sheriff's department, I uh, I’m the one that’s supposed to be doing the whole presentation thing today.” Your hand stayed in his as you introduced yourself. God, his hands were something else.

His grip loosened as your co-workers began to move towards you. You began to realize how hot your face felt, knowing that you were flushed with embarrassment not only from almost falling into a crowd of 10 year olds, but from how awe struck you were by the man who had caught you.

The three women on your 3rd grade team had taken you in as one of their own when you started your job here. They had been more than happy to step in to help you with whatever you needed, including trying to set you up with every single man your age that they knew. With the exception of the parade of overly forward sheriff's department members who had been at your school every Wednesday. Those 3 had no problem telling those men to fuck right off and leave you alone (in the nicest way possible.) The ladies slowly crept closer towards you, sly grins stretched across their faces as they giggled like school girls. 

“OH, so it looks like you met our sweet Javier!” Linda said with over exaggerated enthusiasm. 

“Sweetie, you’re SO good with the technology around here, you know how us old ladies are. Maybe you could help him set up the video he needs for his presentation today?” You knew damn well these women knew how to press play on a VCR. You grimaced your face at Maria. While you couldn’t see your face, you were absolutely positive your expression was screaming “Oh my God, could you please make it any more obvious that this man is insanely attractive and you don’t need to add to the embarrassment after I already ran into him like an idiot?!” 

“Yeah, of course, I’d be more than happy to help!” You pointed towards the stage that sat in front of the cafeteria. “Just come this way and I’ll show you how to set it up.” 

Following behind you, Javier leaned his head down towards yours. “Must be the most complicated VCR set up I’ve seen in a while.” 

You let out a giggle. “Yeah, they're all very sweet, but not the most skilled with anything that has to do with technology. When our principal had mentioned the idea of us potentially getting a computer lab, they just about had a heart attack. Setting up the TV to play a video should be no problem.” You gestured towards the stage at the front of the cafeteria where the TV cart was kept for presentations. He followed behind you, keeping a respectful distance.  Not respectful enough to keep himself from staring at the curve of your ass in your dress as you walked up the stage stairs. 

“Do you have the tape you need to show?” Your words went in one ear and out the other. Carter and Morris weren’t kidding. He hated to admit that those idiots were right about anything, but God, you were beautiful. His gaze was locked on you as squatted down next to the VCR, ejecting its previous contents. It seemed in that moment that you very much both realized that when Javier stood in front of you, you eye level with his waist, staring up at him, dangerously close to his coc- 

“Uh, yeah, yeah sorry,” he shook his head slightly to snap himself out of the thought he was about to have. “Thanks.” he smiled sheepishly. 

“Well I’m no technology expert, but all you should have to do is press play wherever you need to, and you should be good to go! Let me just roll this cart out for you and we’re good for you whenever you’re ready!” You began pushing the cart out onto the stage, but before you could get anywhere, Javi had his hand over yours. 

“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure it’s probably heavy, I can push it.” He insisted. 

You raised your eyebrows and gave him a look that made him step away. 

“What, you think I can’t do it?” Defiantly, you pushed the cart out to the middle of the stage to prove a point, looking back at him and shrugging with an “I told you so” look on your face. Any other woman he had met would have thankfully given up the task, let alone offer to do it at all. At that moment, Javier Peña knew you were not just any other woman. And that- that terrified him in the best way possible.

 Just before you hopped off the edge of the stage to re-join your class, you looked up at him as he ran his fingers through his locks of thick, curly brown hair, trying to regain his composure. 

“Good luck up there, Mr. Peña.” 

Javier couldn’t even tell you what had happened in the 30 minutes that he was up on stage. There were many times throughout his career where he had stared out into a sea of blank faces as he gave a presentation about intel, informats, wire taps… but having the eyes of 80 9 and 10 year olds glued to his every word was an absolutely terrifying experience. Not because he was nervous about the judgment of a child who may or may not even be able to tie their shoes or wipe their nose, but because of what they may say about him to you. It took everything in his power not to stare at you the entire time he was up there, but every time he glanced in your direction, your face lit up with a reassuring smile. You had even given him a little thumbs up when he had successfully started the VCR, playing a clip of Daren the D.A.R.E Lion. 

As the presentation finished, the kids applauded and gave a unanimous “thank you!” prompted by the teachers. 

As your class gathered behind you to walk down to the cafeteria, Maria tapped your shoulder. 

“Take a picture, mija, it will last longer.” 

You were too busy staring at Javi to even notice that Maria was talking to you. Her words went in one ear and out the other. 

“Huh, what? Sorry, did you say something?” 

“I said, take a picture, it will last longer.” Maria laughed to herself. “I don’t think your eyes have left him once since you walked in here.” 

You hated to admit it, but it was true. You had known this man for less than an hour, and he already had butterflies dancing around in your stomach. God, what were you, 12?! Pull it together. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Maria.” Of course you did. If you were wearing pants, they would be up in flames. Liar, liar, pants on fire. 

“I’ll take your class to lunch today. I’ll be back to help stack all of the chairs in a few. I’m sure he could use some help cleaning up, and I’ve heard that VCR is really difficult to work.” Maria nudged you before she turned around to collect your class and parade them out of the gym. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

Trying to contain your excitement, you playfully rolled your eyes and shook your head. 

The other teachers and students left, leaving just you and Javi. He gathered his things that he had left on the stage and started to make his way back down the stairs. It took him a moment to realize you were standing at the edge of the steps, arms crossed over your chest, smiling up at him. 

“I’m sorry if the kids were rowdy. It’s been a zoo since there’s only a few days of school left.” You both let out a small chuckle. Now that you two were alone, you became very aware of how nervous you were.

“You did a really great job! Honestly, you’re the best person we’ve had since we’ve started doing these presentations. The guy we had last time, I can’t remember his name, something with an M?! Anyways, I don’t think he’s ever spoken to a child in his entire life, and there were definitely some tears.” 

Definitely Morris, Javi noted to himself. 

“Thanks, I uh- didn’t think I’d be so nervous to talk in front of a bunch of kids. I’m glad it wasn’t too bad. I should thank you for helping me with that video. Didn’t need to get my pride bruised in front of 10 year olds.  Also glad I didn’t make anyone cry.” 

You both let out small laughs, your cheeks revealing small smiles across your faces. While the silence between you grew, the distance between you began to shrink as you both subconsciously took a small step towards each other. 

He watched as a small wave of sadness flooded your expression. “Stinks that this is the last week of presentations before the school year ends. it would have been nice to have you back.” You looked at him with a half hopeful smile. You saw the same feeling reflected back in him as his brow scrunched and bottom lip entered a small pout. 

“Oh shit. Yeah, I uh, I guess I forgot it’s the end of the school year. That would make sense there wouldn’t be anymore presentations.” He rested one hand on his hip, as the other traveled through his thick, brown locks. You bit down on your bottom lip, stunned by his broadness and shoulders to waist ratio, which was made even more apparent as his fingers combed through his hair. His deep brown eyes met yours, melting you instantly.  “If I had known that you would have been here, I would have signed up to come a lot earlier.” 

Before you had a chance to recover yourself from the puddle you had just turned into, the cafeteria doors swung open once again. Maria was a woman on a mission. Her tiny, thin frame marched with purpose towards you both. 

“Oh good thing I caught you, amor! I was just thinking that I had something important to tell Javier before he left and I’m so glad you’re here to hear it too. Javi happens to be a dear familiar friend, and I was just telling him before the presentation how excited I am to see him and his father at my cookout this Saturday! I know you had mentioned you were thinking about going! You’ll be there, won’t you Javier? Aren't you so excited to come to the party this Saturday?”

Maria and Javier entered a silent stare down. Their expressions allowed them to have an entire conversation without speaking a word. 

There’s a party on Saturday? What are you talking about? What does this have to do with anything?

Dios Mio, Pendejo. Take the hint. I already invited her. She will be there on Saturday so you can see her again. Don’t mess this up. 

“Oh really?” You chimed in, perhaps a bit too over enthusiastic. “I wasn’t really going to know anyone besides the staff at school, so it would be nice to see another familiar face!” In all honesty, you were trying to find a way out of going before just now. Huge social gatherings of strangers weren’t really your thing, but if it meant it was a chance to see Javi again, you would brave it. 

“Oh yeah, the uh, the cookout! Yeah, uh, yeah, I’ll be there. It would be really nice to see you again, too.” Although Javier’s tone carried a tint of confusion, his smile was confirmed that his statement was genuine. 

“Bueno!” Maria clasped her hands together and shook her head in delight. “So you will BOTH be there on Saturday!” 

You could already feel your heart swelling at the prospect of seeing Javi again. 

“Oh and mija”, Maria turned towards you, your face lighting up, wondering if she had even more good news to deliver. “They need you in the office. Isabella and Jorge got into a wrestling match in the cafeteria and the secretaries needed to call their parents. Oi, these niños are like wild animals, summer cannot come fast enough!” 

“Of course they did. They might as well put WWE referee under our job description because it seems like that’s all I’m doing all day. It’s like herding feral cats.” you groaned. “Those two cannot be together next year…” 

Javi let out a snort. “Sorry”, he said, trying to contain his laughter. You joined in, realizing the ridiculousness of your statement. 

“Alright, well I guess that’s my cue to go. It was really nice to meet you, Javi. I’m really glad I get to see you again.” It took every ounce of strength in your body to move yourself out of the cafeteria doors. As you walked away, you turned once more to look back over your shoulder, to find that Javi’s eye’s hadn’t moved from your direction since you turned around. “See you on Saturday.” 

