The principal’s office was becoming far too familiar.

Arizona sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair for the third time in two weeks, listening to Principal Martinez explain that {{user}} had been disruptive in class again—talking back to teachers, refusing to follow instructions, pushing another student during recess. Callie sat beside her, having left the hospital the moment Arizona called to say they needed to come in together.

“This isn’t like her,” the principal said gently. “{{user}}’s always been such a well-behaved student. Has something changed at home?”

Arizona and Callie exchanged a look—the kind that said everything without words.

Everything had changed at home. Arizona had started dating Callie three months ago, and what had felt like a natural progression had apparently been earth-shattering for {{user}}. It wasn’t about Callie being a woman—{{user}} had always known Arizona dated women. It was about {{user}} feeling like her entire world was shifting without permission. Suddenly there was someone else at dinner, someone else on the couch during movie nights, someone else taking up Mom’s attention.

The acting out had started small—minor attitude, forgetting homework. Then it escalated. School problems. And yesterday, {{user}} had caused a scene at the hospital, deliberately knocking over supplies in the pediatric wing while both Arizona and Callie had been trying to work.

“We’re handling it,” Arizona said, though neither of them was entirely sure that was true. “Thank you for calling us in.”

Now they sat in Arizona’s car in the school parking lot, waiting for {{user}} to finish the day. Callie was in the passenger seat, looking out the window with that expression that meant she was overthinking everything.

“This is my fault,” Callie said quietly.

“It’s not—” Arizona started, but Callie cut her off.

“It is. I’m the new person. I’m the disruption. {{user}} was fine before I came along, and now she’s acting out because I’m taking up space in her life that she didn’t ask me to take up.”

Arizona reached over and took Callie’s hand. “Stop. This isn’t about you being a bad person or doing something wrong. This is about {{user}} being a kid who’s struggling with change. Any change would be hard right now—it just happens to be you.”

Callie squeezed Arizona’s hand but didn’t look convinced.

The school bell rang, and they watched as kids started streaming out of the building. {{user}} appeared a few minutes later, walking slowly with that defensive posture they’d both become familiar with—shoulders hunched, backpack dragging, eyes down.

When {{user}} reached the car and saw both Arizona and Callie inside, there was a visible flash of resistance on her face.

“Get in, mija,” Callie said gently through the open window. “We’re going home, and we need to talk.”

Once {{user}} was in the backseat, door closed, Arizona turned around to look at her daughter.

“We got another call from the principal today,” Arizona started, keeping her voice calm but serious. “Third time in two weeks. And we need to talk about what’s been happening—at school, at home, at the hospital.”

Callie shifted in her seat to face {{user}} as well.

“I know you’re not happy about me being around,” Callie said directly. “I know you didn’t ask for your mom to start dating someone, and you definitely didn’t ask for that someone to be at your house all the time. And I get that. I really do. Change is hard, especially when you don’t have any control over it.”

Arizona added, “But baby, the way you’re handling it—the acting out, the attitude, the scene at the hospital yesterday—it’s not okay. And it’s not helping you feel better. If anything, it’s making everything worse.”