Dayton: The Junior Guardian Chronicles: Episode 53

as a note im work shopping mr. myers. So you’ll see him look differently for a bit as a settle into a final look as originally I didnt plan on him actually appearing but his role expanded in editing to where it felt weird not have him depicted.

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Mr. Myers did it gently, like he was trying not to startle a skittish animal or a stressed-out teenager. 

“Kins. Nicole.” He nodded toward the doors. “Go on inside. Grab a cart. Start with essentials.” 

Nicole opened her mouth like she wanted to argue on principle, then caught the look on his face and didn’t. She shifted her grip instead, sliding Kinsley higher against her hoodie so her sister’s feet weren’t dangling and bumping her ribs. 

Kinsley was warm through the fabric. Real weight, not much, but enough that Nicole’s arm knew exactly where she was every second. 

“Don’t buy any weird collar charms,” Kinsley muttered from the cradle of Nicole’s elbow, voice tight and small. It sounded like a joke until you listened to the parts she wasn’t saying. 

Nicole huffed a laugh right into Kinsley’s hair. “Oh my god. Ezra’s collar has these cute collar charms. ” 

Kinsley’s eyes flicked up at her, a flash of that familiar sass trying to reboot. “Yeah.  thats fine. For other people.” 

Nicole adjusted her again, hand firm around her middle in that practiced Guardian way that was protective and humiliating at the same time. “Uh-huh. Keep talking like that and you’re gonna be wearing one.” Nicole teased 

Kinsley made a face. The collar at her neck caught the late light, a tiny, expensive glint that felt louder than it looked. 

Mr. Myers held the door for them, stepping aside so Nicole could angle her body through without jostling Kinsley against the frame. Nicole went first, shoulder turning, one arm tight like a seatbelt. Kinsley’s head tucked briefly under Nicole’s chin as they crossed the threshold. 

The doors slid shut behind them with that soft, cheerful hiss. 

Bright light. A little bell chime. The smell of sanitizer and new plastic and packaged care. 

Kinsley’s gaze swept the aisles from Nicole’s arms, and her mouth tightened like she’d bitten down on something bitter. 

The store was pretending, as hard as it could, that this was normal. 

Dayton stayed on the sidewalk, suddenly exposed. No friends flanking her. No movement. Just the glass storefront reflecting her back at herself: hoodie, backpack strap, hair a little frizzy from the bus, face too composed. 

Mr. Myers shifted one step to the side, putting them out of the foot traffic stream without making it look like an interrogation. His hand rested loosely in his jacket pocket. The other held his keys, which he turned once, absentminded. 

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Now you tell me. Are you okay?” 

Dayton blinked. Once. Slow. Like her brain had to switch modes again, but this time it wasn’t Guardian training. It was… family. 

“I’m fine,” she said automatically. 

Mr. Myers tilted his head. Not skeptical. Just patient in that annoying adult way that made lying feel like extra homework. 

“Dayton.” 

Her mouth tightened. She looked past him at the parking lot, at the line of carts, at a mom wrestling a toddler out of a minivan. Normal life, happening like nothing cracked open. 

“It was just a lot,” she admitted, and the words came out faster than she meant. “It was… loud.” 

Mr. Myers exhaled like he’d been holding his breath since Nicole first started talking. “Nicole texted ‘SEA’ and then nothing else for forty minutes. Your mom called Sara’s mom. Sara’s mom called my wife. My wife called me. We got like… a relay race of panic. They had told your mom only a little.” 

Dayton’s throat moved. “I didn’t have my phone.” 

“I know,” he said. “I’m not mad. I’m telling you that you scared the entire adult population of this zip code.” 

That pulled the tiniest twitch at the corner of her mouth. Not a smile. But something that proved she was still in there. 

Mr. Myers watched her for a second longer, then softened his voice even more. “Walk me through it. From the second you realized it wasn’t normal.” 

Dayton stared at the automatic doors like she could still see the classroom through them. 

“We were just starting class” she said. “English.  Ezra, Mr. Rhys at that point was just starting the lecture or we were getting ready for him to start.  Then the door swung open and not like admin opens the door or another teacher.  Daytons fingers tightened around her totebag strap. “Then the lock-down tone went off. Not the fire one. It was the same one they use for shooters or situations where you need to lock every down in the classroom. You could hear teachers closing doors  and locking. Footsteps were everywhere in the hallway.” 

Mr. Myers’s jaw set. “The full lockdown.” 

Dayton nodded once. “And then they came in.” 

Her voice stayed steady, but her eyes didn’t. 

“Fully armored,” she said. “Guns. Helmets. Like… like they were going to raid a drug house.” She swallowed. “Kids started freaking out. Hannah’s hands were shaking so bad she couldn’t even close her laptop.” 

Mr. Myers’s face went still, the way it did when he was absorbing something he didn’t like but had to accept anyway. 

