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rosiexweil · 5 months

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At Arm's Length

One thing about Melissa Schemmenti is: she holds any newbie at arm's length- until that person proves themselves.

WC: ~4.8k

*not edited at all because it's late and I have to teach first grade tomorrow...*

One thing about Melissa Schemmenti is that she would hold anybody she first meets at arm’s length distance. Whether she liked someone perfectly fine, could tolerate them, or couldn’t stand them was unknown to any newcomer at Abbott Elementary. She did it with Jacob and Janine. She made it a point to not memorize Gregory’s name until the second month he had been working there. Hell, she had done it to Barbara- not that any of the newer employees at the school would know. But once you’re in with her, you’re stuck with her.

The “work wives”, as they called themselves, like to joke about it often- how Melissa would come in with a scowl on her face that would just barely lighten up as one of the older teachers their first few years would turn on the news, and Jim Gardner’s face would always be there to greet them as they practically inhaled their first cup of coffee.

But you didn’t know any of that. You came into the school bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, not a single hair out of place, ready for whatever this school was going to throw at you. Whether it be the students, the parents, even the other teachers- you knew you were ready for it. You had student taught in one of the neighboring districts, and even as you started filling out applications, people had warned you about Abbott. They warned you that the students had it hard and could often be “troublesome” (you didn't worry- you had been put on a student’s hitlist during student teaching, and that student bawled her eyes out when you left to graduate), that the administration was beyond questionable, the parents were a handful in itself, and you had been warned that the teachers were beyond cliquey. You had been told that their turnover rate was higher than any school in the surrounding area.

You walk into the school for the third student day, a fresh mug of coffee (your first of many) in hand and a smile on your face as you greet the women at the front desk. Of course they reply nicely, only to give each other looks as you turn your back to enter the hallways. They had seen far too many teachers enter just like you and leave in a puddle of tears.

You head into the staff room to put your lunch in the refrigerator when Janine quickly makes your presence known to the rest of the group.

“Hey! You’re-”

“Janine, will ya shut it?” Melissa asked in her low voice, Philly accent strong. “‘M trying to watch the damn news!”

Janine shrivels slightly and chooses to give you a small wave instead before turning back to her friends. “Sorry,” she mumbles as she takes a seat at a table away from the two veteran teachers.

You open the refrigerator, trying to find a spot to place your neatly packed salad. Keeping your head down, clearly not wanting to agitate Melissa any further, you stay silent as you bite your lip. You really don’t want to have to move anyone’s belongings in the fridge to make room for your own, but you just might have to.

“Oh Melissa,” Barb’s soothing voice cuts the tension. “She was just greeting our new teacher.”

“There’s been plenty of ‘em,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “Now let me watch.”

“Sweetheart, why don’t you take a seat with us?” Barb asks kindly. “Watch that handsome Jim Gardner with us.”

“Barb!” Melissa’s voice nearly booms, and it startles you. You had never seen, or rather heard, someone get so annoyed because someone was talking over the morning news. As you jump, head still in the refrigerator, you smack your head on the edge.

You hiss quietly, just enough to gather the attention from the others in the breakroom.

“Grab some ice from the nurse,” Jacob puts in, eyes half on you, half on the small screen in the corner. “I’ve done it plenty of-”

“For the love of Go-” Melissa takes a breath, huffing as she stands from her chair. “If anyone needs me, and youse better not, I’ll be in my classroom- watching Gardner in peace!”

As she’s making her dramatic exit based on anger, you just barely pull your head out of the kitchen appliance, rubbing at your head. You don't even mean to make eye contact with her- it just happens.

“Thanks a lot, newbie,” the fiery redhead nearly spits out at you.

You wish you hadn’t pulled your head out of the fridge if it meant not seeing those green eyes full of hatred.

That was your first encounter with Melissa, and you certainly hadn’t made a good impression. Your head was swirling as Janine guided you down towards the nurse, chatting your ear off the entire way. You didn’t know which was worse- Melissa’s anger or Janine’s incessant flow of consciousness.

It’s safe to say that’s the last time you enter the breakroom before classes start- or more accurately: it’s safe to say that’s the last time you enter the breakroom before classes start when Melissa Schemmenti is in there. Sometimes your salad pays for it, but you would rather have somewhat wilted spinach as opposed to the harsh green eyes you had seen from the redheaded second grade teacher.

---

You avoid her like the plague for the next few weeks, and you’re relatively successful. She’s only made a few snarky comments your way as you pass by in the halls. You hate it. You don’t know why she hates you, but she’s making it very apparent that your mere presence within the school is like the bane of her existence.

