Page 21 of When I Thug You Like That

“Nope. One will turn into two, and your mom will be here any minute. I don’t wanna keep her waiting. Let’s get to it please.”

I stood from the chair I sat in, but he didn’t make an attempt to pause what he was watching.

“But I…”

I put my hand on my hip and cocked my head to the side. “Tristan.”

Sighing dramatically, he locked the tablet and walked over to his bag, shoving it inside.

“Thank you. Clean up your area, then we’ll go up front to wait on your mom.”

“This not mine.” He pointed to a juice box that one of the other kids left behind.

“You mind throwing it away for me?”

He stared at it for a few seconds, like he was debating whether it was something he wanted to challenge me on or not. Always prepared, I waited him out. Crossing my arms, I shifted my weight to one side. He glanced up at me with a sly smile. His little ass thought he was so slick. I had to press my lips together to keep from laughing.

“If I throw it away, can I use my iPad longer?”

“Boy, pick it up.” I laughed, and he did as I instructed. “Then, I need you to grab your bookbag, so we can…”

The afterhours buzzer went off, letting me know that someone was at the front door. That caught his attention, and he went to make a run for the door, quickly forgetting the task that I’d assigned.

“Aht, aht,” I let out, “where you going without your bookbag, Dash Parr?” I chuckled, picking it up for him.

He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “My mommy here.”

“I know. You still need your stuff. Or you want Ms. Jai to take it home? I think Spider-Man looks good on me.” I went to put my arms through the straps, and he ran over. “That’s what I thought. Come on.”

I handed him the bag, grabbed my own, and turned the light off as we exited the classroom. We made our way toward the front entrance with me convincing him to count the tiles on the floor to distract him from the urge to run again. Now that his mother had arrived, my day was officially over, and I didn’t need any accidents on my watch that I had to report. Through the glass doors, I could see his mother with her hand up to her head, rocking side to side, showing evidence of her anxiousness and frustration. Entering the code on the keypad, the doors unlocked, allowing her access.

“I am so sorry.” The apology left her mouth before she was fully through the door. “I got held up at work, and my manager wouldn’t let me leave then that traffic. God, I didn’t think it would be this late. I know I have to pay that late fee, but I…” She paused to take a breath and pinched the bridge of her nose.

Her body language said she was on the verge of a breakdown. I could identify with those feelings closely. While I didn’t have a child, I knew what it felt like to be overwhelmed.

“Ma!” Tristan pushed between us, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Hey, baby,” she spoke, placing her arm around him.

The orange Popeyes shirt underneath her jean jacket looked wrinkled, her visor was shoved halfway in her purse, and her bun that I was sure was neatly pulled to the back of her head when she began her morning now had a few loose strands that had escaped. She looked exhausted.

“You’re fine, Ms…”

“Let’s go, Mommy!” Tristan interrupted, now pulling at her arm.

“We’re going, Tristan. Give Mommy a second. I’m talking,” she replied softly.

“I wanna goooo,” he dragged, his pull now turning into an aggressive yank.

She barely reacted. “Don’t do that, baby. I said I’m coming. Remember what we said about safe hands.”

“No! I wanna go!” He brought his hand up, and before he could bring it down onto hers, he heard my voice.

“Oh no, sir.” My voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. The sternness in my tone was enough to get his attention. “May I?” I asked for his mother’s permission, and she nodded all too quickly.

I stepped around until I was in front of him and lowered myself until we were eye level.

“Where do our hands stay?”