Emma's P.O.V

I look at my teacher. "Actually, I was wondering if you could tutor me." I tell her, looking down.

"Of course." she says. My head snaps up, and I see a large smile on her face.

"Really?" I ask quietly. She nods and we start walking. We make it to the school's front doors before she replies.

"Of course I will tutor you. You are failing my class." she tells me, as we make it to her car. I climb into the passenger seat, resting my book bag on the floorboard between my feet.

We buckle our seatbelts and she quickly starts the car, pulling out of the school parking lot. I watch the world pass by through the window as we drive down a familiar street.

In the middle of the block is the second largest house in Storybrooke. "108..." my voice trails off as she pulls into the driveway of it. Unconsciously my jaw drops.

"Close your mouth, querida. You'll catch flies." she tells me. I hastily close it and get out of her car. Book bag in hand, I shut the door and follow her into the mansion.

"You live here?" I ask. My voice is quiet. She laughs, the sound echoes filling the quiet.

"Yes. I inherited it when my mother died." she tells me. I look at her and she smiles at me. Then I notice the strand of hair on her lip. I giggle. "What?" she asks. I giggle as I watch the strand of hair on her lip move. "What is it?" she groans, growing impatient.

I take a deep breath and stand up straight. Reaching up to her face I pluck the hair from where it was stuck on her plump red lip. She blushes and looks at her feet. I watch as her hair covers her face and frown.

Sticking my point finger under her chin I lift her face and smile cheekily. "That's better. You look adorable when you blush." I compliment.

Her pink cheeks immediately turn red and she smiles. "Really?" she asks me.

I nod. "Freaking adorable." I murmur, touching her cheek. She leans into it before her eye grow wide and she recoils from my touch as if I burned her.

"You need to leave." she whispers. I frown, utterly confused.

"What did I do?" I ask. I have no idea what's going on. Ms. Mills looks at me and as if deciding that I'm telling the truth, nods.

"Nothing. Never mind." she brushes it off. I watch as she walks into the kitchen. After a moment I follow her. When I make it to the kitchen I notice her leaning against the counter sipping a glass of water. She sets the glass on the counter and leads me over to the kitchen table.

Once we're settled in she waits patiently for me to get a pencil and my homework out. She reads what I have written down and frowns. "Everything on this paper is wrong." she murmurs, pulling a green pen from her pocket.

She writes something down and hands me back my paper. I read her cursive handwriting and nod. "Wait-so if there's more than one it's unos and unas, but if there's only one it's un and una?" I ask skeptically.

She nods and points her pen at me. "Let's try something different. How about what we learned in class today?" she asks. I nod slowly, wondering what she's going to ask. "¿Cuantos años tienes?" she asks.

I smile, glad that I know the answer. "Tengo diez y nueve años." I reply. She nods.

"¿Cuantos años tiene tú profé?" she asks, smirking. I watch as she challenges me.

"Mi profé es tiene viente y tres años." I reply confidently. Her jaw drops slightly, going slack.

"Cómo-how did you guess my age?" she asks. I laugh and tap my pencil eraser on the table.

"You're the same age as-" I stop myself. "as my dad." I finish quietly. Tears begin to well up in my eyes and Ms. Mills pulls me into a hug again. I sob, burying my face in my teacher's shoulder. She hugs me tighter as I start to shake uncontrollably. My sobs slow and I finally stop crying and shaking after a few minutes.