This isn’t a mistake, is it?
It’s for June’s own good, I tell myself. Hell’s Bells High was where I finished high school, too, and I wish someone would’ve told Mr.Simmerton to go easy on me in English Lit until I found my bearings, which I never really did. This is me looking out for a new kid in the school in ways that some of my fellow teachers might not consider.
Especially the teachers who have lived in Hell’s Bells more or less their entire lives.
Which is basically most of the rest of them. And same for the students.
Not a lot of turnover in Hell’s Bells, and the high school is small. Little over a hundred kids total most years. Some oil magnate donated the building to the town decades ago. If they hadn’t, our kids would be busing to a county school about twenty miles away every day. We make it work, doing our best to balance our limits with meeting each of the kids where they are.
And it looks like June will be in regular junior-level courses for the rest of her schedule.
Which means now I’m wondering if Maisey pulled her back a level in everything else to ease with the transition and she should’ve been advanced everywhere. Or if advanced math is wrong. Or why I’mgetting involved in this at all when June Spencer willnotbe one of the kids coming to me for help if she struggles with anything.
Not if I won’t let her on the soccer team.
I’m scrubbing my face to cover a sigh of frustration when I catch another hint of motion in my doorway.
She’s back.
The blue-dress woman is back, and this time, she’s not walking away.
This time, she’s stopped right there in my doorway, smiling brightly at me.
“There you are! I completely misheard Mrs.Vincent in the office and thought she said to lookleftat the end of the hallway, notright. Is this your classroom? Iadorethat poster of Einstein. Not that that should dissuade you from leaving it up. I’m sure the teenagers will love it too. Who doesn’t love a genius sticking his tongue out?”
My jaw has gone slack, and I cannot find the muscles to pick it up off the ground.
This is not Maisey Spencer.
It’s not.
Itcan’tbe.
For one, she’s in a dress.
Showing the tiniest hint of cleavage.
And curvy, shapely legs.
Jesus.
Who knew she was hiding knockout calves and adorable knees under those jeans?
And her hair.
Her hair.
For the love of all that’s holy, someone please tell me she didn’t give herself an entire makeover that’s left her as a total bombshell.
She has small diamond studs in her earlobes, pink lipstick decorating her Cupid’s bow lips, and she’s done something with her eyes to make them pop.
Suspicious?
No.
I’m about seven levels past that.
Worse, though?