Even after you were out of sight, Javi still stood frozen, his eyes wide and jaw still half open. 

“Hola, earth to Javier, are you there?!” Maria interjected, waving her hand in front of Javi’s awe struck face. 

Snapping out of his trance, Javier began to speak, but was stopped before he could get out a single word. 

“Listen to me mijo. I want you to be happy. That was all Lucia asked for before she passed. So first and foremost, you are welcome.” Maria gestured, alluding to the fact that Javier owed her big time for what had just happened. “Secondly, she is a sweet girl. If you do anything to break her heart, so help me, I will come to the ranch and run you over with your father’s tractor. Understood?” 

“Understood.” Javier understood that this was not a threat, it was a promise. 

“Good. She’s a good one, Javier. She reminds me so much of your mother. Lucia would have loved her.” She reached up her hand to cup the side of Javi’s face, before bringing her other arm around him for a hug. 

In August, 2020, Williamson County Schools, which serves more than forty thousand students in suburban Nashville, started using an English and Language Arts curriculum called Wit & Wisdom. The program, which is published by Great Minds, a company based in Washington, D.C., wasn’t a renegade choice: hundreds of school districts nationwide had adopted it. Both Massachusetts and Louisiana—states with sharply different political profiles—gave Wit & Wisdom high approval ratings.

The decision had followed a strict process. The Tennessee State Board of Education governs academic standards and updates them every five or six years, providing school districts with an opportunity to switch curricula. Williamson County Schools assembled a selection committee—twenty-six parents, twenty-eight elementary-school teachers of English and Language Arts. The committee presented four options to teachers, who voted on them in February, 2020. Wit & Wisdom was the overwhelming favorite. After the selection committee ratified the teachers’ choice, the school board, which has twelve members, unanimously adopted Wit & Wisdom, along with a traditional phonics program, for K-5 students.

Great Minds’s promotional materials explain that Wit & Wisdom is designed to let students “read books they love while building knowledge of important topics” in literature, science, history, and art. By immersing students in “content-rich” topics that spark lively discussion, the curriculum prepares them to tackle more complicated texts. The materials are challenging by design: studies have shown that students read better sooner when confronted with complex sentences and advanced vocabulary. Wit & Wisdom’s hundred and eighteen “core” texts, which range from picture books to nonfiction, emphasize diversity, but not in a strident way. They provide “mirrors and windows,” allowing readers both to see themselves in the stories and to learn about other people’s lives. The curriculum assigns or recommends portraits of heralded pioneers: Leonardo da Vinci, Sacagawea, Clara Barton, Duke Ellington, Ada Lovelace. The lessons revolve around readings, augmented with paintings, poetry, speeches, interviews, films, and music: in the module “A Hero’s Journey,” students explore an illustrated retelling of the Odyssey alongside the Ramayana, a Sanskrit epic, while also discussing “Star Wars.” A section on “Wordplay” pairs “The Phantom Tollbooth” with Abbott and Costello’s “Who’s on First” routine.

Elsewhere in Tennessee, teachers were saying that Wit & Wisdom improved literacy. The superintendent of Lauderdale County, a rural area where nearly a quarter of the population lives below the poverty line, published an essay reporting that his district’s teachers had noticed “an enormous difference in students’ writing” after implementing the curriculum. Wit & Wisdom encourages students to discuss readings with their families—a father in Sumner County, northeast of Nashville, was pleased that his daughters now talked about civil rights and the American Revolution at dinner.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Wit & Wisdom became the target of intense criticism. At first, the campaign in Williamson County was cryptic: stray e-mails, phone calls, public-information requests. Eric Welch, who was first elected to the school board in 2010, told me that the complainers “wouldn’t just e-mail us—they would copy the county commission, our state legislative delegation, and state representatives in other counties.” He said, “It was obviously an attempt to intimidate.”

The school board is an American institution whose members, until recently, enjoyed visibility on a par with that of the county tax collector. “There’s no glory in being a school-board member—and there shouldn’t be,” Anne McGraw, a former Williamson County Schools board member, said on a local podcast last year. Normally, the district’s public meetings were sedate affairs featuring polite exchanges among civic-minded locals. The system’s slogan was: “Be nice.”

In May, 2021, as the district finished its first academic year with Wit & Wisdom, women wearing “Moms for Liberty” T-shirts began appearing at school-board meetings. They brought large placards that contained images and text from thirty-one books that they didn’t want students to read. In public comments and in written complaints, the women claimed that Wit & Wisdom was teaching children to hate themselves, one another, their families, and America. “Rap a Tap Tap,” an illustrated story about the vaudeville-era tap dancer Bill (Bojangles) Robinson, by the Caldecott medalists Leo and Diane Dillon, harped on “skin color differences.” A picture book about seahorses, which touched on everything from their ability to change color to the independent movement of their eyes, threatened to “normalize that males can get pregnant” by explaining that male seahorses give birth; the Moms suspected a covert endorsement of “gender fluidity.” Greco-Roman myths: nudity, cannibalism. (Venus emerges naked from the sea; Tantalus cooks his son.)

The Moms kept attending school-board meetings and issuing complaints. Curiously, though they positioned themselves as traditionalists, they often borrowed “woke” rhetoric about the dangers of triggering vulnerable students. Readings about Ruby Bridges—who, in 1961, became the first Black child to attend an all-white school in New Orleans—exposed students to “psychological distress” because they described an angry white mob. (Bridges, in a memoir designed for young readers, wrote, “They yelled at me to go away.”) The Moms also declared that, though they admired Martin Luther King, Jr.,’s iconic line about judging others “on the content of their character,” the book “Martin Luther King, Jr. and the March on Washington” was unacceptable, because it contained historical photographs—segregated drinking fountains, firefighters blasting Black Americans with hoses—that might make kids feel bad. The Moms considered it divisive for Wit & Wisdom to urge instructors to remind students that racial slurs are “words people use to show disrespect and hatred towards people of different races.”

At one meeting, Welch watched, stunned, as a Moms member said, “You are poisoning our children,” and “Wit & Wisdom must go!” Welch told me, “They went from zero to a hundred. Everything from them was aggressive, and threatening in nature.” He said, “It was not ‘Let’s have a dialogue.’ It was ‘Here are our demands.’ ”

When the women in T-shirts first showed up, Welch had never heard of Moms for Liberty, and he didn’t recognize its members. The group’s leader, Robin Steenman, was in her early forties, with shoulder-length blond hair; in coloring and build, she resembled Marjorie Taylor Greene. Board of Education members struggled to understand why she’d inserted herself into a matter that didn’t concern her: Steenman had no children in the public schools.

Moms for Liberty members soon escalated the conflict, publicly asserting that Williamson County Schools had adopted Wit & Wisdom hurriedly, and in violation of state rules. The school board still wasn’t sure what Moms for Liberty was—who founded it, who funded it. Nevertheless, the district assembled a reassessment team to review the curriculum and the adoption process. At a public “work session” in June, 2021, the team announced that, after a preliminary review, it hadn’t found any violations of protocol. Teachers had spent a full workday familiarizing themselves with Wit & Wisdom before implementing it. As Jenny Lopez, the district’s curriculum director, explained, “Teachers actually had more time than they’ve ever had to look at materials.”

The superintendent, Jason Golden, urged his colleagues to take parental feedback seriously, including worries that certain Wit & Wisdom content was too mature for young kids. For example, there were gruesome details in books about shark attacks and about war. Golden told the board, “These are real concerns.” Yet Golden also recalled telling a Moms for Liberty representative how much he trusted the district’s processes for evaluating curricula.

The review committee ultimately concluded that Wit & Wisdom had been an over-all success; still, administrators decided to survey teachers quarterly about how the curriculum was working. They limited access to the gorier images in one Civil War book and imposed similar “guardrails” involving “Hatchet,” a popular young-adult novel in which a character attempts suicide. “Walk Two Moons,” a novel by the Newbery Medal winner Sharon Creech, about a daughter’s quest to find her missing mother, was eventually removed from the Williamson version of the program, not because its content was deemed objectionable but, rather, to adjust the pacing of one fourth-grade module. Golden, who is tall and genial, told the board members, “The overwhelming feedback that we got was: ‘Man, can’t we just read something uplifting in fourth grade?’ And we felt the same way!”

At the work session, Golden shared one end of a conference table with Nancy Garrett, the board’s chair. Garrett, who has rectangular glasses and a blond bob, is from a family that has attended or worked in Williamson County Schools for three generations. She had won the chairmanship, by unanimous vote, the previous August. At one point, she asked an assistant superintendent who had overseen the selection and review of Wit & Wisdom whether “the concept of critical race theory” had come up during the process. No, the assistant superintendent said.

Moms for Liberty members were portraying Wit & Wisdom as “critical race theory” in disguise. Garrett found this baffling. C.R.T., a complex academic framework that examines the systemic ways in which racism has shaped American society, is explored at the university level or higher. As far as the board knew, Williamson County Schools had never introduced the concept. Yet there had been such a deluge of references to it that Garrett had delved into her old e-mails, in an unsuccessful attempt to identify the origins of the outrage. She told her colleagues, “I guess I’m wondering what happened.”

In September, 2020—four months after the murder of George Floyd, two months before the Presidential election, and a month into Williamson County Schools’ use of Wit & Wisdom—Christopher Rufo, a conservative activist, appeared on Tucker Carlson’s show, on Fox News, and called critical race theory “an existential threat to the United States.” Rufo capitalized on the fact that, given C.R.T.’s academic provenance, few Americans had heard of the concept. He argued that liberal educators, under the bland banner of “diversity,” were manipulating students into thinking of America not as a vibrant champion of democracy but as a shameful embodiment of white supremacy. (As he framed things, there were no in-between positions.) Rufo later called C.R.T. “the perfect villain”—a term that “connotes hostile, academic, divisive, race-obsessed, poisonous, elitist, anti-American views.”

