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isn’t going to give me the information I will find it myself.
    I pick up the phone and call the only other person I can think of who would know the teacher’s name and info.
    “Hi, Aspen. I’m sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you helped Dex get Grace into school?”
    “Yes I did. Is everything all right?”
    “Not really, though I’ll save that for another time. You wouldn’t happen to know the name of the teacher would you?”
    “Her name is Miss Baxter. I also have the school’s address, phone number, and the headmaster’s info. Would you like that information?”
    “You are an angel. Yes, I’d love it.” She recites the info and I jot it down quickly. “And Aspen, if you wouldn’t mind keeping this little conversation between us I would really appreciate it.”
    She snickers. “Uh oh, someone messed with momma bear’s cub, huh?”
    “Something like that.”
    “Is this one of those don’t ask permission, ask forgiveness later types of things?” she asks.
    I laugh; she knows me too well.
    “No, this is an ‘I’m the president and if you can’t do your job right I will have you removed’ kind of thing.”
    “Yep, momma bear mode. Go get her, girl. Although I won’t say anything to Dex, you know he’s going to find out, and he’s gotten a lot more scary in the last few years. If he comes sniffing my way I’m totally ratting you out.”
    I chuckle at her honesty. “Fair enough. Thanks again for your help, Aspen.”
    Luckily the school for the children whose parents work at the Ministry is connected to the Ministry, so it isn’t far to walk. I gather my things and get ready to leave for the night. On the way to the school, I think about how confrontational I’ve had to become this past year. Normally I hate confrontation and get sick thinking about it. In my new position I’ve had to learn ridiculously fast how to throw my punches and keep up with the big kids. I still feel like I’m going to throw up every single time I have to really assert myself, although I think I have even Masters snowed now.
    The idea of getting into it with a teacher has my stomach in knots, even if she isn’t my teacher. However, being friends with Wes has taught me many things, and if there’s anything I can’t stand it’s having a standard mold. Grace may be different, but she’s smart and sweet and can use all the kindness and understanding she can get. To tell a child she isn’t ready for school is absurd. The school better get ready for her…or me anyway.
    When I arrive at the school I’m glad to see the children have left for the day. I’m hoping I’ll be able to catch Miss Baxter before she leaves. If not I can always use the intimidation factor and have her officially summoned to my office, though I’d like to give her the benefit of the doubt. I open the door to the classroom and feel relief to see her at her desk. She is much younger than I expected; barely twenty or so. Maybe she hasn’t had a lot of experience with special needs children. That’s certainly understandable, and I’m hoping this can be done as painlessly as possible. I put on my friendliest smile and approach her.
    She is completely lost in whatever she is doing and when she sees me approach she speaks without even looking up.
    “I don’t see anyone without an appointment.”
    “I apologize, Miss Baxter. I didn’t mean to come at a bad time. I’m President Rosaline Thatcher and I have something I would like to discuss with you if you have a moment.”
    She looks up sharply, surprised to see the president in her classroom. I see a bit of worry cross her face even though she tries to hide her nervousness.
    “Of course, Miss President, please have a seat.”
    I sit down and decide to dive right in. It’s always hard for me to address people who are older than me. I hate to sound condescending, but there is no way around it this time, I’m afraid. No one likes to be told they aren’t doing their job right, let