But today is dragging, the month of September in full swing, and your third graders are starting to get comfortable with you. They’re starting to learn your quirks, you’re starting to learn theirs, and you’re no longer the coolest person in the world. They’re starting to get into the grit of the lessons, try as you might to make it fun. It’s becoming a chore for them to sit at their desks for hours at a time, no matter how many brain breaks you do- no matter how much you beg the gym teacher to “just have them run around to burn some energy”.

You know Thursdays are the days where Melissa usually has to suffer through recess duty. You usually see her storm her way out of the breakroom and down the hall on those days as you line your little cherubs up for lunch. You glance out the door as you wait for one particular student to get quiet, but you don’t hear the clanking of her boots, and you don’t see her make her way down the hall.

You sigh quietly in relief- you had probably been tying Nazir’s shoes for him when she made her way out. You would be lying to yourself and anybody else if you said that woman didn’t scare the living daylights out of you with her intense glare and the aggressive way she tended to walk.

“Jordan!” One of the girls whines and points in your direction. “She’s waiting on you!”

Almost immediately, the boy hushes himself and stands quietly in line. The kids are quiet as they travel through the halls, knowing talking in the hallway was a quick way to get you to stop in your tracks and wait for them to get quiet again. You run a tight ship- a far tighter one than they had expected when they realized how young you were. You get a few smiles and a few “Enjoy your lunch!” from the kiddos as they pass you to get to their own lunch period.

With a sigh, you turn on your heel and head for the breakroom straight from dropping them off. You usually would wait a good ten minutes into your lunch before heading down to grab your food, but today you were in the clear. Or so you thought.

Your head down, simply just going in to grab your lunch and maybe brew a quick coffee before heading back to your own classroom, you push the staff room door open. And sitting at her table, lazily stabbing at her own salad is the woman you’ve been trying to avoid- Melissa Schemmenti.

“Oh, hey!” Janine grins at you.

“H-hey,” you say quietly, not wanting to intrude on their clique’s lunchtime.

Only then does Melissa glance up, that same stony look behind her eyes. “Where the hell ya been?” she asks with a roll of her eyes. You just barely manage to look at her before reverting your eyes. “Busy fixing your damn makeup?”

“Melissa,” Barb warns in a maternal tone- she kind of sounded like your own mother.

“What?” The redhead turns slightly to look at her friend. “What time do you wake up to look like that anyway?” She looks you up and down from her spot.

“Melissa,” the kindergarten teacher says again.

“What?!” Melissa looks at her again, just slightly incredulously. “It’s a fair question!”

“I think she looks nice,” Jacob stands up for you, both physically and metaphorically.

“I do too,” Janine states. “What do you think, Gregory?”

As the man fumbles for an answer, you just barely remember why you went in there in the first place: to grab your lunch, brew a coffee, and head back to your classroom to hopefully let the caffeine kick in, and- you don’t think you can make your coffee anymore. Not with Melissa’s judgemental glare.

“Listen, there’s no doubt she’s cute or whatever, a Philly ten even.” You blush. “All I’m sayin’ is: we’ve seen enough young teachers come in here all dolled up for the first few weeks of school, and then they leave here with their caked on makeup, dripping down their faces, and looking like a clown,” the redhead grumbles as she puts a forkful in her mouth. “Stop wearing makeup, kid. You’ll never be as hot as me anyway.”

“Melissa!” Barbara admonishes. Only then does the redhead bite her tongue. And even then, only for a few seconds as you grab your salad from the fridge.

In an out of character move, you nearly slam the fridge shut and turn on your heel to head back out. As the door closes, you sigh. You forgot to even get your salad. You had been so wrapped up in what the second grade teacher had to say about you. Ignoring the pang of hunger that had settled into your stomach, you walk back to your classroom with your head held high- you suppose a granola bar from your purse will have to do for today. You rummage around in your bag for a few seconds before you hear a gentle knock on your door.

“Hey,” Janine says quietly, almost unsure of herself. You had never seen her unsure before. Even just passing her in the halls or in the bathroom, she was always upbeat with a smile on her face. “I hope you don’t mind, but I -”

You turn, and the short teacher is holding your salad out. “You forgot this.”

“Thanks,” you give her a sad smile. “I ‘preciate it. You can just set it on the-”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s not the first time someone has said something about my looks as a teacher,” you state as confidently as you can, although your ears are burning with embarrassment. “And I don’t mean to be causing any disturbances to your group. I really just meant to grab my food. You can go back to them, I’ll be fine. I have to reply to a few emails anyway.”