Rufo found a receptive ear in President Donald Trump, who was already ranting about “The 1619 Project,” the collection of Times Magazine essays in which slavery is placed at the heart of the nation’s founding. On Twitter, Trump had warned that the Department of Education would defund any school whose classroom taught material from the project. Trump conferred with Rufo and banned federal agencies from conducting “un-American propaganda training sessions” involving “critical race theory” or “white privilege.” Trump said that Black Lives Matter protests were proliferating not because of anger over police abuses but because of “decades of left-wing indoctrination in our schools.” Establishing a “1776 Commission,” he urged “patriotic moms and dads” to demand that schools stop feeding children “hateful lies about this country.” (The American Historical Association condemned the Administration’s eventual “1776 Report,” highlighting its many inaccuracies and arguing that it attempted to airbrush history and “elevate ignorance about the past to a civic virtue.”)

Nearly nine hundred school districts nationwide were soon targeted by anti-C.R.T. campaigns, many of which adopted language that closely echoed Trump’s order not to teach material that made others “feel discomfort, guilt, anguish, or any other form of psychological distress on account of his or her race or sex.” In some red states, the vague wording was enshrined as law. Republicans filed what became known as “anti-C.R.T.” bills; they were seemingly cut and pasted from templates, with similarly phrased references to such terms as “divisive concepts” and “indoctrination.”

Williamson County Schools was uneventfully wrapping up its first term with Wit & Wisdom when, in early December, 2020, the American Legislative Exchange Council, which generates model legislation for right-leaning lawmakers, hosted a Webinar about “reclaiming education and the American dream.” A representative of the Heritage Foundation, the conservative think tank, warned that elements of a “Black Lives Matter curriculum” were “now in our schools.” Rufo—correctly predicting that Joe Biden, then the President-elect, would abolish Trump’s executive order—urged state legislators and governors to take up the fight.

Continuing the agitation wasn’t just an act of fealty to Trump; it was cunning politics. The fear that C.R.T. would cause children to become fixated on race has resonated with enough voters to help tip important elections. Last November, Glenn Youngkin, a candidate for the governorship of Virginia, won an upset victory after repeatedly warning that the “curriculum has gone haywire”—and promising to sign an executive order banning C.R.T. from schools. Jatia Wrighten, a political scientist at Virginia Commonwealth University, told the Washington Post that Youngkin had “activated white women to vote in a very specific way that they feel like is protecting their children.”

Days after the alec Webinar on “reclaiming education,” three women in Florida filed incorporation papers for Moms for Liberty, Inc., later declaring that their “sole purpose” was to “fight for parental rights” to choose what sort of education was best for their kids. One of the organization’s founders, Tina Descovich—who had recently lost reëlection to the school board of Brevard County, Florida, after opposing pandemic safety protocols—soon appeared on Rush Limbaugh’s show. Declaring plans to “start with school boards and move on from there,” she said of like-minded parents, “It sounds a little melodramatic, but there is evil working against us on a daily basis.” maga media—“Tucker Carlson Tonight,” Breitbart—showcased Moms for Liberty. Media Matters, the liberal watchdog, argued that influential right-wing media figures were essentially “recruiting their eager audience” for the Moms’ campaign.

Moms for Liberty, which is sometimes referred to as M4L or MFL, is so new that it is hard to parse, from public documents, what its leaders are getting paid. (The founders say that the chairs of local chapters are volunteers.) The group describes itself as a “grassroots” organization, yet its instant absorption by the conservative mediasphere has led some critics to suspect it of being an Astroturf group—an operation secretly funded by moneyed interests. Moms for Liberty registered with the I.R.S. as the kind of social-welfare nonprofit that can accept unlimited dark money.

The leaders had deep G.O.P. connections. One, Marie Rogerson, was a successful Republican political strategist. The other, Bridget Ziegler, a school-board member in Sarasota County, is married to the vice-chair of the Florida G.O.P., Christian Ziegler, who told the Washington Post, “I have been trying for a dozen years to get twenty- and thirty-year-old females involved with the Republican Party, and it was a heavy lift to get that demographic. . . . But now Moms for Liberty has done it for me.” Moms for Liberty worked with the office of Florida’s governor, Ron DeSantis, to help craft the state’s infamous “Don’t Say Gay” legislation, which DeSantis signed into law this past March; it forbids instruction on “sexual orientation or gender identity” in “kindergarten through grade 3 or in a manner that is not age-appropriate.”

A national phalanx of interconnected organizations—including the Manhattan Institute, where Rufo is a fellow, and a group called Moms for America—supported the suite of talking points about C.R.T. According to NBC News, in a single week last year Breitbart alone published seven hundred and fifty posts or articles in which the theory was mentioned. Glenn Beck, the right-wing pundit, declared that C.R.T. is a “poison,” urging his audience, “Stand up in your community and fire the teachers. Fire them!”

On March 15, 2021, Rufo, in a tweet thread, overtly described a key element of the far right’s evolving strategy: “We have successfully frozen their brand—‘critical race theory’—into the public conversation and are steadily driving up negative perceptions. We will eventually turn it toxic, as we put all of the various cultural insanities under that brand category.” He added, “The goal is to have the public read something crazy in the newspaper and immediately think ‘critical race theory.’ ”

Williamson County has some of Tennessee’s top-ranked schools. “That’s why people move here,” Eric Welch, the longtime school-board member, told me. He describes the school system as an economic “asset that pays off.” Williamson County has the state’s second-lowest unemployment rate and the highest property values: the median home value exceeds eight hundred thousand dollars.

It is not a diverse place. Eighty-eight per cent of residents are white. Ninety-five per cent of the school district’s teachers are white. Until September, all twelve school-board members and the superintendent were white. A Confederate monument anchors the town square of the county seat, Franklin. The square was publicly marked as a former slave market only three years ago. The Confederate flag still flies prominently in some areas. When the white father of Black children recently complained about this at a school-board meeting, a man in the audience sneered, “We’re in the South! ”

In 2018, several parents joined forces to point out that schools in Williamson County could work harder to be welcoming to children of color. The group, which became known as the Cultural Competency Council, included Black, Asian American, Jewish, and L.G.B.T.Q.+ residents. A school-district official who served as a liaison to the council created videos for teacher training and development, including one about privilege. That video’s language had clearly been calibrated to preëmpt defensive reactions: a narrator underscored that the concept of privilege was “not meant to suggest that someone has never struggled or that success is unearned.” Even so, the conservative media pounced: the Tennessee Star said that the video took viewers on a guilt trip about “the perks white males supposedly have that others do not, America’s supposed dysfunctional history, and how unfair it all is.” Such views have played well in a county that Trump carried twice, both times by more than twenty points. (The Cultural Competency Council has been disbanded.)

In 2020, Revida Rahman and another parent co-founded an anti-racism group, One WillCo, after Black parents chaperoning field trips to local plantations were astonished to see slavery depicted as benign. Rahman told me that some presentations suggested that “the slaves didn’t really have it that bad—they lived better than we do, they had their food provided, they had housing.” She added, “I beg to differ.” At a school that one of Rahman’s sons attended, some white classmates had mockingly linked arms as if to represent Trump’s border wall.

One WillCo especially wanted the school system to address the fact that it had a record of disproportionately punishing students of color—a recent revelation. Moreover, some teachers used racially insensitive materials in their classrooms: in an assignment about the antebellum economy, students were instructed to imagine that their family “owns slaves,” and to “create a list of expectations for your family’s slaves.”

On February 15, 2021, the school board hired a mother-and-son team of diversity consultants to gauge the depth of the district’s problems with racism, bullying, and harassment, and to recommend solutions. A conservative board member, Jay Galbreath, forwarded information about the consultants to influential local Republicans, including Gregg Lawrence, a county commissioner, and Bev Burger, a longtime alderman in Franklin. In an e-mail, Lawrence complained to Galbreath that hiring the consultants was the type of thing that would lead to “the politicization of teaching in America where every subject is taught through the lens of race.” He wrote, “These young people who have been protesting, looting and burning down our cities in America are doing so because they don’t see anything about America worth preserving. And why is that? Because our public schools and universities taught them that America is a systemically racist nation founded by a bunch of bigoted slave owning colonizers.”

This exchange was eventually made public through an open-records request, which also revealed that Burger had helped edit what has been called the foundational complaint against Wit & Wisdom: a month after the diversity consultants were hired, the parents of a biracial second grader e-mailed school officials to complain that the curriculum had caused their son to be “ashamed of his white half.” Burger wrote of her edits, “See what you think.” She cc’d Lawrence, who forwarded the communications to Galbreath and another school-board member, Dan Cash, a fellow-conservative who had won his seat in 2014, during a Tea Party wave. The county commissioner told the school-board members, “Here is more evidence that we are teaching critical race theory,” and urged them to “get rid of” Wit & Wisdom.

A few weeks later, on March 22nd, the school board’s monthly meeting took place on Zoom, because of the pandemic. Robin Steenman appeared before the board for the first time. Wearing a cream-colored sweater and dangly earrings, she presented herself simply as a concerned resident who wanted school officials to reject any diversity proposal that involved “The 1619 Project, critical race training, intersectionality.” She worried aloud that a recent proposal in California to mandate a semester of ethnic studies would be “paraded as a blueprint for the rest of the country.”

