Jazz music blasted from the radio, beating a steady rhythm through the car. Sandra tapped her fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music as she drove back home. The upbeat tune worked magic in relieving her stress and exhaustion.

Reliving the memories of the day, Sandra sighed when she thought about her class. She had been a ball of anxiety walking into the classroom, wondering whether the kids would be difficult to handle. It turned out better than expected, thank goodness.

Though they were teens and supposed to be in their rebellious phase, she had been pleasantly surprised to see some of them were eager to learn. Of course, there were the more trying ones - rowdy jokers, distracted chatter-boxers. And then there was this girl, Valerie.

Sandra’s lips drew into a thin line as she recalled the young teen whose natural expression resembled a brooding and nasty… bitch, for the lack of a better word. From the start of the class, Valerie had been hostile towards her. Several times within the course of her teaching, the young girl had snickered or thrown odd questions her way.

If not for her self-restraint, Sandra would have snapped at the girl. But it wasn’t just Valerie’s lack of respect for authority that rubbed her the wrong way. Sandra shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she bit her lips.

Looking at Valerie was like looking at a younger version of herself. The way Valerie expressed her emotions was different but it took a rebellious spirit to recognize one. Valerie had the same afflictions - a craving for attention, a strong self-preservation instinct, and a lack of trust.

The uncanny resemblance made her chest seize up and Sandra had to remind herself to breathe. Better not to dwell on that girl.

She shook her head and refocused her mind. Another name drifted into her consciousness.

Ray.

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. Seeing his surname on the roster had sent her heart plummeting to the floor. Filled with a mixture of dread and anticipation, she had looked up from the attendance sheet to see a lanky boy timidly raising his hand. He looked like a miniature version of his father, except for the forlorn look in his eyes and the soft, round features of his face.

Old, buried feelings had bubbled up in her and she had to stop herself from calling out to him. During class, she had tried not to stare at the boy but her gaze had inadvertently traveled to where he sat. Through sheer will, she had managed to keep herself together and not dwell on the past.

Now, outside the confines of school, Sandra allowed herself to be pulled back into her memories. As she meandered down the empty road, the dull countryside scenery melted into images of her teenage years. Images of a young Sandra laughing along with her best friend, Lynn, and a rugged, bad-boy version of Ray.

A wistful smile spread across her face. Those were blissful and carefree times - without the burden of adulthood, its responsibilities, and crimes. After she had left for a better future, she had not contacted Lynn and Mark, and those joyful days had melted into nothing but a memory.

Seeing their child in her class brought forth a longing that she never realized existed in her. A longing to reconnect with her once good friends. Maybe it was time to give them a call, now that she was back in town.

Sandra reached for her phone, her eyes flitting away from the windscreen. A sharp honk blared. Her head snapped up in time to see her car drifting away from the lane and into the path of an incoming police car-