Author's Note: Written for diva_off Round One.
First Day Jitters; Emma Pillsbury, 429 words; Rated PG
Emma locked herself in a stall in the second floor restroom, far removed from her shiny new office with the shiny new pencils and folders and everything in its place. She'd spent hours over the past week, before school started, polishing, prepping and making sure to the best of her ability that come the first day of school, it would go off without a hitch.
She hadn't counted on walking in that morning and seeing a line of students stretching halfway down the hall, all of them there to see her, seek her advice.
It had been all a bit overwhelming, at least at first.
Nothing she couldn't handle, though, not until a blubbering brunette freshman walked in, hands buried in her hair. Her sweater was stained with the remains of what appeared to be something sticky and violet-hued.
Her stomach began to knot up; she felt the all-too-familiar rise of bile in her throat as she felt herself fixating on the stain, how it would be impossible to get out, how she wanted to help but just couldn't - not now. She muttered a quick apology under her breath and sprinted out the door of her office, leaving the girl sitting there bewildered.
She'd left home, gone to school, got her degree, and ended up here, in a small town in Ohio no one had ever heard of, all because of one of her friends from school recommending her to the local school board. She was hundreds of miles from home; home was where she was safe, this wasn't home. How could she do her job, if she wasn't even three hours into her first day and already, she was heaving sobs into bunched-up toilet paper?
A part of her wanted to leave now, drive away, never look back - pack up her tiny apartment, the one she just moved into the month before, and leave Lima, leave Ohio, go back to where she knew everyone and everything, where she felt safe and loved and the students weren't relying on her for help.
She stood there for what felt like an eternity, sucking in deep breaths from between gritted teeth and feeling the breaths flow back out with her tears.
The bell trilled from overhead; she gingerly unlocked the door and looked at herself in the mirror. She dabbed away the stray tears still glistening on her cheeks, fluffed her hair and applied a fresh coat of lipstick.
She almost, if one didn't look closely enough to see the sadness and fear reflected in her eyes, appeared normal.