Steenman, who appeared to be reading from notes, asserted that parents in Virginia were being blacklisted for “speaking out.” In Pennsylvania, an elementary school had “forced fifth graders to celebrate Black communism and host a Black Power rally.” In North Carolina, a teacher had described parents as “an impediment to social justice.” In Ohio, C.R.T. “had to be removed from the curriculum, because the students were literally turning on each other.” Steenman cited no sources. She said, “If you give them an inch”—then changed course. Dropping the “them,” she declared, “If you give one inch to this kind of teaching, then you’re gonna subject yourself to the whole spectrum.”

Several weeks later, Steenman started the Williamson County chapter of Moms for Liberty, building on the e-mail sent by the parents of the biracial child and harnessing the furious energy of families who were already accusing the school board of “medical tyranny” for requiring students to wear masks. This vocal minority had been particularly incensed at one school-board member, Brad Fiscus, a former science teacher whose wife, Michelle, a pediatrician, was Tennessee’s chief vaccine officer. Williamson County is a Republican pipeline to state and national office: the governor, Bill Lee, is from there; Marsha Blackburn, the maga senator, began her political career as a county commissioner there. In July, 2021, the state fired Michelle Fiscus after conservative lawmakers objected to her “messaging” in support of covid-19 vaccinations; afterward, Brad Fiscus resigned from the school board and the family moved to the East Coast. For right-wing extremists, the obvious lesson was that rage tactics worked. That August, one school-board meeting nearly ended in violence when two enraged men followed a proponent of masks to his vehicle, screaming, “We can find you!”

Moms for Liberty emphasizes the importance of being “joyful warriors”—relatable women who can rally their communities. A founder once explained, “This fight has to be fought in their own backyard.” The organization may have seen Steenman as particularly well suited to winning over Williamson County residents: she was a former B-1-bomber pilot now raising three small children. Her husband, Matt, was also ex-Air Force—fighter jets. They moved to Williamson County five years ago, from Texas.

Another member of their fraternity was John Ragan, a former Air Force fighter pilot who’d been elected as a Republican to the Tennessee General Assembly in 2010. Ragan, a former business consultant from the city of Oak Ridge, had been listed as an alternate on alec’s education task force. (He says that he does not recall attending any meetings.) He’d once crafted legislation to ban K-8 teachers from using materials “inconsistent with natural human reproduction” in the classroom. (It failed.)

Early last year, as Moms for Liberty was receiving its first wave of national media attention, Ragan introduced “anti-C.R.T.” legislation. He wanted to ban teaching about white privilege or any other concepts that might cause students “discomfort or other psychological distress” because of their race or sex. The wording parroted talking points from Moms for Liberty, which parroted Trump, who parroted Rufo. Around the time that Moms for Liberty members began showing up at Williamson County school-board meetings, Steve Bannon, the former Trump adviser, said on his video podcast that “the path to save the nation is very simple—it’s going to go through the school boards.” Calling mothers “patriots,” he urged a “revolt.”

At a committee meeting of Tennessee House members, Ragan promoted his legislation by claiming that he’d heard about a seven-year-old Williamson County girl who had had suicidal thoughts, and was now in therapy, because she was ashamed of being white. (No such family has ever publicly come forward.) Two Black Democrats sharply challenged Ragan. Harold Love, a congressman from Nashville, asked him whether the proposed legislation would make it illegal for teachers to even mention “The 1619 Project.” When Ragan replied that instructors could talk about it as long as they taught “both for and against,” Love said, “It’s kind of hard to be ‘for or against’ slavery.” G. A. Hardaway, a congressman from Memphis, argued on the House floor that a law limiting discussion of race, ethnicity, discrimination, and bias contradicted “the very principles that our country was formed on.”

Ragan pushed ahead, arguing that “subversive factions,” “seditious charlatans,” and “misguided souls” were creating “artificial divisions” in a “shameless pursuit of political power.” His bill passed. Senator Raumesh Akbari, who chairs the Tennessee Senate Democratic Caucus, said, “This offensive legislation pretends skin color has never mattered in our country,” adding that “our children deserve to learn the full story.”

Once the Governor signed the bill into law, Moms for Liberty would be able to devise complaints arguing that certain elements of public instruction violated a Tennessee statute. Violators could be fined hundreds of thousands of dollars, potentially draining resources. Steenman, appearing on Blackburn’s video podcast, “Unmuted with Marsha,” let slip a tactical detail: the moment Tennessee’s new law took effect, Moms for Liberty would have a complaint against Wit & Wisdom “ready to go” to the state. Blackburn praised Steenman as “the point of the spear.”

Steenman also appeared on Glenn Beck’s show. As if speaking directly to Governor Lee, she said, “Stop serving the woke-left lobby!” Beck said, “Bill Lee, shame on you!” Lee signed the bill into law on the eve of the anniversary of George Floyd’s murder.

Steenman raised Moms for Liberty’s visibility by putting on events—rented plants, live music, charcuterie. One of them, C.R.T. 101, took place in May, 2021, before a large audience at Liberty Hall, a Franklin auditorium in a renovated stove factory filled with shops and restaurants. A clinical psychologist from Utah, Gary Thompson, came onstage and declared that C.R.T. engenders shame, which can trigger depression, which could “be pushing your kids to suicide.” Thompson, who is Black, showed photographs of his multiracial family: he and his wife, a white pediatric neuropsychologist, have six children. Thompson joked, awkwardly, that the overwhelmingly white audience sure didn’t look like members of the K.K.K. He noted that he’d voted for Barack Obama, and said that he approved of Williamson County Schools’ hiring of diversity consultants to assess such problems as racial bullying. He opposed C.R.T., though, because it framed people of color as “victims.” Choking up, Thompson said, “That is not the legacy that my parents left me.”

Moms for Liberty often advances its cause by enlisting Black conservatives, or by borrowing snippets from their public comments. The organization has posted a video clip of Condoleezza Rice saying that white kids shouldn’t have to “feel bad” in order for Black children to feel empowered. Steenman has collaborated with Carol Swain, a political scientist at Vanderbilt, who vocally opposes same-sex marriage and once described Islam as “dangerous to our society.” This past January, Moms for Liberty sponsored a conference organized by Swain, American Dream, whose branding heavily featured images of Martin Luther King, Jr. Before the event, King’s daughter Bernice tweeted an admonition about those who took her father’s “words out of context to promote ideas that oppose his teachings,” adding that Steenman’s chapter, having “sought to erase him,” was now “using him to make money.”

At the C.R.T. 101 gathering, the author of the original complaint against Wit & Wisdom revealed herself onstage to be Chara Dixon, a mom in her forties. Nervously holding a copy of her speech, she introduced herself as a naturalized citizen. (She had emigrated, decades earlier, from Thailand.) Dixon, whose husband, Brian, is white, recalled helping their seven-year-old son with a Wit & Wisdom assignment about a “lonely little yellow leaf.” The audience laughed when she declared, “It was boring.” A book about a chameleon: “Another boring story!” Her son had also read about King’s “I Have a Dream” speech, which was “beautiful and uplifting”; but the tale of Ruby Bridges and the “angry white mob” was depressing. Dixon said that in her son’s childhood world “there’s no color.” (She soon became Moms for Liberty’s treasurer.)

Dixon seemed to conflate Wit & Wisdom and C.R.T. Steenman, in an official complaint to the Tennessee Department of Education, wrote, “There does not have to be a textbook labeled ‘Critical Race Theory’ for its harmful tenets to be present in a curriculum.” At the C.R.T. 101 event, she took the stage and told the audience that the threat of “Marxist” indoctrination at school could be vanquished by opposing “activist” teachers, curricula, and diversity-driven policy. An m.c. cheerily ended the evening by reminding everyone that “today’s kids are tomorrow’s voters.”

The Williamson County chapter of M4L held its next big event, Let’s Talk Wit & Wisdom, at a Harley-Davidson franchise in Franklin. Steenman had been having trouble finding a venue when the dealership’s owner offered his showroom. Calling the man a “true patriot,” Steenman presented him with a folded and framed American flag that, she said, had accompanied her on a bombing mission in Afghanistan.

Moms for Liberty had invited the entire school board to the event, but the only members who showed up were the group’s three clear allies. One, a former kindergarten teacher who opposed masking, liked to hug people during breaks at school-board meetings. The other two were Cash and Galbreath, both of whom were up for reëlection on August 4, 2022.

Steenman, gesturing toward a large screen behind her, showed the “findings” of a Moms for Liberty “deep dive” into Wit & Wisdom. She elicited gasps from the audience by saying that the curriculum contained books that depicted “graphic murder,” “rape,” “promiscuity,” “torture,” “adultery,” “stillbirth,” and “scalping and skinning,” along with content that her organization considered to be “anti-police,” “anti-church,” and “anti-nuclear family.” Rhetoric about “empowering the students” was suddenly “everywhere,” she complained. Without presenting any evidence, she claimed that elementary-school students now needed counsellors to help them “overcome the emotional trauma” caused by Wit & Wisdom.

Steenman’s events often strayed far from the particulars of Williamson County Schools. At one of them, the proceedings were interrupted when someone walked onstage and breathlessly announced news from Virginia: Glenn Youngkin, the candidate for governor who’d crusaded against C.R.T., had won. The audience cheered as if Youngkin were one of their own.

