43
Warning
Jessie
“And what makes a square different from—” I paused my lesson to glance at my phone. It hadn’t stopped buzzing for the last five minutes. And no matter how much I ignored it, it continued to go off again and again and again.
“A square,” I said again, trying to find my train of thought as I flipped the phone around to see the screen. “What makes it different from all the other shapes? What properties are unique to the square? Take half a minute and think about it before I call on someone to answer.” While they worked, I glanced down at my phone.
Another tornado watch. That was at least the fifth one today. This time I slipped the phone into my pocket so I could feel the buzz in case we had an actual warning. My phone’s weather apps were usually about thirty seconds ahead of the emergency sirens outside.
“Okay, I’m going to choose—”
Before I could finish, a knock sounded on the door, followed by one of the office staff coming in.
“Hi, Mrs. Juniper,” I said, nodding at the class to repeat my greeting.
“Hello, Miss Nickleby.” She smiled her sweet cherubim smile and nodded at the class. “I’m supposed to take these ones for just a few minutes while you talk to Mr. Matthew in his office.”
That was strange, being summoned to the principal’s office during the school day. Instead of giving air to my grievances, though, I simply nodded at the class and handed Mrs. Juniper the clipboard I was holding.
“I want you to each tell your seat partner what you think makes squares unique.” I pointed to the sheet and mouthed to the secretary,triangles next, before leaving the room and making my way down the hall.
I walked quickly, my shoes making sharp clicks that echoed down the corridor as I made my way to the office, which was located in the middle of the building, near the entrance. Though I doubted I’d done anything too terrible, I couldn’t help feeling a bit like a naughty kindergartener who had been sent to the principal for breaking some cardinal rule. Only, I didn’t know which one it was.
“Jessie.” My principal, Conner Matthews, stood and greeted me as I entered his little office. Then he shut the door. “Please sit.” He indicated to one of the two worn armchairs in front of his desk.
I saw and did my best to not seem overly anxious. “So,” I said with the best smile I could muster, “how can I help you?”
He smiled. “I’ve got a conference call in ten minutes, but before I have to go, I wanted to congratulate you on the talent show last night. It was magnificent.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I also wanted to ask you about your contract.” There it was. I should have known. When I didn’t answer immediately, he spoke again. “We love having you here. I was just wondering if you’re going to sign again.”
I gave him a guilty smile. I’d been ignoring the emails, and so he’d called me here. Of course I wanted to teach again. Didn’t I?
Every time I’d considered signing that contract, my brain had screamed for me to do it. Do something. Do anything. But what was there to do? Sign or don’t sign? Go crawling back to him? Beg him to reconsider? Maybe, if I thought it might change his mind. But the space between us might as well have been dark matter, judging by the way he’d looked at me last night. I’d hurt him. And he had hurt me. My heart felt like it had been hurled against the concrete and stomped on. And I still didn’t have a clue as to what I would do even if we hadn’t stabbed each other in the back.
So why was I hesitating? It wasn’t like I would be getting married and moving any time soon.
“Jessie?” he began.
The buzzing in my phone started again, but this time, it also let out a startling wail that made both of us jump. We leaned toward the window, and he yanked the shade up.
My heart dropped into my stomach. The sky was a sickly yellow-green, and hail was beginning to pelt the window. The pellets were small, but they were also coming fast. And hard. And then the window cracked. I jumped away and then remembered the buzz in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw the most terrifying words in the world flash across the screen.
TORNADO WARNING FOR PULASKI COUNTY
I was off like a bullet to my class. Out of his room, through the office, and down the hallway. Throwing open the door, I bolted in to find my students staring at me wide-eyed from the carpet.
“Everyone,” I gasped, hating how the air had suddenly grown warm, and my skin felt clammy. We were inside, and the air conditioning was running, but I wished I could wipe away the filmy feeling that had settled on my skin. “I want you to line up in order of your numbers at the door.”
Mrs. Juniper frowned. “Is everything—”
Interrupting her was the wail of the tornado siren just outside the window. Two of my students began to cry.
“Now, everyone!” I called. “Just like we practiced!”
