Me, You, & The Party Rock Crew

“Sometimes I just can’t believe you happened.” – Ariana Grande

Izzie let out a shaky breath. She hadn’t realized that she had been holding her breath for so long. The feel of Stelly’s soft paw, pawing at her ankle brought her out of yet another flashback. 

“Yeah, you’re right, Stell,” she smiled and scooped up the 2-year-old cat into her arms, feeling the familiar warmth. Stelly’s pleased purring as padded her way to turn off the light in the kitchen brought slowly back to reality.

She set down Stelly at her cat tree, and Izzie paused for a moment by the window. Outside, the waves crashed against the shore, a rhythmic soothing sound. There was a half moon in the sky, just starting to set over the Pacific horizon. She let out a soft breath, staring out wistfully into the moonlit ocean. 

The weekend flew by in a blur and suddenly, it was Monday all over again.

At the front of the office, Maisie, her secretary, was putting the finishing touches on the lights on her desk, making the office look festive and bright. Izzie paused for a moment, a warm smile tugging at her lips. The twinkle of lights, the garland draped on the edges of the counter–it reminded her of fonder times as a kid. 

Her mother, Odalys was a well-beloved school secretary, and Christmas was her favorite time of year. Every December, Izzie would tag along to help her mom and the head secretary, Mrs. Molly, decorate the front office with the help of Mrs. Molly’s grandson, Angelo. They’d wrap garland around every available surface, hang stockings labeled with each staff member’s name, and sneak an extra candy cane or peppermint Ghiradelli chocolate whenever no one was looking. 

Now here she was, 20 years later in her own school office, watching the decorations go up. 

“Looks good, doesn’t it?” Maisie sighed wistfully. 

“It looks spectacular, ” Izzie nodded. “I think it truly brightens up the place.” 

“I agree! Plus it keeps PTA from hounding us about why there weren’t any decorations up yet,” Maisie added with an exasperated shake of her head. 

Before Izzie could respond, the morning rush began. Teachers streamed in to grab mail from their boxes, check in with Maisie, and inevitably, summon Izzie with questions. Some were routine–curriculum shifts, and minor scheduling issues. Others revolved around the looming chaos ahead: 

The annual winter ball. 

For the students, it was the event of the year. For the staff, it was another logistical headache waiting to happen. Every year, it marked the unofficial turning point of the school year–the moment when middle schoolers felt older and aware of the world around them. Where friendship bonds were strengthened and crushes were revealed, and inevitably, where by the end of the night, someone left home in tears. 

It was hardly 9 am and already there was a bustling excitement in the hallways. 

“Did you hear? Jake’s gonna ask her at lunch?” 

“Think she’ll say yes?” 

“Oh my god, what if she doesn’t?” 

“Ten bucks says she won’t!” 

Middle school dramatics at their peak. 

“Ms. Wallace?” A voice pulled her from her thoughts. 

She turned to see Julian Vazquez, one of her eighth graders, standing just outside the office. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his navy blue Adidas hoodie, shifting nervously on his feet. 

“Hey, Julian,” Izzie warmly greeted, “What’s up?” 

Julian hesitated for a moment, glancing at Maisie before lowering his voice, “Can, I um, talk to you in your office?” 

That was never a good sign. 

With a small, reassuring nod, Izzie led Julian inside, gesturing for him to have a seat. “Everything okay? 

Julian exhaled sharply, clearly working up the nerve to say something. “So uh…the winter ball is on Friday.” 

“I’m aware.” 

He huffed out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, well the thing is, I was gonna ask Camille to go with me, but I think I screwed up.” 

Julian and Camille were best friends, but everyone–students and staff alike–could see the way they gravitated towards each other, lingering in hallways, laughing a little too long. It was only a matter of time. 

Izzie’s eyebrows slowly lifted. “What happened?” 

“I don’t know. I was gonna ask her last week, but then my friends started making a big deal about it, and I got in my head. So when she asked if I was going, I kind of…played it off? Said I wasn’t sure.” 

Izzie blinked, the words hitting closer to home than she expected. 

I wasn’t thinking. 

That’s all Simon had said, years ago. That’s all he had said, even four years ago. 

Julian groaned, his hands rubbing his face. “And then, I think she saw me talking to Olivia after school on Friday and now she won’t even look at me.” 

Ah, young love. Some things never change. 

Izzie leaned forward, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. “You like Camille, right?” 

Julian’s ears tinged a bright pink. “Y-yeah.” 

“Then you should tell her. Be honest with her. If she’s upset, the least you can do is give her an explanation. Don’t let her walk away thinking you don’t care.” 

