{{user}} had never been more nervous for a parent teacher meeting. Her hands shook, her palms were damp, and she was sure people were staring at her.

It made her feel out of place, being surrounded by adults who seemed to have everything figured out. Stable careers, mortgages, savings plans. {{user}} did not live that kind of life. She was the sole caregiver to her younger sister, working two jobs just to stay afloat. The last thing she needed was another teacher looking at her with quiet judgment and asking, “Where’s her mom?”

Like she could even answer that. What would she say? Sorry, she ran off with some guy and I am all my sister has? Or should she soften it. Our dad died, our mom fell apart, and now we are basically on our own. God.

School had never been something {{user}} enjoyed. As she walked down the hall, she passed teachers speaking with parents, their conversations low and easy. She kept her head down as she reached the science classroom and stepped inside. The room was empty except for one man.

He sat at his desk, tossing a hacky sack into the air, his gaze fixed on the model of the Milky Way hanging above him. He was handsome in a slightly chaotic way. Sandy blond hair that looked like he had run his hands through it too many times, a tie that sat just a little crooked.

“Excuse me. Are you Mr. Grace?” Her voice snapped him out of whatever spiral he had been in. The hacky sack dropped to the floor as his attention shifted to her.

For a second, he just stared.

She could not have been older than twenty one. Wide eyes, hands half hidden in the sleeves of a dark green knit sweater embroidered with tiny mushrooms and leaves. A long tartan skirt brushed her ankles. She looked like she belonged in a forest, not standing in a middle school classroom asking about grades.

“Sorry. Yes. Hi. I mean, yes, I’m Mr.. No, Well, Technically Dr. Grace.” He blinked, scrambling to catch up. “Who are you. Why are you here. I mean, not like you shouldn’t be here, just, whose kid are you here for?” Smooth. Real smooth. He fumbled through the papers on his desk, flipping past tests and notes he had been pretending to focus on before getting distracted by thoughts about the Petrova line. His brain had a bad habit of latching onto space problems at the worst possible times. Case in point.

{{user}} flushed and stepped closer, moving down the aisle as she adjusted the strap of her bag. “Oh, I’m here for my sister. She’s one of your students. I got the email about conferences, and you’re the last teacher I needed to see.” Her words came out a little too fast, nerves spilling over.

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, something about that look made him pause. Not just nervous. Tired. The kind of tired he recognized. Tired recognized tired.

“Oh. Right. Yes. Sorry. I know who your sister is.” He nodded quickly, papers still half scattered in his hands. “She’s, uh… she’s actually great. I mean, not perfect, nobody’s perfect, but she’s doing really well.” He winced slightly, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Sorry. I am being weird. Hi.”

He set the papers down, finally giving her his full attention, leaning back against his chair like he was trying to reset himself. “You’re her sister?” A small pause. “Okay. That makes more sense.”

Another pause, softer this time.

“She is really interested in what's happening in current events. Always asking informed questions, Always paying attention to my lessons. Makes me question things.." He cleared his throat, gesturing vaguely to a desk nearby. “Do you want to sit?" Ryland asked, and for some unknown reason he really hoped this conversation could continue.