“Excuse me,” a new voice echoed through the bathroom. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I beg your pardon?” my captor asked.

Dark hair, a long flowing skirt, and a teacher stare that could intimidate the misbehaving ticks off a dog entered the bathroom. “I said, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Watch your language!” Natasha’s mom shouted. “My daughter is here. This is a school!”

“And that’s my coworker on your hip,” Janet pointed at me. “And your daughter just watched you kidnap her fully functioning Little teacher. I think she can handle me expressing the extent of my outrage.” Her stance was wide. I knew right then that I wasn’t leaving on this particular giant’s hip.