After the program, tables in the foyer held cookies and informational packets. Ms. Yoruba Dane—tall, dark-skinned, silver earrings like small moons—introduced herself to Rhea and Imani with a handshake that meant business.
"I read the summary," Ms. Dane said quietly, not performing privacy but practicing it. "I don't run my seminar as a holding pen. If Imani joins, she joins as a mathematician. Full stop."
Rhea studied her. "And if someone frames it as removal from core?"
"Then they can frame it to my face," Ms. Dane said. "I have tenure and a low tolerance for soft exile."
Imani felt a small unclenching. Allies did not erase systems. They made systems harder to operate without witnesses.
Mr. Ellery approached as Ms. Dane moved to greet another family. He spoke to Rhea first, correctly.
"The department is… discussing norms around stressor items," he said. "Slowly. I pushed. Not as far as you would. Farther than some wanted."
"I'll believe the norms when they're written and distributed," Rhea said. "Until then, we keep our logs."
"Understood." He looked at Imani. "Your office-hour work is excellent. You're impatient with messy arithmetic when your structure is right. That's a real habit to watch—not a moral failing. Just a habit."
Imani blinked. Feedback without ranking. She filed it beside her other complicated feelings about him. "Okay. I'll watch it."
On the bus home—family night ran late; Rhea had switched shifts—Imani rested her head on her mother's arm.
"Is it weird that I still want him to be a good teacher?" she asked.
"No," Rhea said. "It's human. Wanting goodness from people who harmed you is not the same as forgetting the harm. Just don't confuse wanting with receiving."
---
November arrived with thinner light and a quiz.
Mr. Ellery distributed papers face down. "All items are complete as written," he said, and a few students glanced at Imani before they could stop themselves. She kept her face still. Being the reason a policy sentence existed was a strange fame.
She worked the quiz carefully. Near the end she found a problem that was hard in the honest way—constraints present, path non-obvious, solution real. She felt her mind stretch and land. When she turned the paper in, her hands were steady.
After class he said, not loudly, "You set a clean path on number seven."
"Thanks."
In the hallway Sutton muttered something about teacher's pet. Cole said, "You're just mad you left number four blank." Sutton shoved past. No fists. Halberd's violence was mostly social, which did not make it gentle.