“Barb’s giving her an earful right now,” Janine chuckles awkwardly. “You’re giving me a reason to not be in there right now.”

“She’s-” you gasp softly. “She doesn’t have to do that. I know the two of them are close.”

“We’ve all noticed the way you avoid the breakroom if Melissa is in there. Gregory sees you every morning when you peek in before either coming in or turning away,” Janine tells you. “We’ve been trying to tell her to lighten up, but-”

“Is she always like this to newcomers?” You actually do roll your eyes this time.

The second grade teacher nods as she steps further into the room, offering you your lunch and a fork. “She couldn’t stand me for the first year we worked together, and she liked Jacob even less. She called Gregory by any name but his actual one until the second month in, convinced he was going to leave- of course, he was just hired as a sub at that point, but then we all knew he was going to-”

“Thanks, Janine,” you cut her off gently, taking the tupperware and fork.

“And now she’d fight a parent that says a single thing bad about the three of us.”

“Why was she even there today? I thought she usually has recess duty on Thursdays.”

“That I don’t know,” Janine says honestly. “But I’ve learned not to ask because I either get an earful, or I get the lecture that it’s ‘none ya business’ or ‘who’s askin’ or ‘say one more word, and I’ll get my uncle Tony to-’ and then Barb normally cuts her off with her-”

“You know, you ramble a lot,” you note quietly with a playful smirk on your face.

“Melissa makes sure I know,” the second grade teacher chuckles quietly before glancing at the clock. “I should probably start heading out to make sure the work moms don't get into a fight, but hey... you should come with us to BoneTown tomorrow. Gregory and I are going, and we wouldn’t mind you-” she cuts herself off with the horrified look on your face. “The restaurant!”

Not that you know it, but as you and Janine are quietly talking in your classroom down the hall, Barbara is chewing out Melissa for her behavior.

“She has been nothing but kind to us, and she even lets you be!” Barb scolds her friend. “You have no reason to be acting so harshly towards her- even going as far as commenting on her looks!”

“I told her she was a Philly ten!” the second grade teacher practically growls out.

“And then you told her she wasn’t ever going to be as hot as you!” Barb fires back. “It’s no wonder Y/N has been avoiding you!”

Melissa, entirely ignoring the point of this lecture, makes a confused face. “That’s her name? I thought it was Alana.”

“Melissa,” Barb’s voice gets scarily low. “Everybody here knows her name. Everybody here knows that girl doesn’t even wear makeup! Everybody here knows that she actively avoids you because when she does run into you, all you do is haze her! You tell her she’ll never make it out of here alive, and that her bulletin boards look... I won’t use that word, but I thought you were better than this!”

Only then does the fiery redhead let her tough act go, even just slightly.

“You weren’t even that tough on my girl Janine,” Jacob pipes up with his eyebrows knit in confusion. “And we all know how you felt about her when we first started here.”

“The kid grew on me; what do ya want me to say?” Melissa rolled her eyes.

“All I’m saying is-”

“Melissa, the last three new teachers to start here were Janine, Jacob, and Gregory, and they’re practically our work children at this point,” Barbara steps in before the history teacher can dig himself into a hole.

“I wouldn’t go that far. Sure, I care for youse, but I’ll still only kill for you, Barb.”

“I’m just telling you, give her a chance. She’s a good kid with a good head on her shoulders. She’s polite, she gets the kids to walk down the halls quietly- even the ones you couldn’t get to,” the kindergarten teacher says pointedly.

Melissa sighs. “If I say I’ll try to be nicer, can we finish our lunch in peace?”

“I want you to promise me you’ll actually try though,” Barb requests seriously.

“Okay, okay!” The redhead puts her hands up in surrender. “I’ll talk to the newbie, and I’ll try to be nicer or whatever.”

“That’s all I ask, dear,” Barb lightly taps her friend’s arm and resumes her lunch.

---

You quite literally do everything you can to avoid Melissa for the next week. You let your salads wilt, you make sure you have two coffees ready in the morning so you don’t have to enter the staff room, you redecorate your bulletin board when you know she has recess duty, and you listen for her walking through the halls before you even dare to leave your classroom for the day. You don’t know how you’ve managed it considering your room is only a few doors down from hers.

You won’t admit it, but you had heard Melissa tell Barb as they were leaving for the day that your bulletin board ‘isn’t the worst thing in the world’. Worse yet, you hated that you liked her semi-approval.

It all comes to a head that Friday. As you’re walking in, you trip on the curb and drop both of your coffees, soaking your shirt and the top of your pants. You can’t help but squeal as the hot liquid trickles down your front.

