The hallways of Abbott Elementary were unusually quiet. Even the constant hum of the fluorescent lights overhead seemed subdued as if the school itself was holding its breath. Ava stood in her office, staring out the window with a distant gaze. The weight of the decision she had made sat heavily on her shoulders, a decision she knew would change everything. There was no going back now.
The door creaked open softly, and Janine appeared in the doorway. The sight of her—short and unassuming, her eyes wide with worry—stirred something in Ava’s chest. Janine was always there, no matter what. The perky, relentless positivity that had initially driven Ava crazy had now become a constant source of light in the dark. Ava had grown fond of her—more than she ever thought she could.
Janine stepped into the room, her eyes filled with concern, her hands wringing nervously in front of her. “Ava…” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly. “You’re really going through with this, aren’t you?”
Ava didn’t turn immediately, only gave a small, quiet nod. She couldn’t bring herself to face Janine just yet. She wasn’t ready to show her the depth of her feelings. It was too raw, too exposed.
“Ava, please…” Janine’s voice cracked, a tear already forming in the corner of her eye. She was so sensitive—Janine wore her heart on her sleeve, and it broke Ava to see her like this.
Ava sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over her face. “You, Barbra, Melissa, Jacob, Gregory... you’ve all been through enough already. The district was going to make you guys take the fall. I won’t let that happen. You guys have given everything to this school—you don’t deserve it. It’s my responsibility. It’s my fault.” She paused, swallowing hard. “I let this go too far. I didn’t do enough when I should’ve.”
Janine shook her head quickly, her tears threatening to fall. “Ava, you—" She choked on her words, her voice breaking. "You’ve changed so much. You’ve worked so hard. You’ve made a difference. I—I can’t... I can’t imagine this place without you. We need you here. The kids need you. I need you."
Ava’s throat tightened. She had known this moment was coming, but hearing it out loud made it hit harder than she ever could’ve anticipated. She had done so much to push people away in the past, always keeping them at arm’s length. But now, with Janine standing there, looking so devastated, it felt like the walls she had so carefully built around herself were crashing down.
Janine wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, her voice trembling as more tears streamed down her face. “I—I don’t want to lose you, Ava. Please don’t go. I don’t know what we’ll do without you.”
Ava closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. She had always been so guarded, so distant. She’d never let anyone in. But Janine... Janine was different. She’d been there for Ava when no one else had when Ava was still trying to figure out what it meant to be a good principal when Ava was still wrapped up in her own fear and insecurity. Janine had never wavered. She had always believed in her.
Janine couldn’t keep the tears from falling now, they just kept on coming.
Ava’s heart ached as she saw Janine, this strong, compassionate woman, completely undone. Janine’s vulnerability had always been part of what Ava admired about her, but now, seeing her in such distress made Ava realize just how much she had taken for granted.
“Janine…” Ava said softly, her voice gentle but firm. She took a step forward and reached out to wipe a tear from Janine’s cheek. “You have to stop crying.”
Janine looked up at her, her eyes red and puffy, and for a moment, Ava wondered if she was asking too much. But then she saw the concern, the care, and the sorrow in Janine’s eyes, and it made Ava’s chest tighten. She wasn’t used to people seeing her like this—seeing her vulnerable, seeing her weak. But Janine had always seen her for who she truly was.
“I know you don’t want to hear this,” Ava continued, her voice softening even more. “But this is the right thing to do. I’m doing this for you—for the teachers and the kids, for all of us. I’m not doing it because I want to leave, Janine. I’m doing it because I care.”
Janine sniffled, wiping her eyes again, trying to pull herself together. “But you’re everything to us, Ava. We don’t just need you as our principal... we need you here—with us. You’ve become so much more than just a boss to me. You’ve become my friend.”
Ava’s heart twisted. She had never been good at this—at letting people in, at accepting kindness and love. But Janine’s words... they stung in the best way. She had no idea how much Janine cared. She had no idea how much this school, this ragtag group of teachers and children, had come to mean to her.
The air in the room was thick with emotion, and Ava felt herself unraveling in a way she hadn’t in years. She’d built walls around herself for so long, convinced that keeping people at a distance was the only way to protect herself. But now, with Janine standing there, her voice full of gentle conviction, it felt as if those walls were crumbling.
"I don’t know how to say this without sounding... weak," Ava murmured, her voice barely a whisper. "But I’m scared, Janine. I’ve never let anyone in, and now, I’m scared of being alone. I don’t want to be alone anymore."
Janine’s heart ached at the vulnerability in Ava’s voice. Without thinking, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the taller woman, pulling her into an embrace. Ava tensed at first, her body stiff as she struggled with the unfamiliar feeling of being held. But then, something shifted—something inside her that had been locked away for so long finally softened. She let out a shaky breath and relaxed into Janine's warmth.
Janine held her tightly, not saying a word, just offering the kind of comfort that Ava had never known how to ask for. At that moment, it was as if time stood still—two women, so different yet connected by an understanding neither had ever spoken aloud before.
Still feeling Janine cry, Ava held her too, gently rubbing her back to comfort her. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you,” Janine whispered, her voice cracking again.
“It’s going to be okay,” Ava murmured, her voice low and soothing as if trying to convince herself as much as Janine. “You’ll be okay. I know it’s hard. But I promise you, this school is going to be fine. You’re going to be okay.”
Janine clung to her, not saying a word, just letting the tears flow freely. And Ava stood there, holding her, feeling something shift inside of her. It was hard. It was painful. But it was also... real. And maybe that was enough.
After a few moments, Janine finally pulled away, wiping her nose with the back of her hand and sniffling. Her eyes were puffy, but there was something softer in them now—a kind of understanding that hadn’t been there before.
“Don’t cry,” Ava whispered, her hand gently cupping Janine’s cheek, wiping away the last of her tears. Her voice was tender, filled with a kind of softness that Janine had never heard from her before. “I don’t like seeing you like this.”
Janine let out a shaky laugh, her eyes meeting Ava’s. “I can’t help it. I’m just... I’m just going to miss you so much.”
Ava smiled a small but genuine smile. “I’m not going anywhere, Janine. I might not be here every day, but you’ll always have me.”
Janine nodded, her expression still tinged with sadness but now more at peace. “I’m so proud of you, Ava. You’ve done so much. I just want you to know that.”
Ava’s chest tightened again, but it wasn’t with the usual weight of guilt or fear. It was something else—a feeling she couldn’t quite put into words. "Thank you," she said softly. "For believing in me."
As they stood there, the weight of the moment hung in the air between them, but there was also a quiet kind of understanding. Ava had given something precious today—something she never thought she’d be able to give. And Janine, in return, had given her the one thing that Ava needed the most: acceptance, warmth, and a reminder that she was not alone.
The school might be losing its principal, but for the first time, Ava felt like she wasn’t losing herself. As they left the office together, side by side, Ava felt a small glimmer of hope. Maybe this wasn’t the end.