From how she behaved on my first day with her, I assumed she’d be far more hands-on in her claim, but after we returned from Heaven’s Bar, she excused herself and began ignoring me. She barely looked at me when we were in the same room. I was spending all my time either working for Alan or in my room.
“Good morning,” I greeted in return.
He stood up from his desk and walked around the front, waving me into his office.
“I’ve got some news, a bit of good, a bit of bad, like most things,” he said as he walked to a tall, stacked metal filing cabinet.
“Sounds interesting,” I said.
It didn’t.
I hated when people prefaced anything surprising in such a way. I could already feel the anxiety turning my stomach.
He rummaged through the top filing cabinet until he produced a sheet. He turned triumphantly to me and handed me what he had found.
“I’ll get you a pen,” he said as I read over the paper.
“Performance Evaluation?” I asked, reading the title and the grid underneath with generic tasks, score, and comment boxes.
“You’re not going to be working alone today; that’s the good bit. The bad bit is that you’re not going to be working alone today,” he told me and laughed at his own joke.
“Really helpful there, Al,” I deadpanned. It made him smile harder.
“Sometimes, Pat—Patricia, she’s the Education councillor—sends me a young miscreant to set right,” he told me.
“Miscreant?” I asked.
“A young adult who’s wandered off the path,” he answered.
“What path?” I asked, trying not to sound exasperated. It was too early for riddles.
“If the kids do something wrong, not criminal wrong, but close enough to be a concern, they have to complete community service. To learn their lesson,” he explained.
“Okay,” I said, taking the pen he handed me and folding the sheet, putting it with the pen into the pocket of the cleaning apron I wore.
It was far from stylish, pale green and white.
“Are you trying to tell me I’m going to be working with an angsty teenager?” I asked.
“You’re going to be supervising them,” he said, really emphasising the supervising part.
“Why does this seem to make you so happy?” I asked warily; it was becoming worrying, his cheerfulness.
“Because this young madam has been getting away with murder for years!” he answered.
“Murder?” I asked.
“Close enough,” he answered.
“What has she done that’s landed her here on a Saturday morning?” I asked.
“She got caught cheating on a test, and then it transpired she had been bullying two other students to complete homework, coursework, and help her cheat,” he told me, like she was some criminal mastermind.
“And cleaning the Pack House is her punishment,” I said. It made sense; Sandstorm were very community-oriented.
“Working under you is her punishment,” he corrected me.
“Me?” I asked.
