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Jamie doesn’t hear the end of it for days.
If it’s not about how friendly Miss Clayton is––how warm she is, how she’d wrapped Flora in the most wonderful hug on the first day, how big she smiles when Flora or her classmates answer a question right, make her laugh, or really seems to do anything at all––it’s about cool she is, how American, and that? That is something Jamie simply cannot abide.
“I remember when you used to call me cool,” Jamie sighs wistfully, sliding a bowl of ramen in front of Flora before sinking into her seat across from her. “Not some…” She waves a hand, vaguely, crinkling her nose, “American.”
or: as long as it's mattered to jamie, it's always been her and flora. always, that is, until dani clayton, flora's year four teacher.
Bookmarked by Anastasia_c
07 Dec 2020