Steenman’s claims about Wit & Wisdom were so tendentious that several ardent supporters of the public schools looked her up on social media. Among other things, they discovered a Twitter account, @robin_steenman. On August 9, 2020, Matt Walsh—a columnist for the Daily Wire, the conservative media site co-founded by the pundit Ben Shapiro—had shared a thread by a Philadelphia teacher who expressed concern that meddlesome parents might overhear classroom conversations during online learning and undermine “honest conversations about gender/sexuality.” (The Daily Wire is headquartered in Nashville, and Shapiro has propagated Moms for Liberty’s messaging.) In a retweet of Walsh, @robin_steenman had posted, “You little brainwashing assholes will never get hold of my kids!” After Eric Welch and others publicly challenged Steenman about the tweet—and another one declaring that her children would never attend public schools—the account vanished. (Steenman agreed to an interview, but did not keep the appointment. A Moms for Liberty spokesperson, calling my questions “personal in nature,” largely declined to provide answers.)

Privately, certain defenders of Wit & Wisdom referred to Moms for Liberty members as the Antis. In a sly move, some adopted the seahorse as a symbol of what one parent described to me as “the resistance.” This summer in Williamson County, I saw seahorse stickers on cars and laptops. When I met Rahman for lunch, she was wearing seahorse earrings. At a school-board campaign event for a candidate who opposed Moms for Liberty, a volunteer wore a seahorse pendant on a necklace, alongside a gold cross. At least one person connected to Moms for Liberty had become concerned about the group’s motives and tactics, and was secretly monitoring them from the inside. This person told me, “I’m the one in the trench, and I don’t want to get caught.”

Many Moms and like-minded parents wanted both Wit & Wisdom and Superintendent Golden gone. Golden’s contract was up for annual review before the 2021-22 school year began. (One Moms for Liberty opponent recently tweeted, “The m.o. nationwide is to fire Supt’s and hire ideologues.”) At a meeting where the board planned to vote on Golden’s future, one of the superintendent’s many supporters implored the elected officials to “hold the line” against the “steady attack on our public schools.” The Antis were louder. A man wearing an American-flag-themed shirt shouted, “We, the parents, are awake, we’re organized, and we’re extremely pissed off.” He declared, “We’re gonna replace every board member in here with people just like me. Nothing would make us happier than to surround you with a roomful of American patriots who believe in the Constitution of the United States and Jesus Christ above!”

The Antis jeered at speakers who expressed support for Golden or the district’s diversity efforts. They mocked a woman whose daughters had experienced anti-Asian slurs at school. The mom told the board, “I’ve heard people say that teaching these parts of our history is ‘racist’ or ‘traumatic.’ What’s traumatic is Black, Latino, Asian, and L.G.B.T.Q. kids going to schools where they face discrimination and don’t feel safe.” A local psychologist, Alanna Truss, said, “I’m yet to see a child in my practice who’s been traumatized by our county’s curriculum choices. I have, however, seen many students experiencing trauma due to being discriminated against and bullied within our schools, related to race, religion, gender, and sexuality.”

Six of the school-board members, who serve four-year terms, were coming up for reëlection in August of 2022. (The other six will finish their terms in 2024.) As the Wit & Wisdom furor grew, another component of the right-wing assault on schools locked into place: last fall, state lawmakers passed a bill legalizing partisan school-board elections. Moms for Liberty called the change “a HUGE step forward.”

Educators and policymakers have long believed that public education should operate independently of political ideology. As the magazine Governing put it last year, “The goal of having nonpartisan elections is not to remove all politics” but “to remove a conflict point that keeps the school board from doing its job.” For people who target school boards, conflict has become a tool. In Texas, a PAC linked to a cell-phone company which recently funded the maga takeover of several school boards paid for an inflammatory mail campaign blaming a classroom shooting on administrators who had “stopped disciplining students according to Critical Race Theory principles.” In August, during a panel at cpac, the gathering of conservatives, the former Trump official Mercedes Schlapp warned that, though Republicans were focussed on federal and state elections, “school board elections are critical.” The panel’s title, “We Are All Domestic Terrorists,” derisively referred to recent instructions from Attorney General Merrick Garland to the F.B.I. for devising a plan to protect school employees and board members from threats of violence.

Joining Schlapp onstage was Ryan Girdusky, the founder of the 1776 Project pac, which funnels money to G.O.P. candidates in partisan school-board races. Girdusky boasted that, in 2021, his pac “did fifty-eight elections in seven states and we won forty-two.” Girdusky said that his goal this year is to boost at least five hundred school-board candidates nationwide. He urged the audience to “vote from the bottom up—go from school board and then go all the way up to governor and senator, and we’ll have conservative majorities across the entire electorate.”

Last November, mere weeks after Tennessee lawmakers voted to allow partisan school-board races, Steenman launched a pac, Williamson Families. Its approach was markedly similar to that of Southlake Families, a Texas pac whose orchestrated takeover of a school board in that state has led to attempted book bans. Both pacs have worked with Axiom Strategies, a political-consulting firm that has helped seat high-profile Republicans, including maga figures. Allen West, the chair of the Texas G.O.P., has urged Southlake Families to export its takeover blueprint to suburbs nationwide. Wealthy suburbs are some of America’s purplest districts, and winning them may be key to controlling the House, the Senate, and the Presidency. Anne McGraw, the former Williamson County Schools board member, told me that the advent of Moms for Liberty “shows how hyperlocal the national machine is going with their tactics.” She observed, “Moms for Liberty is not in Podunk, America. They’re going into hyper-educated, wealthy counties like this, and trying to get those people to doubt the school system that brought us here.”

Steenman’s pac quickly took in about a hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars—an unusually large amount for local politics in Tennessee. The pac held an inaugural event featuring John Rich, a country singer who had appeared with Trump on “The Celebrity Apprentice.” Rich, who has no apparent connection to Williamson County, has contributed at least five thousand dollars to Steenman’s pac.

Progressives and policy experts have long suspected that right-wing attacks on school boards are less about changing curricula than about undermining the entire public-school system, in the hope of privatizing education. During the alec Webinar about “reclaiming education,” the Heritage Foundation representative declared that “school choice” would become “very important in the next couple of years”; controversies about curricula, he said, were “opening up opportunity for policymakers at the state level” to consider options like charter schools.

This isn’t the first time that the culture wars have taken aim at public education. But Rebecca Jacobsen, a professor of education policy at Michigan State University, believes that this era is different, because social media has made it easy for national operatives to stage “a coördinated, concrete” scare campaign designed to drive parents toward alternatives to public schools: “The message, at its core, is: ‘Beware of your public-education system. Make sure your kid’s teachers aren’t up to something.’ ”

The timing of “anti-C.R.T.” legislation is no coincidence. Instead of putting forth a platform, the Republican Party has tried to maintain power by demonizing its opponents and critics as sinister and un-American. In the lead-up to the midterms, the G.O.P.’s alarmism about critical race theory has accompanied fear-mongering about L.G.B.T.Q.+ teachers being “groomers.” Conservative media aggressively promote both campaigns. From Fox News to the Twitter account Libs of TikTok, the messaging has been consistent: many public-school teachers are dangerous.

Lee, the Tennessee governor, has leveraged this discord while trying to reformulate school funding: in January, he announced plans to create fifty new charter schools in partnership with Hillsdale College, a private Christian school in Michigan, whose president, Larry Arnn, headed Trump’s 1776 Commission. The plan partially collapsed after a Tennessee television station aired footage of Arnn, during a private appearance in Williamson County, comparing public education to “the plague” and arguing that teachers are educated in “the dumbest parts of the dumbest colleges in the country.” J. C. Bowman, the executive director and C.E.O. of Professional Educators of Tennessee, called Arnn’s comments “reprehensible and irresponsible.” Even Republican politicians backed away. The speaker of the Tennessee House, Cameron Sexton, acknowledged that Arnn had “insulted generations of teachers who have made a difference for countless students.”

Moms for Liberty’s role in the broader war on public schools became ever clearer in July, at the group’s inaugural national summit, in Tampa. DeSantis, who delivered a key address, was presented with a “liberty sword.” Another headliner was Trump’s former Education Secretary, Betsy DeVos, whose family has connections to Hillsdale. To an enthusiastic crowd that included Steenman, DeVos declared that the U.S. Department of Education—the agency that she once oversaw—should not exist.

Early this year, Eric Welch, the school-board member, was leaning against seeking reëlection. Both of his sons had graduated—he was the one who handed them their high-school diplomas when they crossed the stage. His wife, Andrea, wanted him to take it easy for a while.

School-board service, which is time-consuming and can be tedious, requires diplomacy, a breadth of knowledge, and the ability to make complex, well-informed decisions. At meetings, Welch, who considered ideologues and bullies a threat to public education, often rebutted misinformation about covid-19 and Wit & Wisdom. At one meeting, he’d pointedly read aloud from a title that he found on a Moms for Liberty site: the book, written by a follower of the John Birch Society, referred to Black people as “pickaninnies.” Rahman, the co-founder of One WillCo, the anti-racism organization, told me, “He came with all the receipts.” Welch’s detractors had declared him arrogant and rude; Rahman called him “a strong advocate for what’s right.”

For Welch’s seat, Steenman’s pac backed William (Doc) Holladay, an optometrist who, like Steenman, had no children in Williamson County Schools. Holladay had shown up at school-board meetings to denounce C.R.T. as “racist.” On Facebook, where he’d railed against pandemic protocols, his posts were routinely flagged or removed because they contained misinformation. His top “news” sources included the Epoch Times, which regularly promotes right-wing falsehoods.

