New book published: Billy the Earthworm Finds His Courage

Posted on July 21, 2026 by Val
Screenshot of "Billy the Earthworm finds his Courage," available on Amazon.com.

I’m so excited to announce a new publication and a new genre for me: illustrated works!

All three of my kids have had a block of time spanning several years during which they constantly asked for stories (I am in the middle of it with the two year old). I remembered and then wrote down the best of these stories, and I promised I would create them one day.

With my kids young enough to still appreciate them, I figured it was time. “One day” was now.

Life with a 2, 7, and 10 year old is busy, to say the least. Throw my full-time teaching job on top of that, and time becomes a precious commodity.

There is a lot of running around, taking kids to Taekwondo, swim, soccer, wrestling. My challenge as a creative person had been how to use some of that time productively.

I do what I can: jogging during half of morning swim, bringing a laptop to edit or write afterwards. But even with my first child, it was clear that mental silence during waking hours was to be a thing of the past. Almost right away with my oldest, I turned to drawing as a creative outlet that allowed me to work even while a very loquacious child was practicing her craft.

It started with bringing a sketchbook everywhere and trying to fill it with everything from pencil sketches to acrylic paints to alcohol markers.

“Wendy,” an acrylic painting I entered in a local art contest (third place) a few years ago.

But life on the go necessitated that I create art the same way I create writing: in sometimes short, stolen moments between (or during) appointments and lessons.

After a year or so of physical drawing, I turned to digital pen and a tablet (Android FTW!), since digital paint never dries. I even splurged on a drawing screen that hooks up to my computer.

My sweet set-up/happy place

The first of my illustrated kids books is Billy the Earthworm Finds His Courage. It started on a grumpy, rainy day when my son needed something to do in the car. I told him to imagine ways an Earthworm might try to cross a driveway that was being guarded by birds. My oldest chimed in right away, helping my son to brainstorm ideas. Many of those ideas made it onto the pages of the book.

dedication page from my latest book

What I like most about this story is that Billy is so content in his life, and when he hears the call for something better, he hesitates. I think we all at some point have felt that safety is more appealing than risk, and we forego the chance to improve our situation because we are afraid of the unknowns of change.

This book was several years in the making if you take into account the learning curve for digital drawing (after honing regular drawing/painting skills, filling several sketchbooks, and trying to work in fragmented chunks between kid activities and distractions). With the learning curve conquered, books will hopefully emerge much more quickly now.

My current work in progress is about a girl and her friend/toy dinosaur who decide to melt fruit snacks in a hot car and the ensuing mess. You would never guess which of my kids (ahem, toddler!) is the inspiration for that one.

But I am also working on illustrating my Corgi Capers series. I’ll be illustrating the first three (re-releasing them), and I have two more books in the series written and ready for illustration.

I am proud to have taken the time to produce human-created artwork that is imperfect yet has a soul. I am against generative AI for writing and artwork, as I believe the expression of art and the work that goes into creating it is part of what defines art and makes us human. The magic of written and visual art is finding something that resonates with you and realizing that you and the author/artist share a thought, idea, or feeling – whether you are living down the street, in a different time zone, or decades and decades apart. I hope a piece of my new work resonates with you.

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Book Review: Blackout by Clayton/Jackson/Stone/Thomas/Woodfolk/Yoon

Posted on July 20, 2026 by Val

The book Blackout contains interconnected stories by authors Dhonielle Clayton, Tiffany D. Jackson, Nic Stone, Angie Thomas, Ashley Woodfolk, and Nicola Yoon. It’s about a series of Black young adults who find themselves in various parts of New York City during a blackout, and its theme is love and finding/being true to oneself.

The stories are all young adult centered, so it’s a good read for high school. In fact, I was supposed to read this book back in January, but things got away from me. I was given this book with a bookshelf that someone was giving away. When I heard the high school I work at was reading the book as part of a book club, I wanted to read it, but–yearbook deadlines and other things got in the way. With more time in the summer, I was able to devour this fast read.

I would rate the stories as PG-13. They are all centered on love (of all types and genders, with nothing explicit in any of them), and they are all sweet and end happily. The young people in the stories often notice or comment on the grandparents’ generation and how the stories of how grandparents met are told time and again, inspiring the current generation. What I enjoyed more than the love stories was the message that people should be true to who they are, and that’s when true love happens–when we stop pretending to be who we are not.

