Chill Out, Sir

Epilogue

Epilogue

4 years later...

I flopped onto the comfy couch, exhausted. If I had thought high school was tiring, then college was much worse, especially since I had to work part-time jobs.

I had made some new friends throughout my 4 years in London, and although I preferred my friends back in America, they were really nice. Speaking of which, I had a Skype conversation with Mike in 3 hours time. I decided it was time for a short nap before I went to pick—

My phone rang.

Or maybe not.

Groggily, I fished my phone out from my jeans pocket and answered the familiar number.

"Danielle speaking."

"Ms. Brooks, I'm afraid you have to come down to the school right now," Mrs. Stewart answered, her British accent prominent.

I sighed. "What did she do now?"

"She punched a boy in the face! That's really inexcusable!" she exclaimed.

"I'm sure she had a reason— fine, I'll come down now and we'll discuss this."

I sighed, running a hand down my face. So much for a nap.

Grabbing my keys, I slipped on my flats and went out. The walk to the school wasn't a long one as it was only a few blocks from my apartment building.

When I reached the school office, I knocked once and entered the office that I had to visit for the fifth time this month. The white walls of the office were lined with drawings by the kindergarten students here. I smiled when I spotted the familiar colorful drawing of a family.

"Ms. Brooks," Mrs. Stewart addressed me, "thank you for taking the time to come down here again."

"It's no problem," I replied. "Besides, if it has something to do with Tiffany, then I really have to come down."

"Mommy!" a little girl's voice squealed, and I felt a pair of tiny arms clinging onto my leg.

I smiled, looking down to find my 3-year-old daughter, Tiffany. However, as soon as I smiled, I forced myself to maintain a strict expression. I had to remind myself that she had actually punched a kid. God knows how much that poor child was crying right now.

I turned to Mrs. Stewart. "How's the kid?" I asked.

"His name is Tyler, and I'm pretty sure he's still crying," she responded, frowning.

I sighed for the umpteenth time, looking down once more to face Tiffany. She looked up at me, her eyes wide with innocence.

Or probably feigned innocence.

"Tiffany Stella Roberts, how many times do I have to tell you not to punch people!" I scolded. "No problems can be solved through violence."

Tiffany dropped her arms from my legs, twiddling he thumbs. She glanced at Mrs. Stewart for a second and dropped her gaze.

"Sowwy, Mommy..." she spoke in a small voice.

Her quivering, little voice made me dropped my strict facade. I dropped to my knees and cupped her small face, kissing her forehead.

"You should be saying sorry to Tyler, sweetheart, not me. I'll accompany you to apologise, alright?"

She nodded her head vigorously, her two brown ponytails bouncing. "Okay!"

I apologised in behalf of Tiffany to Mrs. Stewart, before leaving the office and school building. As school was already ending, I decided to wait for Tyler's mom to pick him up, so that I could apologise too.