Last year, Charlie Wilson, the president of the National School Boards Association, characterized local school-board members as fundamental guardians “of democracy, of liberty, of equality, of civility and community, and of the Constitution and the rule of law.” Holladay, a felon who believes the conspiracy theory that Trump is still the “legitimate President,” seemed more like an opportunist. In 2008, he’d pleaded guilty to multiple counts of prescription fraud and forgery; the Tennessee Department of Health had put him on probation for “immoral, unprofessional or dishonorable conduct,” noting that he had also worked “while impaired.” The state licensure board later added five more years of probation upon discovering that he’d made “untruthful” claims about “professional excellence or abilities.” (Holladay told me that he has turned his life around.)

When Welch heard that Holladay and other figures he considered to be unsuitable were seeking authority over the schools, he tweeted, “I’m running.” He told his wife, “I don’t know that I can walk away and let these people be in charge.” The “Tennessee School Board Candidate Guide” notes that, for the office of school board, “the best, most capable and most farsighted citizens of each community should be drafted.”

During the campaign, Holladay tried to frame Welch, a lifelong Republican, as a “liberal” for having supported masking and Wit & Wisdom. Welch publicly noted that he had interned for Senator John Warner, of Virginia, and attended the Inauguration of George W. Bush. Holladay, who had no military service, bragged about being a patriot; Welch is an Army veteran.

In a Q. & A. published by One WillCo, candidates were asked to describe their involvement with Williamson County Schools. Welch explained that, in addition to serving on the executive board of the district’s parent-teacher association, he had “run wrestling tournaments as a booster fundraiser, spray painted end zones, worked concessions, volunteered for holiday shows setup/breakdown, built theatre sets, cleaned bleachers, mopped floors.” Holladay’s answers: “Speaking out at school board meetings”; “Helping to lead activist groups in order to effect needed changes.” When asked why he was running, he said that “the school board has largely been operating in a manner that runs counter to the conservative principles that most people who live here hold dear.” This and other answers betrayed profound ignorance of what a school board does.

Moms for Liberty had been broadening its campaign against Wit & Wisdom and was now targeting reading materials available in school libraries, which provided access to the Epic app, a repository of nearly fifty thousand children’s books. In a local news segment, Steenman read aloud, “I-is-for-intersex,” from a book called “The GayBCs,” which was available on Epic, and said, “What parent wants to explain ‘intersex’ to their child that, at this point, doesn’t even understand sex?”

Holladay tried a similar maneuver. During a live-streamed candidate forum, he handed his interviewer a passage from “Push,” the acclaimed novel by Sapphire, and asked him to read it aloud. (If this was the same passage that Holladay later showed me on his cell phone, it began, “Daddy sick me, disgust me, but he sex me up.”) The interviewer was Tom Lawrence, a gentlemanly fixture on AM radio who has been called “the voice of Williamson County.” Lawrence scanned the text and declined to share it with viewers, saying, “It has words like ‘orgasm’ in it.” Holladay, noting that the book could be found in one of the local high schools, declared, “Whoever is responsible for putting that book in the library should be arrested.” (In a tweet, Welch expressed astonishment that a school-board candidate would “call for the arrest of a WCS librarian.”)

As Holladay campaigned, he repeatedly invoked the nationwide partisan divide. In an interview that appeared on YouTube, he declared that conservatives were fleeing blue states for places like Williamson County because the left was trying to “destroy the last remaining refuges of conservatism and patriotism.” If Williamson County “goes blue,” he said, the rest of the state would follow, and if Tennessee “doesn’t stay red” it will be “a huge blow to the country.”

On Election Day, Welch, a wiry ex-wrestler, erected a pole tent outside Hunters Bend Elementary School, a voting precinct. Holladay’s supporters set up nearby. I arrived to find Welch, wearing khaki shorts and a “re-elect eric welch” T-shirt, squaring off in the parking lot with a Holladay supporter who was saying, angrily, “I’ve laid people out for less than that!”

The man, Brian Russell, described Welch as the aggressor—“He shoulder-checked me”—but multiple witnesses characterized the altercation differently. Meghan Guffee, a Republican running for reëlection to the county commission, told me that Russell had demanded to know why Welch had blocked him on social media. Welch, trying to walk away, had responded, “I’m ending this conversation. You’re an ass.”

In a public Facebook post, Russell had declared Welch to be “as bad as a pedophile.” Guffee said that she’d heard Russell, in the parking lot, accuse Welch of having “voted to teach third graders how to masturbate.” (Russell denies this.) Guffee was particularly appalled that her six-year-old daughter, who was with her at the voting site, had witnessed Russell’s hostility. She told me, “That is not how this community does things.”

Before leaving the school grounds, Russell, a painting contractor in his early fifties, told me that he was angry about Wit & Wisdom: “When my daughter comes home and her best friend is Black, and she’s wondering why ‘I’m bad because I’m white. . . . ’ ” This and other comments suggested that his children attended local schools. In fact, Russell’s three children lived in his native state of Ohio.

Throughout America, maga types were targeting education officials. In Maine, a man plastered a school-board member’s photograph on a sign and surrounded it with rat traps, telling NBC News, “This is a war with the left,” and “In war, tactics and strategy can become blurry.” A member of the Proud Boys ran for a school-board seat in California. On September 27th, the American Libraries Association sent an open letter to the F.B.I. director, Chris Wray, asking for help: in the previous two weeks alone, “bombing or shooting threats” had forced the temporary closing of libraries in five states. Tennessee was one of them.

In Williamson County, Moms for Liberty members couldn’t claim ignorance of the beliefs of some of the candidates they and Steenman’s pac supported. Williamson Families donated a thousand dollars to the campaign of an ex-marine who was running for county commissioner, and who had publicly warned the school board, “In the past, you dealt with sheep. Now prepare yourselves to deal with lions! I swore an oath to protect this country from all enemies—foreign and domestic. You harm my children, you become a domestic enemy.”

That guy lost. So did Holladay. Welch beat him by five hundred and fifty-nine votes. Welch was surprised that anybody had voted for Holladay, later telling me, “If you had to design a candidate who is unqualified and should not be on a board of education, that’s what he’d look like.”

Candidates backed by Moms for Liberty members won, however, in two other districts. A Republican who appeared to have no connection to the public schools beat Ken Chilton, who ran as an independent and who, the day after the election, tweeted that Tennessee lawmakers’ decision to allow partisan school-board elections had “created a monster.”

Jay Galbreath, the board member who had forwarded the e-mails about diversity consultants to other conservative politicians, had found himself challenged from the right flank—by a M4L-affiliated candidate whose campaign signs said “reject crt.” As if to prove his opposition to Wit & Wisdom, Galbreath had posted publicly, on Facebook, that progressives were “constantly looking at ways to inject and normalize things like gender identity, the black lives matter movement, and LGBTQ by weaving it into curriculum.” Williamson Strong, a pac composed of local progressives who have long defended the public schools, called for Galbreath’s resignation, noting, “This is pure hate speech, and it has NO place in a position of influence or power over 40,000+ children and their education. It has no place in Williamson County, period.” The group, whose leaders include Anne McGraw, the former school-board member, observed, “All filters have apparently been obliterated now that he’s competing for votes against an MFL-endorsed candidate.” Despite the controversy, Galbreath won reëlection.

A month before the vote, a civil action was filed against Wit & Wisdom: the parents of an elementary-school student sued the school board and various administrators in the district on behalf of a conservative nonprofit that they had just launched, Parents’ Choice Tennessee. The lawsuit’s complaint echoed Moms for Liberty’s assertions that the curriculum’s “harmful, unlawful and age-inappropriate content” represented a “clear violation of Tennessee code.” If the lawsuit succeeds, Williamson County Schools may have to find a new curriculum and pay fines. (Citing the litigation, Williamson County Schools officials declined to comment for this article.)

The lawsuit may have been designed, in part, to give the impression that there was more local opposition to Wit & Wisdom than actually existed. There are eighteen thousand students in the district’s elementary schools, but according to a district report only thirty-seven people had complained about the new curriculum. Fourteen of the complainants had no children in the system.

Rebecca Jacobsen, the Michigan scholar, looks for clues in such data. She said, of the vitriol toward school boards, “Is this a blip, and we’ll rebound? Or are we chipping away at our largest public institution and the system that has been at the center of our democracy since the founding of this country?” She noted that some Americans “don’t trust their schools and teachers anymore,” adding, “That’s radical.”

Moms for Liberty’s campaign, meanwhile, continues to widen. The organization now claims two hundred and forty chapters in forty-two states, and more than a hundred thousand members. It has thrown a fund-raising gala, featuring Megyn Kelly, in which the top ticket cost twenty thousand dollars. In late October, a spokesperson for the Moms told me that the organization—ostensibly a charity—is a “media company.”

Jonghyun has known Taemin since they were kids. Apartment neighbors, kind of. Jonghyun is 408, Taemin is 718. The way the apartments are set up, Jonghyun can sit at his bedroom window, look outside, and see Taemin's bedroom window across the way and one floor down. They go to elementary school together, then middle school, and then high school. They have one or two classes together over the years. None of that really matters because they never really talk.

What was the homework texted here, our mutual friend both invited us to the same party there, look at that dog shouted into the space between their windows at 7 p.m. On a Thursday one time in 8th grade. Whatever.

Even when Taemin starts sneaking out at night, the summer after sophomore year, 15 years old, it doesn't magically make them have a speaking relationship. All it does is distract Jonghyun as he's sitting at his window sill, scented candle lit, summer reading program report under his hands. Distracts him and makes him drop his pencil four floors into the bushes that line the building.

