Emma parked the bug at the curb and headed for the door to the sheriff's station. She'd met Henry for breakfast at Granny's, again, and seen him off to school; he'd been staying exclusively with Regina since little Emma came to town, and Emma found herself really missing him. Breakfast dates were nice, but she still felt she was missing out.
She reached the door and slid her key into the lock in a smooth motion she was used to doing every day, multiple times a day. This time, though, it didn't work. She tried again, but the lock wouldn't turn. She knelt down and looked into the lock, then tried one more time. She could feel that the key wasn't sliding back all the way; something was blocking it. Emma felt in her pockets for something to use to unjam the lock, then, finding her pockets empty of anything useful, looked around on the ground. She found a paperclip and unbent it. Using the paperclip, she fished around in the lock, unlodging something from the back and coaxing it out through the keyhole.
Emma held it up to the light. It was a small piece of metal or wire, maybe even a broken piece of another paperclip. Holding the piece of metal in her left hand, she used her right hand to insert her key again. This time, it slid in and unlocked with a click.
David arrived at the station and found Emma at her desk, in front of her computer. Walking behind her, he saw that she was watching security camera footage at triple speed.
"Is that here? At the station?" David asked, leaning in.
"Yeah," Emma said. "I think someone tried to jimmy the lock. There was something in it when I got here."
"What was it?"
Emma shook her head. "I'm not sure, just some little piece of metal. But I've picked enough locks to know the signs of someone doing it badly."
David nodded, choosing to ignore the reference to his daughter's past activities of questionable legality. Suddenly he pointed to the screen. "There! Stop!"
Emma paused the video. There it was, on the screen: someone in dark clothing was fiddling with the lock on the door, trying to get in. She pressed play again. They tried for a few minutes, but couldn't pick the lock. They turned around suddenly; there was no sound on the video, but it looked like they could have heard a voice or a car passing by. Then they ran.
Emma rolled the video back to the moment the person turned around; it was the only clear look at their face. She zoomed in. It was a boy. He looked to be somewhere between about 13 and 17 years old. She zoomed in again and really focused on his face. He looked familiar.
"Who…" David began, leaning over Emma's shoulder to look at the screen. "Is that one of the Lost Boys?"
David and Emma looked at each other. "Do you think Pan's back?" David asked.
Emma turned back to the video. "Regina cast a monitoring spell around the town, so we'd know if he'd opened a portal. But I do want to know why this kid was trying to break in to a police station."
Snow stood near the window and looked around the classroom. The children were at their desks, quietly working out of their math books. She felt like she'd spent the whole morning overthinking the most basic things she did every single school day. She'd thought too much about where to have Emma sit: she wanted Emma to be close to her own desk, so that she could easily ask a question if she needed to, but she didn't want to make Emma feel like she was breathing down her neck, so she'd settled on an empty desk toward the back of the room, near the fish tank. Snow had thought too much about how to introduce Emma to the class: she wanted to say the right thing, but not say too much, and not embarrass Emma. She knew it was overthinking. She knew it was silly to stress so much about every detail. But she so wanted everything to go well.
Little Emma sat at her desk. The day had gone fine, so far, she thought. Storybrooke Elementary School seemed nice, and other relationships aside, Mary Margaret was definitely one of the nicest teachers Emma had had. She was used to first days at new schools, used to being the new kid in the back of the class. She was used to always feeling a little behind and not knowing what all the other kids already understood, but she wasn't used to caring so much about what her teachers thought.
She stared at the math problems in the book. The page was full of numbers and symbols that perplexed her; some of them she didn't even understand. She was working through the problems one by one and growing increasingly frustrated. She was on number 17 now, starting over for the third time. She'd already rubbed a hole in her paper with her eraser. She saw the blond boy in front of her put down his pencil and close his book. Realizing he was already done made Emma feel even worse. Then the bell rang.
"Alright, everyone," Snow began, rubbing her hands together absentmindedly as she looked about the classroom. "Put your books away. If you've finished the assignment, you can put it on my desk. If you're not done yet, finish it up tonight for homework. I'll see you after lunch!"
The children grabbed their lunches and headed for the door. Emma stood and grabbed her lunch box out of her desk.
Snow found herself overthinking the situation again. She wavered for a moment, then called, "Emma?"
Emma turned around and saw Snow standing, wringing her hands. The rest of the children filed out to the hallway and toward the cafeteria, so Snow and Emma were soon left alone in the classroom. "I, um, usually eat my lunch in here," Snow began, then rushed to continue. "But you don't have to! Unless you want to. I, just - how are you doing?"
Emma forced a smile. "I'm fine," she said.
Snow and Emma stood looking at one another for a moment; neither spoke.
Finally, Emma held up her lunch box. "I guess I'll just go...have lunch," she said, motioning to the door.
Snow nodded. "Do you want me to walk you to the cafeteria?"
Emma shook her head. "I'll find it," she said.
It was a cold day, but the children didn't mind; they always just bundled up and went out to play at recess anyway. Henry finished his lunch and ran to the playground. He and the other fifth graders had started playing tetherball a lot lately, and he liked to be the first on the court, when he could.
He won against Hansel, then won again against Melinda, then lost to Bridget. He waited out for a game, and then played against Melinda again. He was doing well, getting into a nice rhythm: whack, whack, whack. He hit the yellow ball as hard as he could, hoping it would slip out of Melinda's grasp and wind itself tight around the pole. He didn't see the girl walking past at just the wrong moment, and hit the ball with all his strength - right into her face.
She doubled over from the impact, and Henry rushed to her. "I'm so sorry!" he blurted out. "I didn't see you! Are you okay?"
She looked up at him. She was holding her hands to her face, and there was blood dripping out of her nose, but all it took was one look into her eyes. There was no mistaking it. He had just hit little Emma in the face with a tetherball.
"I'm...I'll be fine," Emma said, still trying to contain the blood running from her nostrils.
He stood, a little stunned. "I'm Henry," he said.
"Emma," she said. "Um, where's the bathroom?"
"We should take you to the nurse," he said, putting an arm lightly around her shoulder and leading her back toward the school building.
Snow intercepted Henry and Emma in the hallway. At first, she was just surprised to see them together. "Emma? Henry? What's going on?" Emma, who had been walking hunched over in an attempt to contain the blood to just her hands, looked up when she heard her name called. Snow saw the bright red blood streaking Emma's face and gasped.
"What happened?" she said as she ran down the hall.
Henry answered. "I hit her in the face with a tetherball." Snow looked at him, her eyes wide. "I didn't mean to," he said.
"Oh, of course not honey," Snow said quickly. She turned to Emma again. "Come on, let's go see the nurse."
The school nurse cleaned up Emma's face and had her hold ice against her nose. Snow hovered nearby, and Henry stayed close to her. "I didn't know it was her," he whispered. "I didn't mean to meet her."
"I know, Henry. Don't worry, it's fine." Snow smiled. "Thanks for taking care of her."
Henry smiled back. Snow whispered again. "Your grandpa and I are missing you a lot."
"Me too," Henry responded.
"Well," the nurse said, turning briefly to Snow, "I don't think it's broken."
Snow exhaled. "That's a relief," she said, taking a step to stand directly behind Emma, and putting her hands on her shoulders.
The nurse looked back at Emma. "Just keep that ice on it for a bit. And if it's still hurting in an hour or so, let your mom know, okay?"
Emma's went slightly pink when the nurse said "mom," but the ice pack hid her blush from the others. She nodded.
"I'm really sorry, Emma," Henry said, again. "I hope you feel better soon."
Emma smiled at him. "It's okay," she said. "Thanks, Henry."