I don’t want to give away spoilers, but some examples of plot in the book – there are two characters competing for the same internship, there is a big party in Brooklyn that many characters are attempting to reach despite the widespread blackout, there is concern for the elderly in their group home during the blackout, there are concerns about how we change when we either go or don’t go to college. I enjoyed how the stories were interwoven so that it felt like they were all happening in the same time and place, but at the same time each one had its own voice and personality. I don’t have a favorite necessarily–they were all slices of life and highlighted the importance of individual stories, and they are geared toward the turbulent years of young adulthood, especially as high school is ending.

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Book review: Airfield by Jeanette Ingold

Posted on July 13, 2026 by Val

Following the life of newly-fifteen-year-old Beatty, a girl growing up near an airfield during the dustbowl era, Airfield is a good read for anyone interested in a coming of age tale, a tale about discovering one’s parent, and a historical look at the 1930s American small-scale airline industry.

Beatty lives with various family members, never staying too long in one place, while her father takes on inconsistent work for the airline. He never seems to want to talk about Beatty’s mother, even though Beatty hears rumors that she was a pilot. Worse, he does not want her up in the air.

Beatty and her family work hard, help who they can, and do what is needed. Beatty works for free, collecting only tips, as a way of proving herself useful to the airfield that is barely making ends meet. As a backdrop to this story, we see how passengers flew and were treated in the 1930s.

My favorite part about reading stories of the past is when I am drawn in to the small details of life so that I feel like I am there. Even small things, like watching characters struggle to find housing or food, makes me realize what an abundant time we live in, and it gives me a healthy dose of respect for the past.

This is a must read for young women, but anyone interested in pilots or airplanes would find it a quick read as well.

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Flash fiction: Caught in the Act by Cathy MacKenzie

Posted on July 9, 2026 by Val

Welcome to The Spot Writers. The prompt for this month is to write a story in which someone pugnacious plays a major role. This time, it’s Cathy MacKenzie’s turn.
Cathy’s writings have been published in over four hundred print and online publications.

Check out her website (www.writingwicket.wordpress.com) for more information.

***

Caught in the Act
Cathy MacKenzie

I was caught unawares when Fred suddenly appeared at the desk and shrieked, “What are you doing?”

I felt my face go hot. My arms fell to my sides like limp noodles—though I was unaware they’d fallen until I snapped them up into a defensive cross to protect my face.
Fred slammed one hand on the desk, leaning over me like a boxer waiting for the bell. No, he was my husband; he wouldn’t actually strike me. But he sure looked like he wanted to.

Still, I’d been caught in the act. And by my husband, the one person I always wanted to impress.

“What are you doing?” he barked again, towering over me.

“Nothing,” I mumbled, surprised I could even speak through the thick dough in my throat.

He glared at me, his jaw working as he scanned the desk, his eyes locking onto the evidence. “Nothing? You call tearing through a dozen donuts like a starved dog ‘nothing’?” He pointed at the open box.
Funny, though. Hearing his booming, combative voice echo through the room, my guilt suddenly vanished. I had been on a diet for three weeks. I hadn’t eaten dinner the previous evening, nor had I eaten breakfast that morning. I was starving; I had to eat, and there was nothing else but those donuts. I couldn’t leave the office, not when I was manning the premises. And the boss’s wife couldn’t starve, could she?

He didn’t wait for an answer. He threw up his hands in disgust and marched down the hall to his office.

I slumped into the chair, swallowed the mush in my mouth, and licked my fingers, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I was filling in at Fred’s company while the receptionist was ill, something I did on occasion. I didn’t do much besides answer the phone and offer greetings when someone entered the building. Quite boring, actually. I’d much sooner be home doing my own thing, but I felt it was my wifely duty to help in his time of need.

And this was how he thanked me?

I was devastated he’d caught me in the act. I almost cried but then reconsidered. What good would tears accomplish except to run my mascara and ruin my foundation? And what had I done, really? I hadn’t stolen company funds, nor had I snooped into financials. No, I had simply been caught—literally—with my hands in the cookie jar, to use a cliché.

But it was Fred’s fault! He had practically dared me by leaving the box of confectionary goodness with me at the front desk earlier that morning. “Help yourself,” he had said, dropping the box on the desk. He snickered, leaning in close. “Smell good, don’t they?” he’d taunted before disappearing, quite aware I possessed no willpower.

We’d been married for almost forty years. Shouldn’t he have clued in to my faults by now? Or was he just looking for an excuse to pick a fight?

