Page 1 of Mr. B

Chapter one

“I guess I just wanted to ruin your day, Wes.”

Wes parked his 1980 Jeep Wagoneer in his reserved spot. The sign at the front of it had been gifted to him by the senior class a few years ago and read, ‘Don’t even think about parking in Mr. B’s spot.’ The space was in front of the office next to the parent drop-off lane, which was backed up several cars into the street. It was the first day of school, which was always chaotic until the bell rang and everyone was safe in their classrooms.

It was his thirteenth first day of school, even though technically he worked year-round. He left his car and headed for the office.

“Morning, Mr. B.”

He smiled at the three girls walking by. “Ladies.”

As he approached the office door, a young man was coming through it, not paying attention. Wes took a step back. “Whoa there, Leo.”

“Mr. B. Sorry, man.” Leo held the door open.

“How’s the team looking this year?”

“This is our year. We’re going all the way.”

“Go Badgers!” Wes went through the door and waved at Polly behind the counter. She had help today with the many students with various problems filling the lobby. Wes made his way through the kids to his office, then went in and closed the door behind him.

He exhaled loudly. “And here we go.” He went to his desk, sat down, and turned on his computer. As he checked his email, the hum of voices in the outer office gradually faded as first period approached.

When Polly knocked once, then opened the door, looking exasperated, he smiled. “Happy first day of school.”

“They are finally all where they need to be. Your welcome speech is in ten minutes.”

“Got it.” When she hovered in the doorway, he cocked his head. “What’s up?”

“Did you read the memo from Superintendent Morrow?”

“I was just wading through my emails.”

“You should read it.”

“Why don’t you just tell me what it said?”

“Sir, I’d never…” She sighed. “It didn’t say private or anything. I was curious.”

“What did it say?”

“Mr. Bishop is gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?”

“He quit. Turned in his resignation and moved to Florida.”

“When?”

“This morning.”

Wes leaned back in his chair. “Well, crap.”

“He wants you to call him.”

“Bishop?”

“No, the superintendent.”