He nodded slowly, mulling over her words. “Yeah, okay.” After a moment of contemplation, he speaks up again, “You think she’d still say yes if I asked her?” 

“There’s only one way to find out, kiddo,” Izzie chuckled. 

Years ago, she waited for Simon to say the same thing–to acknowledge that he cared, that he wanted to fix it. And eventually, he did. 

Maybe, after all this time, that was the moment worth remembering–not just how it ended, but how it began. 

Later in the day, Izzie sat in the empty classroom of Mr. Terry–he had taken his kids out for a nature walk around campus to get them from being so fidgety. She took a sip of her matcha, letting out a soft sigh. 

“Josie, I don’t know what to do.” 

“At this point, it’s been sitting in your inbox like a cursed object. Just open it, Iz,” Josie encouraged. Her voice was warm, reassuring on the other end of the line. 

“I know, but reading it now, this week, out of all the weeks this could have happened where everything is practically on fire because of this Winter Ball, I mean of course this had to be my idea to get these kids from being so miserable before the holidays but–” 

“It’s been a week since he sent you the email, did you not just say that?”

“Yes,” Izzie’s voice was smaller now, knowing she had to prepare to get scolded. 

Before she could even continue her conversation with Josie, there was a knock on the door. 

Jose Velasquez, head of IT–and, as fate would have it, one of Izzie’s old volleyball buddies from grad school–stood at the door. He was part of the friend group that consisted of Quinn before everyone went their own separate ways. It was pretty fated that she’d reconnect with someone she was pretty close with, someone she saw as a younger sibling of sorts. 

“Hey J, one sec,” Izzie pointed to her phone. 

Jose nodded and waved for her to continue. 

“Hey Josie, I gotta get going, I’ve got some work things to settle–” 

“Is that Jelly bean? Hey girl! It’s Jose!” He loudly called out. This incited a laugh from Josie. 

“Hi Jose, bye Jose,” she chuckled on the other end. There was this awkward flirtation that Jose attempted to try on Josie–little did he know that she was freshly engaged to her husband who he had had a riveting conversation with about technological advances. She’d never let him live it down. 

“Bye Josie!” He called out

“Alright Josie, I’ll talk to you later,” Izzie laughed and hung up. 

“Okay, lay it on me, I can tell by the beads of sweat on your forehead it’s not looking good.” 

“Yeah,” Jose sighed. “So, between the syncing issues and the colors glitching, I did some troubleshooting and some of the wiring is fried. I could try and see if I can get one of my guys out here, but he’s in San Diego so the timing will be tight.” 

Izzie’s heart sank. San Diego was a haul from Santa Monica–factor in traffic, and it was practically a day trip. She chewed the inside of her cheek in thought. The silence in the room was loud. 

Her thoughts drifted back to the email–to Simon. He could fix a frayed wire in a heartbeat. All he’d need was a few materials, a dream, and give minutes. He’d have it working like new. But calling him now? It wasn’t just about a favor–it meant facing whatever was in that damn email. 

“Leave it to me,” Izzie finally spoke up. “I know someone who can fix it. He’s an old friend.” 

“Yeah for sure! I can send you pictures of what’s going on or did you want to tag along?” 

“Trust me, I need the walk.” 

The two of them briskly made their way through the hallway, Jose caught Izzie up on old volleyball group drama. How Louis and Mackenzie are back on as a couple after spending years with their ‘will they, won’t they’ nonsense, and how Quinn and Rosalyn are on the outs again. The thought brought a slight squeeze to Izzie’s chest. 

When their volleyball group originally formed, Quinn had gone through a nasty breakup with Rosalyn that practically ruined his entire reputation in front of the student body. She spread rumors about him being insecure, that he would follow her to class when he’d walk Diana–the youngest of the volleyball group–to her dorm. She even attempted to bring down any of the girls that got close to him–including Izzie. 

“God, when is Quinn going to wake up and realize that Rosalyn is only dating him to get ahead?” 

“We all know how that guy is. But hey, good for him, I guess,” He shrugged. 

Izzie shrugged with a sigh as they entered the gym and there were the lights in all their glitchy glory. Some of them blinked faster than the other, while other colors like orange and purple glowed vibrantly, and the rest were a soft periwinkle. 

“Yikes…okay, let me…” Izzie began, taking pictures of the lights, and Jose pointed to the areas that were frayed. She walked over to take closer shots of the wires. They looked bad, but nothing Simon couldn’t handle. 

He owed her one, after all. 

