He lingered for a beat before saying in his brisk, stern voice, “Anyone can be a decent teacher if they do the bare minimum. Only a few will ever be great. As far as I’m concerned, I want my students learning from those who take it upon themselves to keep teaching, even when they’re not in a school.” He didn’t smile, but he said, “I look forward to the Christmas concert.”
“Thank you,” I answered.
McCabe nodded tersely. “Welcome back.” He turned after that and walked into his office.
I stood around for a moment or two afterward, listening to the tapping of computer keyboards from both guidance counselor offices, before I grabbed my things and went to reception.
“Ms. Lee? Could I have a few minutes before the assembly is called?”
She looked up from speaking with the secretary. “Sure. Is fifteen minutes okay?”
“That’s perfect. Thank you.”
I left the office and ran down the hall toward the music room. Stopping outside, I peeked through the door to see my class—Alan included—sitting around doing nothing. While we might have still been planning to host the concert, it was a bit difficult for the band to practice without a director. And it was a safe assumption the substitute sitting near the piano hadn’t recently taken any courses on conducting.
I opened the door and stepped inside. “Geez, what is this? We’ve got a show in four days and you guys are twiddling your thumbs?”
The students all looked up at me.
“Wait,” Alan said. “You had to meet with the superintendent. So, is it all good? Did you get your job back?” he asked excitedly.
I smiled. “I did.”
Everyone jumped out of their seats. Music stands fell over and books dropped to the floor as my students came to greet me at the door.
FELIX HADbeen told the story by one of the officers on his case, and it unraveled pretty much how we all figured it would. It turned out that when Bucker had been taken in by the police for questioning, he cracked and fessed up to the fire at Felix’s orchard. Realizing how utterly screwed he was, Bucker wasted no time accusing Cass of helping in the destruction. Cue the police arriving on Monday to arrest the principal, while Doris Lee had been in the midst of firing him for what he’d tried doing to me.
Last Tuesday, when Felix had brought treats for the band students and Cass realized we were an item, he decided he wasn’t going to have anothergayon his staff. He knew about Stephen, but Stephen had been teaching for nearly twenty years, had tenure, and had seen half a dozen principals come and go at the high school. He was untouchable. Me? I’d been there forless than a month. As far as Cass was concerned, I was open season. He’d figured a concocted story concerning sexual misconduct would be believed and not questioned, considering my predecessor’s legacy.
Where Bucker and Felix got involved was when Cass had told his good old buddy about us. And Bucker, having a stick up his ass about Felix for years, wanted to screw with him like how Cass was ruining me. They’d had one too many to drink late into the night and early the next morning, broken into Snowy Ridge, and what began as run-of-the-mill vandalizing escalated quickly when they found the storage shed Felix kept gasoline in for his snowblower and lawn mowers.
And that was how two not-so-nice guys got their just deserts.
I didn’t have much time to dwell on it. The band and I were swept away in a blur of rehearsing for the concert. Christmas vacation began on Friday for the district, so the performance on Thursday night was kind of like a send-off. We kept the show at the town hall after the FHA club approached me, asking if they could organize the promotion, decorating, and host a fundraiser to satisfy requirements for their own club duties. I was happy to let them have at it, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to decorate. I barely had enough time to bathe that week.
I had been expecting some garland strung around the big hall, but when the band and I arrived on Thursday evening, we found the FHA kids hard at work with the finishing touches. A big banner had been hung across the base of the stage, welcoming the high school band. They had twinkling lights and garland everywhere—windows, support beams, along the ceiling, and draped from the second-story balcony. The lights were subdued, and electric candles gleamed invitingly. Handmade wreaths of fresh pine were on doors, and glass bulb and star ornaments were sprinkled around the hall. Instrumental music mixed with the sound of a crackling fire played from the speakers, and it was warm and orange.
I diverted to a long table set up to the right of the front door. “This looks amazing,” I said to the students. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome!” a spunky girl replied, who then introduced herself to me as the president of the FHA club. “Oh, and the culinary class provided all the treats for our fundraiser,” she said, holding her hands out toward the plates and trays of every delectable holiday treat you could think of.
“Wow, you guy are seriously awesome,” I replied. I eyed some sugar cookies and promised myself one later. “What’s the fundraiser for?”
She grabbed a sign and set it up on the table. “This!”
It had the prices of the food, then underneath it read:Prepared by the high school culinary class, overseen by Chef Wilks. All proceeds go to restoring Snowy Ridge Apple Orchard.
She was bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Do you like it, Mr. Merlin?”
I looked up at her. “All of you organized this for Mr. Hansen?”
“Yeah! Mr. Hansen is the best. He lets me work at the orchard part-time in the summer. It’s great for my résumé,” she said.
“Does he know you did this?”
“I don’t think so. We wanted it to be a surprise,” she answered.
Felix was definitely going to cry.
