Ah, Celeste Scott. My teachingbuddy, as Mrs. Benson, the headmistress, referred to her.Perhaps wow is her word of the day. I mentally scold myself for being such a miserable bitch.
I’m in a situation entirely of my own making. I have no one to blame but myself. Taking a deep breath, I force my smile to reach my eyes.
“Thank you so much, just what I need.” I hold my hand out. “It’s great to meet you. I’m Sophie.”
Sophie MacIntosh. Former Valentine Prep pupil. Master fucker-upper.
But she knocks my hand out of the way and yanks me into a hug. “None of that. We’re a team now.”
“Ooh, okay,” I barely manage to squeak out as she squeezes me, and to my surprise, I find myself laughing. It’s easier than crying, I guess.
“And honestly, you being here is saving me, big time. Running two classes last term was hard work.” She rolls her eyes. I can’t tell whether it’s overly dramatic or if that’s just who Celeste is. “And I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but Dave really left us in the S. H. I. T.” She mouths each letter she spells out.
The news is enough to shake me out of my funk. “Hedied?”
She shakes her head, throwing it back with a laugh she digs from deep in her diaphragm. “No. But he’ll wish he did if I ever get my hands on him.”
My shoulders slump. Not because I’m disappointed he’s not dead, but I was expecting a better story. “What happened?”
“Decided teaching wasn’t for him and just didn’t come in one day. Left on a round-the-world trip with a girl he’d met on Tinder the month before.”
My mouth drops, because I get the impression that’s the reaction Celeste is after. I don’t share that I once pulled a similar stunt because the less I think about that, the less my stomach feels like it’s shredding itself from the inside out.
Instead, I borrow her word of the day. “Wow.”
“I know.” Her lips purse. “Anyway, aside from saying hello, I came to bring you this. It was left on my desk, but it’s for you.”
She pulls a clear blue folder from under her arm and waves it. I stare at it, then gingerly ease it from her fingers. I double down on every single prayer I’ve ever said, which admittedly isn’t many, but the cause of seventy-five percent of my anxiety is inside that folder.
Come to think of it, it might be closer to ninety, and I really want it to go away.
“Thanks, I was wondering if I was going to get this.”
“Yes, just the curriculum for the term and your class list.” She grins, not noticing how my entire body has stiffened. “Sorry, you should have had it yesterday.”
I pull out the top sheet where sixteen names are written in alphabetical order. Checking it twice, I let out a sigh of relief that feels more like an exorcism because I don’t see any name I recognize. God is clearly sweeter on me than I originally thought.
For one blissful second, I think this might all turn out okay.
But Celeste is peering over my shoulder. “Oh, fudge. That’s not yours. Sorry . . .” With a giggle, she snatches up the folder and rushes out the door, returning thirty seconds later waving another clear blue folder. “This one’s for you.”
The churning in my stomach starts up again, andfor the second time, I pull out a list of names. This time, I don’t need to scan down it because it’s right there at the top.
Maxwell Angus William Burlington.
This was a mistake. I shouldn’t be here. I can’t do it.
If I let out a groan, Celeste doesn’t seem to notice because she’s pulled a pen from her pocket and is placing a red dot next to a couple of the names.
“Watch out for the parents of these ones. They’re difficult. Constantly complaining about something,” she tuts. “Spend their entire life on the phone, then wonder why their child is acting out at home. Nothing you ever do is right?—”
I nod silently. But she’s not done.
“And this one likes to eat crayons . . . this one’s mum is having an affair with this one’s dad . . .” She sucks in her cheek and peers around to check no one’s listening even though we’re in a classroom by ourselves. “I realize I’m being terribly indiscreet on your first day, but”—she taps against the name I don’t want to look at—“his dad . . . well, you’ll find out for yourself.”
Celeste fans herself while I’m wondering where the bin is so I can throw up.
“A glimpse of him every morning is a really great start to the day.” She giggles.