Yep, you guessed it. I didn’t take those luscious, mouth-watering globs of goodness out back to the guys in the warehouse as I’d been instructed. Fred wasn’t supposed to have returned until early afternoon when he was going to take me to lunch. He’d never have known had he stuck to his schedule. While pigging out, I’d rationalized I’d order a diet soda and salad.

Minutes later, he returned. “I can’t believe it,” he hissed. “You ate ten of them? Those were for the warehouse crew! Do you have any idea how hard those guys work?”
I looked inside the box, truly stunned to see two lonely donuts. Had I eaten ten? How many calories had I consumed?

I knew I was wrong, but his bullying crossed the line. If he wanted to treat me like an adversary, I might as well act like one.

While he watched, I reached into the box, grabbed the jelly-filled one instead of the old-fashioned plain, looked him dead in the eyes, and took a massive, defiant bite.

“Too late for the box to go to the warehouse now,” I said through a mouthful of filling. “Ten hulking guys couldn’t share two anyway. And now there’s only one.”

His face turned a deep crimson, but the sweet mixture instantly soothed any feelings of inadequacy. Gah, they were so good! Lunch was damned; I’d take donuts over a salad any day.

Fred would eventually calm down. He always did.

***

The Spot Writers:

Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com

Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com

Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.ca/

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Book Review: Long Live the Pumpkin Queen by Shea Ernshaw

Posted on July 6, 2026 by Val

As a fan of The Nightmare Before Christmas, I was drawn to this book, which follows what happens to Sally after the end of the film, when she and Jack finally get together.

I wasn’t sure what to expect, since the film appeals to children and adults alike. My daughter actually wanted to read the book, so I read it first to see if it was okay for kids. It is. There is a little bit of Jack and Sally kissing, but mostly it’s a coming of age of sorts for Sally.

She and Jack are married, and it’s almost Halloween. They go on a very brief honeymoon and then all goes wrong. In short, a door is opened to a different world, and all the beings in all the worlds seem to be fallen into a permanent sleep. Sally is the only one who can save them.

It was a good plot-based read with some development of Sally’s character. She begins feeling like she doesn’t fit in as the queen of Halloween. This could serve as a metaphor for one growing into a role, or taking on a new role and needing to make it your own.

What disappointed me a little is, I never felt like I was actually in a world. If I hadn’t seen the film a million times, I would not have had much to imagine. That said, there were repetitive parts, like Sally constantly feeling the leaves stuffed inside her rustling, etc., instead of her heart fluttering. From what I know of those who write a book that takes place in a world someone else owns (ahem Disney), I am assuming the author’s hands were tied in some ways. Ernshaw is a NYT bestselling author, but I just felt a certain something was missing from the tale. There were also some plot weirdnesses. For example, the film ends at Christmas time. This is when Sally and Jack presumably start dating. So, did they date from December through October and then decide they just had to get married 2 weeks before Halloween? It caused a rushed honeymoon, but if these creatures live either forever or for a very long time (a character during the tale is sentenced to 100 years of service), why the rush to marry at such an inconvenient time?

That said, I felt drawn to finish the story, as I really wanted to know what happened. I won’t go into details of her backstory, but they played a role.

I will definitely let my daughter read the book, and I think the plot elements will hold her interest.

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Flash fiction: Pugnacious by Val Muller

Posted on July 2, 2026 by Val

Welcome to the Spot Writers. This month’s prompt is to write a story using the word/concept “pugnacious.” This week’s tale comes to us from Val Muller, author of the kidlit Corgi Capers series, and it’s three days late due to a combination of Val’s wedding anniversary, the Fourth of July, and a real-life toddler, a 24/7 inspiration for this tale.

 

Pugnacious
 

By Val Muller
 

The car idled in the garage while Geoff ran in for the juice.

“Blue cup,” the terror chanted from the back seat. “Blue cup.”

“Yes,” Mel said. “Daddy’s getting the blue cup.”

“Apple juicy, apple juicy, in a blue cuppy, in a blue cuppy,” the toddler sang.

Mel went through the list – they had the bag of magnatiles, the bunny—the gray one with the blue socks, not the white one, not like last time—they had the sneakers packed away for whenever the dinosaur slippers proved to be a bad choice of footwear, they had diapers, they had pull-ups, they had underwear. They had forgotten juice, but Geoff was remedying that right now.

What worried her, though, was that the morning had been peaceful. Much too peaceful. Potty training that day with a 100% success rate. No accidents, no demands for pullups instead of underwear. The only issue had been the wearing of the dinosaur slippers instead of sneakers, and that was a battle Geoff and Mel quickly conceded, one not worth fighting. Other than that—peace. Usually there would be three meltdowns by now.

