In Which It Turns Out That There's Someone Kevin Can't Save
Kevin isn't a very strict teacher--doesn't set down many rules and he generally doesn't need to; his students are there because they want to be.
There's this one kid, though. This ...kid. Eleven years old when she first walked into Kevin's classroom, just another ragamuffin, too skinny and too pale, but this one was a spitfire. Bright, sure, quick to retort. Kevin kind of loves her. The streets haven't broken her down, and she's lackadaisical and carefree as if she hasn't a worry in the world. She breezes into class, does her work, and breezes out.
When he's walking home one evening, though, hands in pockets, quiet and content but still alert in the gathering twilight, he hears a familiar voice.
"Nice haul, kid. You gotta know, though, you work my alleyways, you pay a tax."
"A tax?" The answering voice is shaking with fear, and even younger than the first.
"That going to be a problem? Because you know, I can take it out of your haul or I can take it out of your skin."
Kevin speeds his pace, heading for the conversation. At the mouth of the alleyway he stops, taking in the scene, and reluctantly admits that it's just what it sounded like. She's standing there, and she doesn't look much like a star student with a bright future when she's brandishing a knife at a trembling child.
He calls out just loud enough to carry down the alleyway, "You need some help, kid?"
She whirls around in shock, but Kevin's eyes are trained on her target, and he looks the frightened boy in the eye as he says, "You look like you could maybe use a hand."
She's staring at him with huge, vulnerable eyes. "Mr. Kevin, I didn't mean--It's like you always say, you do what you have to to make it."
Kevin is horrified because it isn't something he would ever even consider, but for all that he mainlines self blame, he can't really bring himself to fully condemn. She's a kid, and she's been alone.
He does step forward and takes away the knife, and in a second, she's gone, running on shame, fear, or some combination of both.
...
Mike has got to ask, "What is it this time."
"Nothing," Kevin replies from his seat by the dying embers of the evening's fire, "Go back to bed, I'll join in a minute."
But the "this time" stings, as does the little sigh from the door to their bedroom.
Kevin stands before Mike can speak, brushes by him. "Come on, let's go to bed, it's no matter."
"It's obviously something," Mike says, following him into the bedroom, slipping under the covers and asking, "Do I have to guess."
"No."
Mike sits up. "Now you're just being petulant. Are those kids being a bad influence on you," he teases.
Kevin doesn't grin back at him. "It's nothing really," he says after a pause, "I just can't stop thinking about--she hasn't been back to class since that thing last week."
Mike takes his hand. "You tried, that's more than most will ever do for her."
Kevin twitches. "It still wasn't enough."
Mike turns over to face him.
"Kevin. If you're going to do this, you've got to know--you're not going to be able to save all of them. There are just too many."
Kevin stays silent, and Mike snuggles up to him. "Kevin, please, I thought once would be enough down this road."
"Sorry," he replies in a cold voice, "Didn't mean to bother you."
Mike doesn't say a word, and after a few moments, Kevin repeats "sorry." It's softer this time, more sincere, and he follows it up with, "But if I know I'm going to fail some of them, if I accept that, what's the point of trying?"
Mike holds on tight, like he's afraid Kevin's going to vanish again. "How about some basic math. How many have you lost, versus how many saved. Come on, tell me."
"I don't--I don't know. Not too many of either, yet," Kevin says with a rueful laugh.
"But the stats are piling up on the saves column, am I right?"
Kevin pouts. "I hate it when you use logic on me."
"I know you do," Mike says, soothing. He knows he's probably won, at least for now, but he adds this to the growing mental ledger of "things to keep an eye on."
Kevin at least seemed a little more relaxed now. Maybe they could get some sleep and tackle it fresh in the morning.