He doesn't watch it long enough to see it hit the ground. He's far too interested in watching whatever the fuck Taemin thinks he's doing. He's clambering out of his window, his third-story window, nothing but a concrete drop below him, and then he's actually climbing up, up the wall, up the building, up three floors until he's hauling himself up onto the roof.

When Taemin makes it up there, he rolls out of view over the ledge, but then his head pops back over. He looks all the way down, and even from far away, Jonghyun can see the huge smile spread over his face. His hands slap excitedly on the ledge before he stands up, turns, and disappears again as he jogs away, the high kick of his ankle behind him as he stumbles a step the last thing that Jonghyun sees of him.

Until he sees him sneaking out again the next night.

It doesn't become a nightly thing, but it is still regular enough that, every night when he's at his window sill with a candle and some writing, he’ll glance up at any movement he sees across the way just in case. It doesn't stop when school starts back up again, either. Sometimes Jonghyun will watch Taemin clamber out of his window, up the building, and disappear on the roof one night and then watch him sleeping on the bus the next morning, wondering how many hours he actually got. Sometimes he'll be up late enough to watch Taemin sneak back in, a descent three floors down from the roof that stops Jonghyun's heart every time.

School goes on. Jonghyun takes storytelling electives; music, ceramics, creative writing, art. He reads comic books, watches anime, looks up walkthroughs of video games that he can't play himself. He gets detention one time for being late and a kid sitting next to him offers him some weed, which he tries but doesn't really like, but that kid helps him through some spontaneous crying a few weeks later so they become pretty close and he winds up being the designated driver to a bunch of stoners. His dad moves out, his sister moves out, his sister moves back in. He picks up a part-time job at a music store during his senior year to help with the bills.

He sees Taemin around every now and again. They have ceramics together, for one. Taemin sits at another table with his own group of friends, but he smiles and says hey to Jonghyun when they wind up in the glazing room together. He comes into Jonghyun's job sometimes, looking over new album releases and buying everything a particular band puts out.

Jonghyun sees Taemin dancing during school pep rallies, assemblies, during rehearsals and the big night for a talent show they're both in where Jonghyun almost cries on stage because he's so nervous to be playing one of his own self written songs in front of people. He cries backstage instead and they still don't talk, but Taemin offers him a quick hug as they pass, hand rubbing over his back, and then he's gone before Jonghyun even really realized he was there in the first place. Later that night, Taemin sneaks out and then back in again within an hour.

And that night is also the first night that Taemin notices Jonghyun watching him. It’s just as he’s putting his hands on his windowsill to hoist himself up that he hesitates and, for a reason that Jonghyun can't come up with, looks directly across the way at Jonghyun.

He jumps when he sees Jonghyun, like he's startled; Jonghyun waves, a little confused, a little amused. Taemin looks down, covering what has to be an embarrassed smile with his hand.then Taemin looks up, waves back, and clambers out of his window and up the wall like usual. After he reaches the top, he peeks his head over the edge for the first time since that first night. Jonghyun leans just a little bit out of his window to smile and wave again. Even with all of the distance between them, Jonghyun can see the flash of his smile as Taemin taps two fingers to his temple and flicks them off in a salute.

From that night on, everytime that Taemin sneaks out, they wave at each other.

They graduate; Jonghyun with okay grades and Taemin with probably the same. Jonghyun doesn't go to college or anything. He upgrades his job at the music store to full time and does some freelance work online writing articles about art events and festivals in the area while he tries to work on his own stories in his free time. Taemin doesn't leave town either, because he still climbs out of his window and disappears over the roof on a regular basis. It's not until Taemin comes into the music store one time to buy a new CD and Jonghyun recognizes the logo on his hoodie as belonging to the local dance theater that he figures out what Taemin has been up to lately.

And it's not until they happen to both wind up in the little corner store down the street from their apartment complex at the same time that they have their first real conversation.

Jonghyun is there because he wanted snacks and his sister wanted snacks and he lost the rock paper scissors to decide who would go out and get some. Taemin is apparently there to buy some booze because he's standing in front of all of the refrigerators and contemplating the selection when Jonghyun opens one next to him to grab a couple bottles of soda.

"Oh, sorry," Taemin says, glancing at him and stepping a little bit away, and then, brighter, "oh, hey Jonghyun."

"Hey," Jonghyun says back, pleasantly surprised to recognize him. "Party?" he asks, nodding at all of the liquor. Taemin shakes his head, tells Jonghyun that he's just looking for something fun and fruity to enjoy by himself in his room sometimes. For self-care, he says. Jonghyun tells him he gets that and taps the glass in front of one of his favorite fruity boozy drinks in recommendation. Taemin shrugs and takes his word, opening the refrigerator and pulling out the bottle without even really looking at the label or anything on it. Then, after a moment's hesitation, asks, "how old are you again?"

"20," Jonghyun tells him, smiling a little sheepishly. "Maybe I ask my sister to buy me alcohol. Don't tell anyone."

And Taemin's response to that is a snort, a broad grin, and a hand slipping into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. "As long as you don't tell anyone about this," he says as he pulls out his ID card from its clear plastic flap, slots it in with all his other cards, pulls out a different ID card, and puts that in the flap.

The blunt casualness of that whole exchange surprises a laugh out of Jonghyun, one that sounds loud in the quiet little store. He doesn't try to stifle it; has never really tried to stifle his laughter. Still chuckling, he offers up his pinky to Taemin to promise. Taemin looks at him, looks at his pinky, covers his mouth and nose with the back of his hand for a moment, then links their pinkies together.

Taemin buys his alcohol and leaves the store before Jonghyun finishes picking up all of his snacks, but he sees Taemin ahead on the sidewalk on the way back and jogs to catch up with him.

"Don't go climbing out of your window after you drink any of that," he says, worried halfway through the sentence that maybe he's overstepping but finishing anyway. Taemin does that thing again, where he looks down and rubs his nose, and is the first one to offer up his pinky this time.

Taemin picks up a fashion for denim-on-denim, leather, spikes. Dark clothes, baggy hoodies, lots of rings. Beanies, worn-out shoes. Jonghyun attaches himself to big comfy sweaters, turtlenecks, bracelets cinching over the sleeves. Ripped jeans, snapbacks, boots. Taemin lets his hair grow out until it fans out around his face, soft and wavy, then cuts it short into a choppy bowl cut and a crisp undercut. Jonghyun tries out an undercut too, finds he likes it, experiments with dying his hair every couple of months. Taemin has some new piercings–shark bites, cheek studs, spikes through his ears. Jonghyun has some new tattoos–words on his arms, permanent bracelets around his wrists, planets on his side, a starscape on his back.

Jonghyun starts teaching guitar lessons at the music store to kids on the weekends. His mom gets promoted at her job. They stop struggling as much, settle into something almost resembling financial security. He keeps freelancing and in one of his articles he writes about a culture show the dance theater is putting on. In the picture that runs with the article, Taemin is standing on the end, smiling with his arm around a fellow dancer, doing a victory sign for the camera.

There's a queer club down the street from the music store that Jonghyun goes to sometimes. He makes new friends, has a couple of casual hookups, has a cute girlfriend for a while but things don't really work out. It's fine between them after. Taemin almost has a cute date friend one time, but that doesn't work out either. Jonghyun knows this because he watches the whole thing happen from his window sill.

He's there, writing notebook under his hands, scented candle next to his elbow, just like every night, and Taemin is suddenly there on the roof. Except, for once, he's not alone. Someone else is with him. A little taller, thick dark hair spilling out of a pulled up hoodie, and that's about all Jonghyun can see of them. The pair of them sit down on the ledge, feet dangling over nothing, close enough that their shoulders almost brush every so often.

Jonghyun doesn't mean to snoop, or eavesdrop, or anything. Taemin's love life is his own business. It's interesting, yeah, to watch them stargazing and talking together, but Jonghyun really is only glancing up at them every couple of minutes to distract his brain a little bit so he can focus on his writing without getting distracted a lot by something else. And it just so happens, that during one of those glances, Taemin tries to make his move.

It's not much of a move; a purposeful bump of their shoulders, a rub of his nose with the back of his hand, something said to make them look at him directly. More quiet words, a leaning in–not all the way, but enough to be clear–a tilt of his head like he's asking a question, and then.

And then. The other person leaning back, shaking their head, covering their mouth with both hands. Quickly they reach for Taemin's hand, holding it tight as they speak earnestly, as Taemin nods up and down and tugs his hair at the back of his head where they can't see.

They sit together for a little while longer after that, but a barely perceptible distance apart now, enough space that they don't accidentally bump shoulders anymore. Then the other person stands up, starts to walk away. Taemin turns and takes their hand, carefully, asks them something that they nod in agreement to. Taemin drops their hand, flops his own hands into his lap. The other person walks away, and then a minute later, Taemin falls back, sprawls himself out over the roof until all Jonghyun can see are his legs still dangling. They kick in the air for a few seconds before flopping limply back down in defeat.

Jonghyun looks back to his writing with a shake of his head. Poor baby.

He doesn't see Taemin sneak out for a couple of weeks after that. Then, another night, another candle, another page of writing, he glances up and finds Taemin sitting at his window, arms crossed on the windowsill, face nestled in his elbow, cheek smushed up as he pouts out at nothing. Jonghyun can't help it; he smiles at the image.

"Hey sorry about your heartbreak dude" is what he texts to Taemin once he finds his number buried in all of his contacts, an entry probably put in during high school for some project that neither of them remember. And then he just watches, waits, until Taemin leans away from his window. A moment later, Taemin returns, and this time he's holding his phone and looking up at Jonghyun. Jonghyun waves with an apologetic little shrug.

