My job status is the only question mark on my life right now, but this interview is going to solve that.
I’m still grinning wide as I park my car and enter the quiet building where the offices are for the higher ups in the district.
Even as the receptionist doesn’t smile back.
Even as the air pressure drops when I walk into the meeting room.
And even as I take in the five rigid faces frowning down at me. Two of them I don’t recognize, but the ones I do turn my blood to ice.
They sit behind a long table on the dais, raised just high enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet their stern eyes. There’s a single metal folding chair in the middle of the room, facing them.
Suddenly, I’m back at Everett Academy, called in to speak to the board after rumors started spreading.
How could I have been so stupid? I was so sure, so absolutely certain, this was just a formality. Even right now, a shadow of that grin lingers, though my brain screams,ABORT! ABORT!
I want to cringe at how I practically skipped into the building, so confident, just a minute ago. This is no interview. Did the woman on the phone yesterday even use that word? My mind races, trying to remember.
No one speaks. The only sound in the room is the second-hand ticking on the clock to my right. Heart thudding, I take in all the faces. A rock sinks into my stomach when I realize who three of them are.
Mrs. Beaufort.
Judge Beaufort.
Ted Strong, the ex-mayor and Sawyer’s dad.
I know from Sawyer this countyoperates differently than anywhere I’ve worked before. The schools here are run under the oversight of a small committee, a rotating group of so-called “pillars of the community.” I hoped for volunteers like Sadge Brown, the former principal, and Justin Clarke, an ex-EMT. General do-gooders who want what’s best for the town. But this? This is my worst nightmare coming to life.
Mr. Strong doesn’t deign to look at me when he says, “Do you know why we called you here, Ms. Casey?”
What did Geri say when she called? I skim the contents of my memory.
I wipe my palms on my skirt, swallowing the tight knot in my throat. “I’m here regarding my employment status.”
Mrs. Beaufort puckers her lips in distaste.
“Very good,” Mr. Strong says indulgently, like I’m a very slow, very dumb child.
The woman I don’t recognize, Geri Belinger probably, speaks next. “I called you in today for a formal . . . review. Take a seat.”
Itchy, burning shame rises, like I’ve just been caught cheating on a test. This is exactly how it felt at Everett Academy.
I step forward and do what I’m told, just like I did last time.
The metal is cold through the fabric of my suit.
“Ms. Casey,” Judge Beaufort begins. I crane my neck to meet his eyes. “I see you applied for this position back at the end of December, and have filled the role as substitute for the same class since January. How long have you been a teacher?”
Okay. So far so good. I can answer this.
I open my mouth, but Mrs. Beaufort cuts in before I can speak.
“This seems to be a pattern for you, does it not, Ms. Casey?”
“A pattern?” I squeak.
“Entangling professional responsibilities with personal . . . desires.” She hisses the last word like it’s dirty.
I blanch. She might as well have asked, “How long have you been whoring?”