“Okay, I’m going to get these to my friend, and I’ll reconnect with you if not by the end of the day today, tomorrow,” Izzie reassured Jose. 

“No problem. Push comes to shove…we’ll get new lights and close our eyes at the budget,” he laughed. 

“Niiice try,” Izzie gave him a knowing look and made her away out of the gym, leaving Jose to make a few calls about other IT matters. 

The bell rang and the hallway was bustling with teens, hushed whispers about the glitchy lights and how they’d be fixed. Others talked about how someone might have sabotaged the lights, and rumors swirled about rats getting to the wires. She and her friends were very much the same in the hallway many moons ago–suspicion and conspiracy theories. 

“Principal Wallace! Just the person I was looking for!” Mr. Terry called out with a bright smile. 

Mr. Terry–Bradley–was just a few years older than Izzie, but everyone knew the man was crushing hard on her, and she–was not.

“Hey, Terry,”  Izzie tried to maintain a cordial smile. “What’s up?” 

“I have a few students that were wondering if they could help out Mr. Velasquez with the lights, I mean, you know they have a free period and all after lunch, maybe they can give a little swing?” 

“I don’t see why not, but the problem looks to be a little more complicated. But, kids these days, they know technology more than we do, so I’m sure they can figure it out” Izzie chuckled. 

“That’s the spirit! Oh, by the way, will you be attending the winter ball? I-I mean chaperoning?” He stammered. 

“I–will, yes,” Izzie grinned. She could already feel her stomach churn. She had to come up with a game plan to make sure to avoid Terry like the plague. 

“Perfect! Then I will see you there,” He winked. 

Gross. 

“Definitely. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go set up notes for this afternoon’s PTA meeting,” she said quickly and rushed past him to her office. 

Maisie was busy talking with a parent who wanted to sign out their student for the day. Izzie gave one quick hi to both and closed the door quickly to her office. 

She breathed a sigh of relief.

There she was, staring down the email. Unread, just staring. All she could see was the preview of it:

“Hey Izzie–or is it Isabella now…” 

The line echoed in her head like the hook of one of her favorite songs. She kept glancing at it as she worked on the notes for the PTA meeting for that afternoon. All she had to do was open it, all she had to do was just take one good look at it, but then– 

“Miss Wallace?” Maisie called out, her face suddenly pale as she peered into Izzie’s door. 

“What’s up, Mais?” Izzie snapped out of her work reverie. 

“You might want to add another topic to that PTA meeting…” 

Izzie finally emerged from her office to see Lizzie, Allison, Heather, and Veronica, their spray tanned faces with a hint of red. 

“How can I help you ladies?” She flashed a smile. 

“We just got wind about The Winter Ball being YULE BALL themed?!” Heather piped up angrily. She truly did live up to her name–and not in the best way. Heather was the alpha mom of their area in Santa Monica. She was the mean girl and a thorn in Izzie’s side. 

“Yes, I thought that was clear at the last meeting?” 

The other women looked at each other. Lizzie, Allison, and Veronica stood awkwardly while Heather was clearly trying to get all the attention. 

“Well, I wasn’t there. Maribel said nothing to me about the matter!” 

“Last I checked, Maribel was the PTA president to your treasurer,” Maisie shot back with an eyebrow raise. 

Izzie held out her hand toward Maisie, calmly signally that she could handle this diplomatically. 

“Let’s finish setting up the cafeteria for the meeting, and we can absolutely discuss further about what the students voted for and how we can deviate from JK Rowling’s message,” Izzie explained. 

“I just–I don’t understand how this completely went undetected? Did no one think to check?”

“Heather,” Izzie emphasized firmly, a subtle warning to leave before she was escorted off school grounds and not invited to the meeting, “We have half an hour. Please go to the cafeteria and focus on what we need to get done there.” 

Heather shot a look at the other three with an icy glare. “Let’s go ladies.” 

The moment Heather and her crew left the office, Izzie and Maisie exchanged a glance. 

“No amount of plastic surgery will ever fix that woman’s ugly personality,” Maisie huffed. 

“Tell me about it,” Izzie mumbled, shaking her head. She went back to her computer to print out the agenda for the PTA meeting. 

Thirty minutes felt like a minute for Izzie. By the time she had everything done, the school day had ended and Izzie was going to the cafeteria. Maribel looked exasperated, Heather looked smug. Parents were sitting down and reading over the agenda. 

Maribel took a seat at the front, a notebook in one hand and the agenda in the other. 