"Damn you saw that??? " Taemin texts back. Jonghyun replies that he did indeed see it and offers more condolences. Taemin's sigh is audible to Jonghyun even from so far away, but he replies anyway. They talk about nothing, really; Taemin asks what Jonghyun is always writing about and Jonghyun tells him. His book that he's been working on for a while. The one where he wanted to write a love story but wound up accidentally writing a breakup scene in the first chapter and then just went with it. Taemin seems to take some comfort in hearing about a failed romance.

The night after that, Taemin climbs out of his window again.

Him and Taemin text still. Not often, and when they do, it's never really a full conversation. Mostly just memes shared at 2 in the morning, small talk, happy birthdays. Look at that dog texted fervently at 7 p.m. On a Thursday dragging one of them at light speed to their window to obey. Taemin makes his way into one of Jonghyun's articles again, this time a little spotlight of his work as a choreographer for an entire show.

Jonghyun's manager gets fired for tax evasion or some bullshit and suddenly he finds himself as the manager instead. Not because he's super qualified for the job, but because he's worked there for the longest, almost 11 years, and the rest of the employees are mostly part-time high school kids. All of a sudden he has all of these duties and responsibilities that he doesn't know what to do with, on top of dealing with the mess that his old boss left him with. The first thing he does is give himself and all of the employees a raise, which at first gets him a serious reprimand from upper management of the store chain, but he doesn't give a shit and the next month he gets praised for reducing customer service complaints and boosting product sales.

One night Taemin comes into the music store to buy a new album from his favorite band a couple weeks later than Jonghyun was expecting him to. Usually he shows up on day one; when Jonghyun mentions that to him, he rubs his nose with the back of his hand and shrugs, mumbling something about a giveaway online and shipping problems. Jonghyun chuckles at that, mentions that the cardboard stand that they have in the store to promote the album is free for him to take, if he wants it. He's the manager. He can do that now.

Taemin's eyes widen behind his bangs, his teeth flash in a huge smile. He thanks Jonghyun emphatically, grabs the stand, and walks out with it, holding it in front of him as he goes and biting his lip.

Jonghyun finds himself thinking about that later in bed. Taemin’s teeth biting into his bottom lip. Digging into soft, plush pink. He looked different today. Something about his face, his nose. A nose job, Jonghyun guesses, something to change the tip of his nose from a cute soft hook to a cute round end. He dropped his shark bite piercings at some point and replaced them with studs. two silver squares on each side of his bottom lip, matching the ones that dimple his cheeks, the sets that outline the tips of his eyebrows. Matching the ones lined up below his collar bones. Jonghyun could see those in the dip of his v-neck.

The piercings won't leave his mind as he tries to fall asleep. Heavy silver, bold, striking, a statement of toughness outlining his delicate features. Jonghyun wonders how they feel, if he ran his fingers over them would they be cold or would they have absorbed Taemin’s body heat. He makes the mistake of wondering if Taemin has matching studs on his hips and realizes with a start that he's running his fingers over his own lips, imagining how it would feel if he were to drag his mouth over them.

Face hot, lips tingling, Jonghyun rolls over in bed and tries to think of anything else.

It works. For a little bit. Until the next day when he waves at Taemin as he heads out for the night. Then he's thinking about them again. Then he's thinking about what kind of noises Taemin would make if Jonghyun kissed his piercings. About how much deeper, huskier Taemin's voice sounded in the store. It had to have been that deep the last time they talked, the last time Taemin came in to buy an album, but–if it was, Jonghyun doesn't remember noticing or caring as much as he does now.

This new realization has him trying with all his heart to think about himself, what it means that he's gone his whole life without knowing that he had a thing for piercings, what it means if it's not the piercings and it's just Taemin, what it means if he suddenly starts lusting over the boy next door.

This lasts for about two more days until he gets tired of it and decides to just do something about it.

So the next time he catches Taemin about to climb out of his window a little bit after midnight, he waves frantically to get his attention. Taemin stops, looks at him, smiles, waves back. Jonghyun beckons towards him, trying to communicate that he wants him to come over without shouting. Taemin points at himself then over up at Jonghyun, tilting his head; Jonghyun nods eagerly, beckoning again. Without a moment of hesitation this time, Taemin nods and holds up one finger.

He climbs up his building, and then instead of disappearing away from Jonghyun, he walks along the edge. Jonghyun leans a little bit out of his window to watch him all the way down to where the parallel lines of their apartment buildings turn into a U for him to cross, until he gets too close to Jonghyun's side to see anymore. Then, a minute later, there's a crunch of shoe against brick outside his window. He moves his tealight candle out of the way and Taemin slips into his room feet first.

"Hey," he says. "What's up? Can I smell?"

A finger with chipped black nail polish touches next to Jonghyun's tiny candle. He has studs on the backs of his wrists too. Jonghyun lets him smell with a warning to be careful not to spill it, and then tries to figure out a way to say what he wants to say tactfully. He didn't think this part through. It's not really his style to come up with detailed plans, just to try things out and see if they work. Finally, after a bunch of starts and stops, half asked questions, an exasperated sigh, he just says, "do you want to make out?"

And in the silence after the question, in the dim light of his desk lamp, Taemin's tongue wets his lips.

"Sure," he says.

Nice.

Sure turns into Taemin in Jonghyun's lap, turns into Jonghyun gliding his thumb over the studs under Taemin's lip, turns into Taemin cupping his face and pressing their mouths together. Kissing turns into Jonghyun's hands sliding up under his shirt, turns into Taemin groaning the hottest noise Jonghyun has ever heard into his mouth, turns into him standing with his sweater half way over his head frantically whispering to Taemin that his bed is too squeaky and his family is trying to sleep.

He takes Taemin to the floor, sits on his hips and grinds down while Taemin fumbles with his own belt buckle, hands bumping Jonghyun's cock through his pajama pants. Jonghyun hadn't meant for this to happen, wasn't planning on fucking Taemin, but he doesn't want to stop.Taemin doesn't either, says god no when Jonghyun asks and that's enough of a reason to Jonghyun to keep going. He's pushing Taemin's shirt up while Taemin is trying to reach up onto his bed for a pillow, and it's rushed and it's messy, but Jonghyun discovers that Taemin not only has studs along the V of his but also one over his belly button, bars through his nipples, and, best of all, when he pulls Taemin's pants down, four of us small silver balls like an X around the head of his cock.

Lube from his desk, three fingers deep into his own ass, thumb tracing over every piercing on Taemin's hips, so hard it hurts, almost delirious with want, Jonghyun barely hears Taemin when he says, "I've always thought you were cute."

The piercings in his collar bones glint in the light, his skin glistens with summer sweat, the sharp angle of his jawline, the shadow of his adam's apple bobbing in his throat, the raw edge on his voice as he says, "I've always liked you, ever since we were kids, I've always–I don't know when it turned into a crush, but I–god that feels so good. Oh my fucking god." Halfway down Taemin's cock, Taemin grabs Jonghyun's hips and pulls him down all the way, knocks the breath from his lungs. "Jonghyun," he says, "more."

Jonghyun gives him more until he can't anymore, until his thighs are burning and his arms are trembling. Taemin removes the effort for him by turning them around until he's on his back. Taemin fucks him like that, tries to kiss him more but quickly gives up and buries his face in Jonghyun's neck instead. With "you're perfect, you're perfect, you're so fucking perfect, " breathed under his ear, Jonghyun hooks his leg around Taemin's back, pulls him in harder, faster, whispers his own pleads back, begs Taemin to bite him, bite his neck.

Taemin bites him, hard, and that's how he comes, body frozen underneath him until he goes all the way limp, only barely registering in some faraway part of his brain Taemin's choked breaths and the warmth pooling inside of him. He's weak, hazy, loopy, giggling, and Taemin's gentle hands are on him again, picking him up, putting him on his knees, and Jonghyun is glad to obey, glad to do whatever the fuck when he's this blissed-out.

Quiet curses as hands smooth over his back, the softest "oh, wow," whispered as fingers trace his constellations, and then the deepest groan as Taemin's tongue touches his skin. Jonghyun's eyes fly open, his voice rises three octaves, he slaps both hands over his mouth to stifle the noises he's making, noises he’s never made before in his life. The moment that he realizes that Taemin has a tongue stud is the moment that everything goes white, and then the next moment, everything goes dark.

The next morning he wakes up alone, in his bed, pajama pants back on, candle burned all the way down to nothing, window closed. He's not angry, or hurt, but he is a little grumpy all day long until he walks up to the entrance of the apartment complex after work and Taemin is sitting on one of the big potted plants outside the door.

He stands up when Jonghyun gets close to him, presses a large jar candle of the scent from last night into his hands, and, blinking a mile a minute, blurts out, "hey, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for last night when I told you I was in love with you and then fucked you and then panicked and left," to which Jonghyun, baffled, wracking his memory, replies, "did you tell me you're in love with me?"

Which kicks Taemin's blinking into overdrive, starts up a long, stammering babble that Jonghyun can confidently say he understands about 20% of. After a minute he realizes that Taemin isn't going to stop, so he interrupts him by asking, "Taemin, do you want to go on a date?"

A few days later, they share a mountain of fries on an outside table at some burger joint. Taemin, embarrassed, reading notes from his phone, admits that he's had a crush on Jonghyun for what feels like forever but was always too shy and infatuated to make a move. Jonghyun, embarrassed, scratching the back of his head, admits that he just got suddenly horny for the piercings one day and was a little too impulsive in making his move. Both of them, laughing, agree that it would probably be nice to work towards a middle ground together.