“I’m sorry?”
“Whenever you have to use the chalkboard, make sure to brush vertically, like this,” he said. He made up-and-down sweeping gestures with his arm, pantomiming a space much larger than the small chalkboard that hung on the far wall. “Not horizontally, like this,” he went on, making long, side-to-side sweeping gestures, weirdly waving his butt back and forth as he did so. “The young boys will find it distracting.”
Third-grade boys checking out my ass? I didn’t really know how to respond to that, so I cleared my throat and said, “Thanks for the tip.”
“My pleasure,” he said in a way that sounded like it really was.
But not in a good way. At least not for me.
Still grinning, he walked into the classroom. If he hoped I was going to practice erasing the chalkboard, he’d be waiting a long time. If he commented on it, I’d remind him that I’d only use the chalkboard in the rare instance my smart board wasn’t working. Maybe I’d tell him that I planned on having my students do all the erasing.
“I’ve seen you around,” Harvey kept going. “Haven’t had time to say hi yet though. Being the veep keeps me busier than you’d think. But I guess that’s what it takes for that sweet paycheck, huh?”
He laughed, and I was reminded of the hyenas fromThe Lion King– not in a positive way. I grimaced a smile as I crossed my arms, not thinking until it was too late that I probably shouldn’t have done it. When his gaze dropped to my breasts, I stifled a curse. I considered calling him on it but ultimately decided that antagonizing someone of authority before I even got the chance to do any actual teaching was probably unwise. Especially since he’d most likely deny it, and the whole encounter would end up being a ‘he said, she said’ situation. Better to be cautious.
“Cornelius Harvey,” he said, sticking out his hand. “Most people call me ‘veep.’ But you can call me Harv.”
I managed not to grimace as I shook his sweaty hand. “Lumen Browne. You can call me Ms. Browne.”
He laughed, as if I’d been joking. I didn’t correct him, concentrating more on trying to free my hand.
“Good to meet you, Lumen. Always nice to see fresh graduates join the team. Makes me look forward to every new September.”
“I’m glad to be a part of Kurt Wright School,” I said awkwardly as I surreptitiously rubbed my palm on my hip. “One of my professors specifically recommended KWS for any of us who were interested in a diverse educational experience.”
“Who’s your professor? I know all the professors connected to the school.”
Somehow, I doubted that. “Jewel Abbey.”
He frowned. “Oh.”
I wondered how much of that reaction was because I’d named someone he didn’t know, or because the professor in question was a woman.
“Where did you go to college?”
While it could’ve been a perfectly innocent question, I didn’t think it was out of line to assume that very little with him was innocent. “Seattle Pacific.”
He smirked. “That explains it.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean? “It’s a good university.” My voice was tight, but at least not accusatory.
He showed me his palms, giving me the sort of ‘aw, shucks’ look I’d seen on the faces of too many sleazy politicians. “No, no, of course it is. It’s just not one we tend to hear a lot about in the public sector.”
I didn’t point out that KWS wasn’t a public school. I knew what he meant. Seattle Pacific was a Christian university. I hadn’t chosen it for its religious values, however. One of the women who’d volunteered at one of the after-school programs I’d gone to in high school had been an alumnus, and she’d given me a glowing recommendation…and some help applying for a couple scholarships.
“It’s just that we always tend to look out for our own, right? And around here, that means Washington U has priority. Of course, there are exceptions for the exceptional.”
I didn’t crack a smile as the last little bit of my patience stretched to the breaking point.
He laughed to break the tension. “Look, Lumen, I’m just trying to be–”
“It’s Ms. Browne.”
He looked surprised that I’d interrupted him. “What?”
I spoke slower, making each word clearly deliberate. “I prefer to be called Ms. Browne at work.”
Harvey stared at me for a minute as though expecting me to laugh. I didn’t. So he did. Again.