The pugnacious one was saving her meltdown for later – possibly during Billy’s concert.

The K-2 showcase would last maybe 25 minutes, tops. But Mel had a bad feeling the toddler was waiting for those exact 25 minutes to be her worst. And of course, Mel’s sister would wonder why Mel’s kid could not behave for a mere 25 minutes to see her cousin sing in the end-of-the-year chorus concert. Mel’s parents would think the toddler was a terror for ruining her cousin’s concert. It would end, like it always did, with Mel or Geoff outside at the playground, entertaining the toddler while the rest of the humans stayed inside and did civilized human things.

Mel sighed just as Geoff came back with the cup.

“That’s the teal cup,” Mel said in a whisper. “She said blue.”

Geoff said, “It’s blue.”

Darn men’s inability to distinguish the color palette, Mel thought. In the rear-view mirror, Mel caught the toddler’s eye reflecting in her baby mirror, looking through the rear-view mirror at the cup in question. Hers was like the great seeing eye of Mordor. It saw all, and it judged—oh, did it judge.

“That’s teal, dad,” the toddler said matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” Geoff said. “I guess daddy still doesn’t know his colors.” He paused. This could go south quickly.

The toddler shrugged. “You’ll be a big kid one day, daddy,” she said, then reached out for the cup. “Teal’s fine.”

Mel and Geoff exchanged looks of worry, then surprise, as the toddler took the cup and drank from it without so much as a glance at its color.

“Maybe she’s outgrowing the terrible twos,” Geoff said.

Mel doubted it. The terrible twos were a misnomer. They started before two, that was for sure, and they often went up to three, sometimes four years old. She had researched it. Something about brain development and small problems having the same impact as big ones. Something about asking for a hot dog, then crying because you are brought…a hot dog. Something about melting down if your dad brings you a teal cup instead of a blue one.

Only this time it didn’t matter.

Geoff backed the car out of the drive, and Mel turned on the radio. She immediately braced herself for an onslaught of toddler pouting. Usually, Mel couldn’t get the proper songs loaded in time to avert a barrage of squeals and demands.

Sting was playing on the radio.

The car was silent. There were no protests. Mel enjoyed the refrains of a grown-up song for once. She and Geoff exchanged glances. “Maybe she’s outgrowing—”

“Shhh,” Mel insisted. “Don’t jinx it!”

The drive to the elementary school was uneventful, all 45 minutes of it. Normally, there were numerous complaints, from screaming at Geoff to drive while stopped at a red light to demands to stop and watch birds.

But today—not a peep. She remained engaged with her teal-colored apple juice cup and her baby mirror.

By the time they pulled into the school, Mel let her guard down. “Maybe she is outgrowing the terrible twos,” she whispered. “Now let’s go watch Billy.”

*
An hour later, Mel, frazzled, pressed the toddler’s rigid body enough to bend it into the car seat. “No, momeeeeeeeeeeey!” the pugnacious one screamed. “Ball! Ball!” A dinosaur slipper hit Mel in the shoulder as the buckle snapped into place.

As predicted, she had melted down just as the elementary school chorus teacher was introducing the show. Geoff tried to grab her and rock her, but it was too late. She had been napless, teal-cupped, and quiet for too long. She was bottled-up seltzer water, and she was heavily shaken.

Outside at the playground, a group of middle school boys had been playing basketball. They had never seen an angry toddler before, but her demands were no match for their preteen angst, and they did not give her the ball as requested.

The toddler went nuclear.

Her explosion sent her to the small kid playground, terrorizing the small children there. It took everything Mel had to keep her away from other humans and keep her away from self destruction.

The buckles snapped, Mel worked to put the dinosaur slipper back on the restrained toddler.

“You sure you don’t want to come for ice cream?” Mel’s sister asked from the parking lot, patting Billy on the head. “We told Billy we’d take him out for doing such a good job. He’s so well behaved,” she added.

“No, I don’t think she could handle ice cream just now—” The words had barely escaped Mel’s lips when the toddler went quiet.

She turned to Mel with a pugnacious look, all rage stifled for the moment. “I do want ice cream, and if I don’t have some, I will scream.” As if to punctuate her intent, she pushed her foot all the way into the dinosaur slipper and smiled like the epitome of innocence.

Mel looked at Geoff, and Geoff looked at Mel.

