An Invitation You Can't Decline
The next few days passed in the dull haze of early spring—gray skies, slush on the sidewalks, restless students vibrating with the desperation for any excuse to escape the classroom.
Amanda kept her head down. Routine was her oxygen: lectures, grading, polite smiles in the hallways. Every moment carefully managed, no surprises.
Angela Giarratana, it turned out, was a walking, talking surprise.
Amanda first spotted her perched cross-legged on the main office counter, chatting animatedly with the secretary. The next day, she saw Angela mediating a "crisis" between two seniors arguing over a missing sweatshirt with the patience of a saint and the humor of a stand-up comic.
And somehow, without Amanda ever saying yes, Angela kept finding reasons to drift into her orbit.
First, it was casual comments in the lounge.
"You look like you need coffee and a vacation," Angela said one morning, plopping into the seat across from Amanda without waiting for an invitation.
Amanda blinked at her over the rim of her mug. "I'm fine."
Angela only grinned, undeterred. "'Fine' is teacher code for 'one passive-aggressive email away from a breakdown.'"
Amanda should have been annoyed. She was annoyed.
And yet…
Later that week, Amanda found a sticky note in her mailbox.
Counselor Hotline: For all your "I'm about to lose it" needs. Text or call. No judgment.
Angela's number was scrawled beneath, alongside a doodle of a coffee cup and a tiny, waving stick figure.
Amanda snorted—an actual, unfiltered laugh that startled her—and quickly shoved the note into her bag before anyone could see.
She told herself she wouldn't use it.
Of course she wouldn't use it.
Two days later, Angela caught her after seventh period, leaning casually against the doorway to Amanda’s classroom as students filed out.
"Still waiting for you to cash in that hotline," Angela said, winking.
Amanda gave her a look. "I don't need counseling."
"Everyone needs counseling," Angela replied cheerfully. "Especially the ones who think they don't."
Amanda opened her mouth to argue—and promptly closed it when a knot of tension she hadn't noticed tightened in her chest.
Angela tilted her head, studying her with those disarmingly kind eyes. "Tell you what. No therapy. Just coffee. Neutral territory."
Amanda hesitated.
Angela held up her hands in mock surrender. "Totally casual. No feelings allowed. We can talk about how terrible the cafeteria pizza is, if that helps."
Amanda huffed a reluctant laugh. "I'll think about it."
Angela grinned like she’d already won.
As Amanda gathered her papers, she realized—to her own mild horror—that a very small, very stubborn part of her was already thinking about it.
And maybe… maybe she was tired of being fine.