“Happy October to me,” you grumble as you glance down. There’s no saving your shirt. You’ll just have to keep the cardigan you keep on the back of your chair wrapped closely to your body today.

With a huff, you practically storm your way into the staffroom, not even caring that the usual crew is sitting in there getting ready to watch the news. You make a straight away for the coffee maker. Melissa’s eyes widen slightly- she hasn’t seen, or rather heard, you in here since the incident last week. And the last time she saw you in the break room in the morning was... the first week of school.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jacob waves at you as he reaches for the remote to turn on the television.

“Hi,” you grit out, chest still burning from the scalding hot coffee.

Even Jacob recognizes the tension in your voice as you angrily start brewing a cup of coffee.

“Oh, what happened, sweetheart?” Barbara asks as she gently wraps her fingers around Jacob’s wrist, effectively making him pause before turning on the television.

“I dropped my coffee,” you grumble as you pour the coffee grinds into the filter. “But I’m fine.”

Melissa bites her lip, glancing down at the coffee she had just brewed for herself. She hasn’t taken a sip from it yet.

“Here kid,” she offers you the cup. Only then does she get a look at you, dark brown coffee stained on your white shirt.

“No thanks,” you bite out.

“Hey,” the redhead says, and she says it softly. “C’mon. Take it. I’ll make myself another, and you seem like you need it way more than I do right now.”

“I said I don’t want it,” you state again, scarily calm as you try to pull your shirt away from your chest. At this rate, your skin will be blistering by lunch.

“I have an extra shirt in my closet,” Melissa tells you quietly. “C’mon. Take the coffee and drink it while I grab you my extra shirt.”

“Just turn on your news and hate me like always,” you practically spit.

You storm out of the room before she can say another word to you. You don’t want the redhead’s pity, and you certainly don't want to get in the way of her news. Coffee be damned, you need to get out of that room. You run down to your classroom as you hold your shirt away from your chest and stomach. The cool air seems to be soothing your burns a bit, and you can’t quite help the way tears spring to your eyes.

Only about a minute passes before you hear a gentle knock on your doorframe. You turn, expecting to see Janine, or maybe even Barbara. But it’s Melissa with an Eagles sweatshirt in one hand and a coffee in the other. She tosses it at you, only for it to fall on the floor. You don’t want to let the soaking wet shirt touch you again just yet.

“Y/N,” Melissa says your name for the first time. “Just take it. C’mon. I can practically see your skin sizzling from here.”

“I don’t need your help,” you hiss out as you slowly let go of your shirt.

“I don’t hate you, you know,” the second grade teacher sighs as she steps towards you to pick up the pullover.

“You do, and I don’t care,” you bite out as a tear escapes your right eye.

“Ow!” you finally yell, pulling away your shirt again. You wipe the tear away before laughing bitterly. “Only a few more seconds before I run out of here, makeup dripping down my face, right?”

“Hey,” she says. There it is again. That soft tone. She bites her lip and contemplates saying something nice before trying to joke instead. “Barb told me you don’t even wear makeup, so there’s no chance of that happening, I guess.”

“Yeah,” you huff. “Unfortunately for you.”

“I really don’t hate you,” Melissa says again. She almost sounds genuine.

“You already said that, and I already told you: I don't believe you.” You turn away as a few more tears fall.

“I tried,” she sighs, and you hear her footsteps stop a few seconds later. You don’t even bother turning around. Unbeknownst to you, she had snagged your lunch from your bag to put in the refrigerator for you.

When you hear your door close softly, you finally turn back around. She’s gone, but the coffee and the Eagles sweatshirt are sitting on your desk.

With a huff and a silent curse, you peel off your shirt and change into the sweatshirt. Finally, you let a quiet curse slip. “Damn you, Melissa Schemmenti.”

Despite your sour mood, as the kiddos start to trickle in, you stand at the door with a plastered smile on your face and the coffee cup in hand. You don’t know it, but Melissa is smiling to herself- she’s glad you changed into her shirt and took the coffee. She wasn’t lying when she said she could practically hear your skin burning from where she stood.

Come lunchtime, you walk your kids to the cafeteria before sighing as you enter your classroom again. You grab your bag, ready to at least attempt to stomach some food, when you realize it isn’t there. You could’ve sworn you brought your lunch today.

“When it rains it pours,” you grumble to yourself as you grab a few dollars from your wallet. A bag of chips from the vending machine would have to hold you over until you could go home and wallow in your self-pity with a glass of wine in hand.

You don’t even look at the group as you walk in. You make a beeline straight for the vending machine.