“Terrible twos,” they sighed and got into the car, hoping for a peaceful round of ice cream.

The Spot Writers—Our Members:

Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/
Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/
Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com
Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.ca/

 

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Book review: Mixed-up by Kami Garcia, Brittney Williams, and Tyler Smith

Posted on June 29, 2026 by Val

Another middle-grade graphic novel I read to be able to discuss with my daughter. This is a simple but focused story about a fifth grader who drifts away from her friends because of her dyslexia. She has made it this far without having much trouble with school, but the extra reading that comes with fifth grade has made it difficult for her to keep up in any of her subjects. She is embarrassed when she cannot read the guidebook to the newest video game that everyone wants to play. Instead of confronting her problem and telling her friends what’s wrong, she drifts away from them.

The author emphasizes that this is just one person’s experience with dyslexia and is not meant to represent everyone who experiences it. That said, I liked that reading it gave me a window into what someone might be feeling who struggles with reading comprehension. I liked the message throughout the book that it has nothing to do with intelligence, it’s just the way the brain processes things differently.

I also liked that the book could be read as more about the way we interact with our friends. Stella was afraid to tell her friends what was wrong and instead got very defensive and shut herself away from them. No matter what issue people are having, they could learn from this interaction.

I really enjoyed the artwork as well. It was simple yet captured the emotions effectively – the art did not distract from the story but you could definitely read the characters’ emotions.

Even though this is meant for younger readers, it’s actually a good book for anyone involved with children to read. I still remember one time in high school being told I wasn’t trying hard enough because I could not understand a concept. It was frustrating to try to tell the teacher that I really just didn’t understand it no matter how hard I tried. Reading works like this helps remind us that things that are sometimes confused with bad behavior or actually underlying issues like dyslexia. I still remember one time in high school being told I wasn’t trying hard enough because I could not understand a concept. It was frustrating to try to tell the teacher that I really just didn’t understand it no matter how hard I tried

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Book Review: Winging It: A Graphic Novel (written by Megan Wagner Lloyd; illustrated by Michelle Mee Nutter)

Posted on June 22, 2026 by Val

My daughter loves graphic novels, and I love that they are a quick way to enjoy a story while also absorbing the visual medium used to help convey characters and plot. Winging It follows the ordeals of a girl named Luna, who moves from the comfort of her life in California to Virginia, away from friends and the familiar, and into the house of her grandmother, the mother of Luna’s deceased mom.

It takes Luna a while to warm up to her grandmother, who is mostly set in her ways and demands a neat and organized home. Luna’s father is always busy with work, and Luna’s friends from California seem to be moving on without her. As she adjusts to the new climate and school and befriends some neighbors, she also looks through her mother’s nature journals and learns more about the Luna Moth, after which she was named.

The artwork in this novel is easy to digest, with a scrapbook quality to it, especially with the dividers (which goes along with the nature journal Luna and her mother keep). The story is a typical coming-of-age tale, with Luna’s mother absent (through death) and her father absent (through a busy work schedule). The themes of nature (Luna’s mother as an artist and Luna as a photographer) overlap with the interests of Luna’s grandmother and go well with the difference in climate between California and the Washington, DC area.

The novel is appropriate for many ages, with no noticeable graphic content. My elementary-aged daughter has read this multiple times. I like reading books that my children read to keep up with what is popular and also be able to discuss with my children. As an adult reading young adult literature, it’s always good to be reminded of the types of things that kids are attuned to (needing to find friends) versus what grownups focus on (work, needing a clean house), and it’s always good to keep my eyes open to the different and sometimes conflicting priorities. Even as just a stand-alone story, I found it an enjoyable read and will seek additional work from this author-illustrator duo.

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Book review: The Ghost Prison by Joseph Delaney

Posted on June 15, 2026 by Val

I picked this book up at a start-of-summer book giveaway at my school, and I chose it because its creepy illustrations and thin spine width seemed appropriate for my kids (elementary age). My kids sometimes like creepy stories, and this one follows a fifteen year old named Billy who is an apprentice at a prison.

I knew nothing else about these stories or the world the author created when I sat down to read what I estimate to be a 10,000-20,000 word novella. It reads much like a ghost story, with facts of the story being told outright (with some spooky twists, of course), rather than dwelling on details or indirectly characterizing the story or characters.

I can’t say much else about the plot without giving it away, except to say I wish it had been longer. The illustrations were great, adding to the mood of the piece, and they helped emphasize some of the details that were left out of the text. But I would have liked a little more development, a little more settling into the character before dropping the reveal. With its short length, every important detail stood out.

