All the fight went out of Natasha’s mother. I could literally feel it. She sat me back on the changing table, took her daughter by the hand and walked out of my life. My coworker, my friend, walked up to me and twisted the pacifier knob.

I spit it out the second my jaw could work. “Thanks.” Two hands on the edge, I slid off the table, dangling for a moment before I let go and my feet touched the ground.

“No problem,” she said. “Tracy called my room and told me to check up on you.”

I picked my pants off the floor and started pulling them up. “I’m glad she did.”

“Me too,” Janet agreed. “I’d hate to lo…” She stopped herself. I held my breath, still feeling incredibly vulnerable. “I’m glad I caught you…I’m glad I stopped her in time. A regular Raine Forrest that one is.”

“We need to talk.” I said.

“I agree.”

“After school.”

“Sure.” She turned around to go.

“Janet!” I called out. “Wait!” She turned back around. “I can’t undo the tapes.” I looked down at the pink plastic monstrosity wrapped around me. There was no way I was wearing a diaper the rest of the day. “Little hands can’t really handle Amazonian level adhesive.”

I pulled my pants the rest of the way up but left them unbuttoned. Gingerly, Janet knelt down and undid the tapes while I stood there. Once it was loose, I gave her a nod and she gave me my privacy so I could finish taking the thing off and button up my pants and refasten my belt.

I didn’t cry but I was pretty useless the rest of the day. I was just stuck in my own head, playing and replaying my almost adoption/abduction and trying to figure out what I could have done differently or what I did to deserve it. Fortunately, it being the last week of school, even I could get away with popping in an old DVD and introducing my class to the joys of the Muffets.

Tracy volunteered to take our kids out to the buses by herself. I gave her the biggest hug I could muster and thanked her. I wasn’t specific, but I’m pretty sure she knew I wasn’t JUST thanking her for giving me a break with bus duty.

Janet wasn’t in her room immediately after school, but she’d forgotten to lock her door. Not wanting to wait in the heat, I decided to let myself in. Looking back on it, I wish I hadn’t.

I took a student chair and pushed it over to her desk. This was how we were positioned before I’d almost ruined our friendship; so this is how it should be now that I was taking steps to fix it. I climbed into the chair and waited. I’d be sitting there waiting for her when she came back, ready to apologize and hash things out.

I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Then my eyes started to wander. Nervously, I started to play with drawers. They were empty, mostly, of course. Teachers spend the last week filing things away and boxing and binning stuff. I didn’t expect to find anything other than some spare pencils and paper clips. My fiddling was less spying, and more fidgeting in the silence of the empty classroom. Where was she anyway?

The last drawer I opened had something in it. A pamphlet, colored light blue and pink, the logo on the front being a woman and her child holding hands in silhouette. Except the body proportions made the smaller one look less like a child, and more like a Little. It was a Little Voices logo.

I read the title: “Adopting a Little – What to Expect The First Year.”

I didn’t bother opening it, instead flipping to the back and skimming over a vast list of online resources. Subjects like “Symptoms of Maturosis”, “Finding the Developmental Plateau,” “De-escalating Tantrums”, and “Potty Anxiety” were all listed along with websites to visit for greater detail. This was a mini-manual on how to capture and mind fuck Littles. And it was in Janet’s desk.

“Clark?” Janet said as she entered her room. “Sorry about that. I thought I was supposed to meet you in your room. If Tracy hadn’t caught me and told me where you were, I would’ve…” she looked at me. I was so mad I was practically frothing. “Where did you get that?”

“We need to talk.”

“Did you rip it in half?”

I looked down at the torn pamphlet halves in each of my hands. I didn’t even remember doing that. “We need to talk.”

I couldn’t tell if she was sad or angry. Maybe both. “Yeah. I guess you’re right…”