Martina pulled a face. “The side piece?”
“Perfect for you,” Lindsey said.
Snickers erupted.
“Sounds like a social media post to me,” I said.
Martina looked intrigued.
Chaos. But creative chaos. Until the closing bell shrilled. The students launched like birds from a field.
“Okay, you’ve all made a great start,” I said. “Please pull your desks—”
Furniture scraped and bumped. Students scrambled for the door. It opened, and Sarah stuck her head through.
I winced. “Sorry about the noise.”
She waved my apology away. “Jim wants to see you.” Jim Curtis, the principal.
“Oooh, Miss G., are you in trouble?” a student sang out.
I felt a burst of something almost like nostalgia. Because of course I had been called to the principal’s office before, years ago. For talking in class. For liberating the snake fromthe classroom terrarium. For bouncing a book off Tyler Kelly’s head after he made Daanis cry.
“Not recently,” I said cheerfully. I lowered my voice under the cacophony of students emptying into the hall. “Do you know why?” I asked Sarah.
“I’ve learned not to ask why the administration does anything.”
“Maybe Jim wants to offer his sympathies?” I said. “On behalf of the school.”
She pressed her lips together. “Maybe.”
Something wasn’t right. “I got your flowers,” I said. A bouquet of cellophane-wrapped kindness on my desk to welcome me back. “Thanks.”
“We took up a collection. The whole department.”
“Well, they’re beautiful. I…” Behind her, I saw Colin Quinn ducking for the door. “Colin!”
He stopped as if I’d shot him.
“Everything okay?” I asked gently.
He jerked one shoulder.Yes? No?“Yeah.” He raised his head, not quite meeting my eyes. “Sorry.”
I stared after him, troubled. Colin was one of the outcasts, a sweet, quiet boy with an overbearing father. He stayed after class sometimes, to wipe down the board or do his homework.
“I worry about him,” I confided to Sarah when he was gone. Seeking her advice, craving her approval, as if I were still a rookie in her classroom. Sarah, in her mid-thirties, sailed through the halls of Ravenscrest like a swan. Maybe, underneath the surface, she was paddling as furiously as I was, but you would never guess it from her calm demeanor. I wanted to be her when I grew up.
“Which is why you are such a good teacher,” she said. “But right now, you should focus on yourself.”
“Why’s that?”
She looked down, inspecting her pale pink manicure.
“Sarah?”
“You’ll have to speak to Jim.” She paused, as if debating with herself how much more to say. “There might have been a question raised about a book you gave one of your students.”
“The manga book?”