That said, it reminded me a little of the classic Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, with this tale being just a bit more beefed up.

There is a little bit of bloody, scary imagery, so I will warn my kids about it before I offer them the chance to read it. It is a ghost story fantasy, so there is also mention of witches and the devil, so parents should use discretion when giving the book to kids.

Overall, it’s a fun, easy, creepy read for readers of dark tales.

 

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Back by Val Muller

Posted on May 9, 2026 by Val

Welcome to the Spot Writers. This month’s prompt is to write about an unexpected visitor. Today’s tale comes from Val Muller, who in her day job is a high school teacher in America. This fictionalized account is based on at least two real incidents that reminded her that soke students are challenging in the moment but ultimately make the job a rewarding one. It is an appropriate way to end teacher appreciation week.

Back
By Val Muller

Just 26 hours from now, they would all be on holiday break. It was the typical student apathy and excitement, as before any break–the same behaviors that made her question teaching. If she could just make it through the rest of the day without incident, she could coast into the last day before break.

The intercom beeped, and she flinched. All day, students had been dismissed by parents pulling them early.

“Ms. Smithson?” the office called.

“Yes?” She looked around the room, wondering which of the few remaining students was being called.

“Are you busy? You have a visitor.” A few moments later, a building substitute was there to watch the class. Ms. Smithson cringed. They never sent someone to cover a class.

Unless you were in trouble.

Which, maybe she was.

Did the district do things like that? Did they fire teachers two days before Christmas? She took the fastest route to the office, but she walked slowly. These could be her last few moments of normalcy.

When she entered the main office, she looked around. She had expected to see an administrator standing there with a scowl and crossed arms. But instead, it was just the two ladies from the front desk smiling each other and laughing as they watched her face. And they pointed in the direction of the seats next to the front door. There, a young man was seated. Ms. Smithson did not recognize him at first. He seemed like he might be a student waiting to see the principal, or maybe an older brother waiting to pick up a sibling for an early dismissal. No one on her current roster, anyway.

Then her heart skipped a beat. It was Jason, the Jason she spoke or thought about daily for four years, the Jason so notorious that even her husband still remembered hearing about the boy’s antics and attitude. The number of times he’d gone to the main office, the number of times he’d mouthed off, rebelled,  not listened. The time he sent that email.

“Oh,” she managed.

Jason stood, smiling, handing her a gift bag. “It’s chocolate cookies,” he said. “My parents insisted.”

“Thank you. It’s good to see you.” Okay, so chocolate cookies. But why? Did Jason really just come back randomly with cookies for his former teachers?

He seemed to read the question in her eyes. “There were only two people I came to see. You’re one of them.”

He held up an ID tag. “See what I do now?” It was an employee ID tag for the local, national basketball team. “I’m on the press team. I’m not in charge or anything, but this is how everyone starts. For now I just help with scheduling and set up and basically just doing whatever I’m told, but I can work my way up. They said probably when I graduate next year they’ll have something for me.”

Had it really been three years? He was about to graduate college. In the back of her mind, she had given him a fifty-fifty chance of that. It’s not that she didn’t believe in him, but as with so many students, it was just there was so much evidence pushing her to fear the worst.

“Graduating, huh?”

He nodded. Then he pointed to the gift bag. “You think that’s your Christmas gift, but it’s not. That’s just what my family gave you. Are you ready for your gift?”

Ms. Smithson tensed. What could he mean? But already she was nodding.

Jason paused for dramatic effect, then stood up straight, looking her right in the eye. “You were right,” he said. “I mean every damn time, you were right. Use good grammar. Proofread my work myself. Take pride in my work. Be polite. Walk away when my anger is going to make decisions for me. Respect those above me. All thise things I gave you a hard time about, all those things I said I would refuse to do, all that headache I probably put you through, in college I learned that you were right real quick.”

Ms. Smithson paused, taking it all in. Everyone always said teachers really appreciated things like handwritten notes as opposed to anything else. She never understood that, students thanking teachers for merely doing their jobs. But now, she soared in the clouds. All those years of wondering if maybe just for one day he could be absent, wondering if maybe just for today he would cooperate, all those years of not giving up, of fighting the good fight with that small flame of hope that might kindle into something.

She looked up to see the fire in his eyes.

“Thank you.”

The Spot Writers—Our Members:
Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/
Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/
Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com
Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.ca/

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