“Y/N,” Barb says before you can feed your first dollar into the machine. “Your lunch is over here.”

You whip around at that. “How the hell did it get in here? I didn’t-”

“I did,” Melissa fights the urge to roll her eyes as she eats her pasta. “You’re welcome by the way.”

“Th-thanks,” you sigh as you walk over to the table to take it. You start to make your way back out when you hear that low voice again. “Just eat it here, kid. C’mon. It’s fine- you’re already wearing my shirt and had my coffee.”

You blush violently, but Janine scoffs. “You let her wear your precious Eagles sweatshirt?! You wouldn’t even let me wear it when Jamal got to second base with me with paint last year!”

“Your skin wasn’t blistering,” the second grade teacher snorts out. She turns back to you before kicking out the seat next to her. “Sit.”

Silently, you obey. You eat quietly, taking in all of the conversation around you. Lunchtime is over all too soon, and today you have recess duty. With a sigh, you stand and push in your chair.

“Thanks,” you say quietly before you exit.

At the end of the day you change back into your coffee stained shirt and head down to Melissa’s room to return it to her.

She’s standing outside of her classroom, hands on her hips as she stares at her own bulletin board in frustration.

“Hey,” you say quietly, trying not to sneak up on her.

“Hey hon,” she sighs.

“Thanks for letting me borrow your shirt,” you say shyly as you offer it to her.

“Don’t mention it,” she says offhandedly. She then glances over at you. “Seriously: don’t mention it. If my uncle finds out I let someone else wear it, he’ll have my-”

“I won’t,” you laugh nervously. You weren’t sure if she was kidding or not. Then you look at what she was just looking at.

“It looks nice,” you compliment quietly.

“Not as nice as yours,” she huffs. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what? The bulletin board? I can help you with-”

“No. I don’t know how you come in here everyday looking so damn nice, and without makeup. I don’t know how you get those little gremlins to stand quietly in line and walk through the halls without a sound- Barb couldn’t do it, hell I couldn’t do it! I don’t know how you make it look so effortless to work at this shitshow. I really don’t know how you handled today the way you did- I saw you standing outside your room ten minutes after that hot coffee was all down your front with a smile on your face for the kiddos- my kids would’ve known I had a shit morning. And I ‘specially don’t know how you can stand to eat that boring, bland ass salad you do everyday. Seriously: has no one taught you what a good meal is?” She huffs again at the end of her rant, looking at you curiously.

“I-” you really don’t know what to say.

“Y’know what?” she sighs as she sets her stapler down on the vent. She mumbles to herself for a second before, “Come over tonight, and I’ll teach you what a good meal is. And in return, you can teach me how to do this fuckin’ bulletin board.”

“Oh, I uh-” You were kind of looking forward to sitting at home with a bag of chips and a glass of wine in your sweatpants.

Melissa looks away. “Nevermind. Forget I asked.”

“N-no,” You say, maybe too quickly. “I’ll be there. Give me your address, and I’ll- I just have to go home and change.”

“Alright, kid,” the redhead rolls her eyes. She rattles off her address, and you commit it to memory. You actually know around her area of town- one of your best friends grew up on that street. “‘N bring a bottle of wine.”

You nod, a blush on your face.

“And don’t tell Janine or Jacob. It’s too early in the year for them to be over at my place.”

You laugh. “I won’t. I promise. I’ll be over by six, if that’s okay?”

“Sounds great, hon.”

With a smile and a nod, you make your way out of the building. You quickly run home and change into a nicer top- not one covered in coffee- before heading down to the liquor store.

A bottle in hand, you stand at her door nervously. What if you picked up the wrong bottle? Would this be the end of somehow getting onto the veteran teacher’s good side?

Before you can contemplate your choice any longer, the door whips open. She’s in a green tank top and a denim overshirt, and you can’t help but laugh. You’re pretty much wearing the same thing, except for your top is black.

“C’mon. Otherwise my sauce is going to simmer for too long, and the last time someone simmered the sauce for too long... Well, Kristin Marie still hasn’t heard the end of it.” She saunters into her kitchen, and it smells great. She tends to the pasta sauce- clearly homemade, before reaching up for a couple wine glasses.

“I hope you brought somethin’ good,” she says jokingly. You hold up the bottle to show her. “Well shit, kid. That’s my favorite. How’d you know?”

You may have panic texted Barbara to ask what kind of wine to bring, but she didn’t have to know that. Instead, you just give a bashful shrug.

“I think we’re going to get along just fine,” she smiles, her first real smile at you since you started at Abbott.

And the rest is history. She doesn’t hold you at arm’s length anymore.

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