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“You’ll figure it out.” The principal gave her a smug smile. “Let’s be honest, you don’t exactly teach advanced physics. Lincoln Atwood won’t find your curriculum challenging. And he’s a pro. I can guarantee you he won’t introduce the students to anythingcorrupting. He will also keep you in line teaching Shakespeare rather than those women writers you insist on promoting.”
Grace ground her teeth together. Despite Spruce’s dislike of literature and poetry, if Bliss Cove High could claim the distinction of having aPulitzer-prize-winningfamous author as part of the specialist program…well, then, the principal would fall over himself to ensure such prestige and future funding.
Especially at her expense.
“Why does he want to teach anyway?” she asked. “And what is he doing in Bliss Cove?”
Spruce gave a long-suffering sigh. “He arrived last weekend for a visit, and he contacted me on Monday about coming in to talk to the students. When I invited him to participate in the Real World Specialist program—through my quick thinking, I might add—he agreed it would be a good use of his time. Have you read his books? No one writes like him, with such gritty and raw perception about the condition of mankind.”
Grace almost asked him what website he was quoting, but managed to stop herself just in time. “I’m not saying he isn’t a good writer, but—”
“Agood writer?” Spruce’s eyes bulged out. “Lincoln Atwood is agenius. A master of his craft. What other author can express the power of the physical world and distill it into the virility of a man’s relationship with himself and nature?”
Grace didn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes.
“Mypoint,” she replied, “is that Lincoln Atwood writes a specific type of male-oriented fiction that has its place in the literary world, but is entirely unsuitable for myclassroom and curriculum. You’re going to have to place him with someone else.”
“Miss Berry.” Spruce drew himself up to his full height and hooked his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets. “You appear to have forgotten who makes the rules here. Mr. Atwood has signed a contract, and he has been assured that you are both honored and delighted by the idea of sharing your classroom with his eminent presence.”
Grace gaped. “You told him I washonoredanddelighted?”
A flash of discomfort crossed the principal’s face. “Well, honestly, any rational educator would have assumed you would be.”
“I agree that my students would benefit greatly from a lecture or a discussion with Lincoln Atwood, but I can’t revise my curriculum with only two months left in the school year.”
“You have no choice.” Spruce narrowed his eyes. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Miss Berry. I strongly suggest you change your attitude and treat Mr. Atwood with the devotion and respect he so richly deserves.”
Grace dug her fingernails into her palms. “When is he scheduled to start?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?I’m supposed to change my entire lesson plan overnight to accommodate him?”
“MissBerry.” The principal thumped his fist on the desk. “You have already demonstrated a clear lack of cooperation and disregard for the policies of my administration. And your refusal to be a team player in the Todd Oliver situation is putting both me and our athletics department in a difficult position.”
He pointed a finger at her. “So if you do anything to thwart Mr. Atwood’s experience here…if you exhibit one iota of dissent or if you evenlook at him wrong, I will personally file disciplinary measures against you that could very well lead to your termination. Am I clear?”
Grace blew out an irritated breath and shoved her anger down deep. She gave a short nod. “Crystal.”
“Good.” The principal straightened a stack of papers on his desk and sat down. “I’ll be watching you. If Lincoln Atwood’s time here is anything less than a resounding success, I’m holding you responsible. You are dismissed.”
Swiveling on her heel, Grace stalked out of the room and shut the door behind her with a sharp click. Carrie, the administrative assistant, reached into her desk drawer and held a thick bar of dark chocolate out to her.
“You’re an angel.” With a groan of appreciation, Grace took the chocolate and peeled open the wrapper.
“Sorry I couldn’t give you an advanced warning.” Carrie pushed her cat’s-eye glasses back onto her nose. “I was under strict instructions not to tell anyone until Lincoln Atwood had signed the contract.”
“It’s okay.” Grace broke off a few squares of chocolate. “I probably couldn’t have done anything about it, even if I’d known earlier.”
“If it helps, he seems like a decent guy,” Carrie remarked. “He’s super-hot, too.”
Great. All she needed was for her students to get distracted by a “super-hot” guest teacher. She handed the rest of the chocolate bar back to Carrie, who waved away the gesture.
“Keep it,” she said. “Looks like you need it more than I do.”
After thanking her again, Grace walked back to her classroom. So much for doing her prep work for the rest of the week. Not that her prep work was even relevant anymore, if she had to change her entire curriculum.
She sank down at her desk and shoved another piece of chocolate into her mouth.