“I’d like to open up our session with some updates about our amazing after-school program,” she announced with a bright smile. “Our eighth graders will be volunteering at the library for the book drive for the veterans in the next few weeks. We’re still looking for three more volunteers for that and for the recital at the elementary school. If you’d like your child to sign up, please see me during sign-outs today or after our meeting.” 

A few parents nodded in approval, murmuring amongst themselves. Heather, on the other hand, looked less than pleased–or maybe it was the Botox settling in. Slowly, her hand rose. 

“Heather?” Maribel acknowledged, her expression unreadable. Izzie knew that Maribel was silently bracing for impact. 

“I’d like to address a concern that a few of the moms and I have about this year’s Winter Ball theme,” Heather said, folding her arms. 

Lizzie, Allison, and Veronica–Heather’s usual lackeys–nodded in agreement, flashing smug smiles. 

Maribel and Izzie exchanged a knowing look. Figures.  Especially knowing that the three of them happily volunteered to buy some of the dance supplies. 

Murmurs ripped through the cafeteria. 

“Here we go again.” 

“Must she always have a problem?” 

“What’s her deal this time?” 

Heather’s voice cut through. “I just don’t feel comfortable about the theme considering JK Rowling’s political stance.” 

“I completely understand your concern,” Maribel began, but Heather rudely interrupted. 

“I mean, why was this even an option?” she snapped. 

Sighs and eye rolls swept through the room. Izzie, too, resisted the burning urge to roll her eyes. If Heather cared so damn much, why wasn’t she PTA president?

Oh right. No one liked her. 

Maribel’s voice cut through the tension, firm and unyielding. “I wasn’t done speaking.” 

Heather’s mouth snapped shut. 

“The students of Santa Monica Middle School nominated their own themes, and student government held a vote,” Maribel explained. “When the idea came into question by our principal, Ms. Wallace, she addressed concerns about JK Rowling’s political stance. The students countered by ensuring that none of the supplies would be purchased from the official Harry Potter website or any affiliates. All decore will be homemade or sourced from independent artists on Etsy. Furthermore, to distance themselves from the author’s views, the LGBTQ club–also known as the ‘Alphabet Mafia Club–is hosting a fundraiser at the dance, with proceeds going to the Human Rights Campaign and the ACLU.” 

Pleased murmurs filled the room. Parents exchanged approving glances, clearly impressed by how thoughtful their kids had been in making the dance inclusive. 

Heather’s expression twisted in frustration. “So we’re just going to support this controversy?” 

Izzie finally spoke up. It was time to shut this down. 

“Once again, Heather,” she said smoothly, “our students genuinely care about one another and have worked tirelessly to ensure this dance is welcoming for everyone. The last thing I’m going to do is shut them down after all that effort.” She lifted a finger and added, “And the superintendent has already approved their proposal.” 

She made sure to emphasize that part. If Heather wanted to argue, she’d have to take it up with the district.  

Heather’s mouth opened, then snapped shut. 

Luis Gonzalez, Camila’s dad, leaned forward. “The best thing we can do as parents is support our kids. They worked hard on this. I mean, come on–we had Harry Potter when we were growing up too. Sure, it was before all the controversy, but shouldn’t we give them the chance to explore their own magic?” 

There was a wave of nods of agreement. Heather huffed and dropped into her seat, arms crossed. Lizzie reached out to pat her shoulder, but Heather rebuffed her, as always. 

The tension in the room shifted as the Robotics Club arrived, led by a slightly out-of-breath Jose. 

“The IT department and Robotics Club are working tirelessly to fix the lights,” Jose announced, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Worst case, we’ll have replacement lights by tomorrow.” 

Izzie nodded, relieved–until a voice called her name. 

“Ms. Wallace?” 

She turned to see Yash, one of her seventh graders, waving her over.  

“Excuse me, everyone. Maribel, please continue,” she said with a smile before stepping away to join Jose and the Robotics club. 

Jose leaned in slightly. “Any word from your friend yet?” 

Shoot. She hadn’t even opened the email. 

“Not yet,” Izzie lied, keeping her gaze locked just below Jose’s eyes–right at his rocket ship tie. 

“He’s probably having a busy day, so I’ll follow up with him now. That okay with you all? 

Jose narrowed his eyes. He could always tell when she was lying. 

“Mhm,” he hummed knowingly. “Just let me know if I need to make a Walmart or Target run after work.” 

She flashed him a sheepish smile before slipping away to her office. 

Alone at last, she exhaled and sank into her chair. The meeting had been handled, the parents appeased–now all she had to do was open that email. 

Her finger hovered over the mousepad. 

Why was she hesitating? 

She shook her head, took a breath, and clicked.