“And Ezra?” he asked. 

Dayton’s gaze dropped, just for a second, like her eyes couldn’t hold that name while looking at daylight. 

“He was there,” she said. “On his desk. He’s a little. This was the problem. He couldnt do anything. He had his podium, his microphone. But he couldnt protect anyone. He couldnt secure the door. He could just watch.” 

“They told us phones face down,” Dayton continued. “No recording. No talking. One of them stood at the door the whole time and I… I could see the muzzle of the gun from where I was sitting. Two more went to the windows. Blinds closed and then stood motionless at the ready.  Another in the back and then some at each door. Once hte room was locked down the two SEA agents came in.” 

Mr. Myers’s mouth tightened. “Damn.” 

Dayton flinched at the swearing, but only because it made it feel real. 

“They called me up front,” she said. 

“And you went.” 

“I had to.” Her voice sharpened, reflexively defensive, then softened again. “They asked if I had a collar.” 

Mr. Myers’s eyes flicked to her bag. “You did.” 

Dayton nodded. “I kept one. In my bag. For… for when it was time.” She said it like a confession, then added quickly, “I didn’t think it would be like that. I didn’t think it would be today.” 

Mr. Myers held her gaze. “And then they made you do it in front of everybody.” 

Dayton’s face pinched, just barely, like she’d bitten the inside of her cheek. 

“Yes.” 

A long second passed. Cars rolled by behind them. The Little Mart doors sighed open, sighed shut. The world kept doing that thing where it refuses to pause for your trauma. 

“He looked at me,” Dayton said, quieter now. “Like he thought I’d… change my mind. Like he thought I’d say something and stop it.” 

Mr. Myers asked gently, “Did you?” 

Dayton shook her head once. “No.” 

The honesty in it wasn’t cold. It was exhausted. 

Mr. Myers studied her, and when he spoke again his voice had that dad tone that didn’t belong to paperwork or politics, just human instinct. 

“Dayton. You’re a kid.” 

Dayton’s spine straightened automatically. “I’m certified.” 

“I know you are.” He kept his tone even. “You’re also thirteen. And they put you in the front of a room full of children and made you collar your teacher while armed agents watched. That is not normal.” 

Dayton’s eyes flashed. “He wasn’t supposed to be teaching like that. He knew the law.” 

Mr. Myers nodded, accepting her point without yielding his own. “Maybe. But two things can be true. He can be wrong, and you can still be shaken.” 

Dayton’s throat worked. She blinked, faster now, like her eyes were trying to rinse themselves. 

“I didn’t feel powerful,” she said, and there was anger in it, but it wasn’t aimed at him. “I felt like… I was being used.” 

Mr. Myers’s expression softened again. “Yeah.” 

Dayton looked down at the concrete. “And then after… everyone just kept working. Like it was normal. Like, ‘Oh, the SEA raided our classroom, anyway back to power point.’” 

Mr. Myers let out a short breath. “That’s how kids survive school. You normalize the insane thing and keep moving.” 

Dayton’s mouth twitched again, almost bitter. “Ezra asked me for attention after. Like… like he was drowning.” 

Mr. Myers’s gaze sharpened. Not accusing. Just careful. “And what did you do?” 

Dayton hesitated. “I talked to him. I told him what the rules were. I told him what happens next.” 

“And?” Mr. Myers prompted. 

Dayton’s voice dropped. “He looked… smaller.” 

Mr. Myers nodded once, like that made horrible sense. 

Then he shifted his stance, getting a fraction closer, still respectful of her space, but more openly protective. 

“Listen,” he said. “You’re family. You know that, right? If you ever need to come to our house, you come. You ever need an adult who isn’t your mom, because sometimes moms are moms, you call me. You call my wife. You call Sara’s parents. We are not leaving you alone in this.” 

Dayton’s eyes went shiny, and she hated it. She looked away fast, like tears were another thing she refused to give the system. 

“I’m okay,” she said again, but this time it was smaller. 

Mr. Myers nodded like he heard the difference. “Good. Because I’m going to say one more thing and then we’re going in.” 

Dayton braced herself. 

His voice stayed gentle. “Being a Guardian doesn’t mean you don’t get to feel awful. It means you do the job anyway and then you deal with the fact you’re a human being afterward.” 

Dayton swallowed hard. 

“And if the only way you can deal with it is pretending you’re fine,” he added, “I’m going to gently ruin that plan.” 

That finally earned him a real, shaky half-smile. 

“Okay,” Dayton whispered. 

Mr. Myers glanced through the glass doors where Nicole and Kinsley were already moving between aisles, two heads bent together like co-conspirators. He put a hand on Dayton’s shoulder, warm and steady. 

“Go get your stuff,” he said. “We’ll handle the rest together.” 

Dayton nodded once, squared her shoulders, and followed him toward the doors as they slid open with that same cheerful, stupid hiss. 

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