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“And Beau? How was your first day?”
I’m sweating like a pig, so I adjust my necktie. “Not gonna lie. I skated,” I say, feeling better having admitted that.
Mary blinks at me with those long, dark lashes that slay me every time. “Skated? What do you mean? Did the old software crap out on you and lose your lesson plans? It happens.”
I scrub my face with the palm of my hand and shift my weight. The squeaking chair in this otherwise silent room seems extra loud, with five pairs of be-spectacled eyes studying me. “Yeah, so…I didn’t actually have a plan?”
Someone clears their throat. Mary squints. “What do you mean?”
And suddenly, it’s football season my senior year, and my tutor is listening to me fumble for excuses about why I didn’t study for mid-terms.
“I may not have done the homework. I mean, the plans … the lesson plans.”
She nods slowly. “Well, did you at least distribute the assigned reading list? We need to know how many copies each to tell the media center director to order for the kids who can’t afford them.”
I clear my throat. Damn this squeaky chair. “List?”
The one called Karla throws in, “I put all those sheets in your cubby. I assume someone showed you your cubby at orientation.”
My eyebrows go up, and I stare wide-eyed at Mary. “Well, we didn’t get that far with the tour; it sorta ended at the supply closet.”
Mary's face does something I haven't seen in fifteen years—the last time someone was this mad at me.
Quietly, Mary pushes away from the table. “Excuse me, everyone. I’m not feeling well.”
Grabbing her tote bag, she hurries out the door.
Four pairs of eyes are looking everywhere but at me.
Oh shit.
I fucked up.
Big time.
ChapterFourteen
Mary
Beau follows me down the hall.
“Mary, wait.”
I ignore him. I’m too mad to talk right now. If I open my mouth, I will say something I regret.
We pass by gaggles of students hanging around waiting for football practice, cheerleading practice. Some of them high-five Beau as he trails behind me.
“Good luck this weekend, Coach Fontaine.”
“Thanks, guys.”
I sniff. He cannot even be bothered to assert authority as a teacher. He really doesn’t take any of this seriously, does he? He probably has not even read the handbook.
With my teacher voice, I handle it. “Y’all are supposed to report to the cafetorium to do homework if you’re waiting for sports or activities. You know there’s no loitering in the halls after school.”
I wait for the kids to disperse amid rolling eyes and mutterings of “seriously.”
I spin back around and head for the door.
