Strange Magic

"I'm done with fruit punch."  Alberto informed me, solemnly. 
"It's over between you two?"  I responded.
"Yes." he answered firmly and continued working.

"If the seizure lasts more than five minutes, you will have to administer Diastat.  Roll the child on their side, grab the lubricant...."
Lubricant?  I inadvertently sat up straighter.  I didn't like where this was headed.
"After the K-Y, plunge the medication in the rectum."
She spoke with such authority.

"We have to do a cross-curricular task even though it's our Reading time," I informed my fourth grade group.  They weren't pleased.  It meant that we would remain in their classroom with the rest of the students, instead of going to the trailer. 
"Have you heard of the Boston Massacre?"  I continued, whispering, trying to give them a little pre-knowledge while the general education teacher warmed up her spiel.
"Is it like a purge?"  my new student, Prem, asked.
"How do you define purge?"
"When men rush in and kill everyone."
"Yeah, that's pretty much it...." I answered, looking down at his maimed limb that I have never had the heart to ask about.  It's probably a birth defect, I repeated over and over in my mind. 
"Stand in a circle and and grab your neighbor's hand!"  the general ed teacher commanded.  I jumped up and made sure I was on the side of Prem's gnarled limb, and grabbed it and held it. 

"Habiba, why do you only have one buck?"  I asked.  The Housing Authority has started an extrinsic reward system that allows students to receive "bucks" for good behavior. They use them to buy things, stuff we get from Dollar Tree. 
"I spent all my money on ring pops and popcorn." she announced, spinning and smiling.
"Are you satisfied with your decision?" I responded.
"YES I AM." she answered definitively, hijab swinging as she skipped out the door. 

"Do you have a printer in here?"  the elderly woman that works at my school asked me, after pounding on the door of my trailer.
I paused.  I have the one I bought myself, that is hidden under my desk, but I wasn't sure what she was asking about.
"No, I don't know if any of the trailers have printers." I responded. 
"This used to be the Art trailer," she responded.  I already knew that, after I stole half of the stuff both for my students, and, myself. 
"There used to be a Promethian board in here.  One night, people broke in. They took the board, but no one really needs that in their house, so they smashed it on the blacktop.  Smashed all her pencil sharpeners, too."
She had a strange smile on her face.
"I hope that doesn't happen to me."  I responded. 

"What happened to your face?"  Prem asked me, his eyebrows knitting together in the middle.
"Oh, I got burned and now it is totally peeling off.  It's annoying!"  I responded, pretending to scratch my face off.
He didn't laugh.
"Are you going to die?"  he asked, face still covered with worry.
"No Prem.  I'm not going to die."  I responded gently. 
He didn't seem convinced.