I’m about to type a reply back, when Mikey taps me on the shoulder.
I flinch. “What’s wrong? Has one of the children had an accident?”
He gives me a weird look. “They’re all potty trained. They probably have been since they were three.”
Huh. Good to know. “So what is it?”
He nods toward the window. In an undertone, he tells me, “I think someone’s watching us.”
It’s a bit of a weird thing to say, and even though Mikey’s a weird dude, I glance out the window. Sure enough, there’s a little guy standing in the parking lot, taking occasional glances through the window. He’s standing in the shadow of a tree, so I can’t see his face.
What the fuck? Is some sort of pervert lurking out there?
“Leave this to me,” I tell Mikey. I might not have wanted to be a teacher, even if this gig is just two after-school sessions a week, but no one’s going to mess with my students on my watch.
He gives me a resolute nod. Jane, who has apparently been eavesdropping, says, “Remind him that he’s not supposed to be on school grounds if he has a record of sex crimes,” and I leave the room and storm out to the parking lot, ready to give the guy a talking to, or—if he seems dangerous—a face full of Mace.
But he’s gone by the time I get outside.
