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Licking her lips, her friend sat up straight. “Thanks! I thought so.” She polished off the rest of the tart.

Georgie nodded, but something still gnawed away at her. As feasible as Eden’s argument was, egos were tangled up in this, too, and like in hockey, some grievances didn’t simply die down with time or geographical distance. They’d continue to fester, waiting for the next opportunity to pounce and wreak havoc.

Especially when the self-professed aggrieved party was a hot-headed loudmouth like Brian Sawyer.

“But…once Brian’s home, he’d be straight in there, blowing a fuse,” said Georgie.

“Oh for sure, but any fuss he kicks up will look unprofessional. Ultimately, what’s he gonna do? Refuse to tutor? Drop out of chaperoning the next dance?” Eden shrugged. “Big whoop. He does that now.”

Georgie scooped up the rolls of undeveloped film and returned them to her tote bag. “He could still be getting both, though. The best way for Laporte to avoid a fight is to give Bri the trip and the promotion.”

“But he won’t. He can’t!” said Eden. “Everyone knows Bri doesn’t deserve it. Laporte might revel in all the perks Houdini brings to the table, but I doubt he’d risk his reputation with the board, promoting him over you.”

“Professional rep triumphs over schmoozy friendship. Miracles DO happen, I guess.”

“I know! Who’d have thunk it?” Eden smiled. “Our principal, the man who can’t always be bought.” She gestured to herself. “So am I good or am I GOOD?”

“You’re the best,” Georgie replied warmly. “But please tell me you didn’t stew about this the entire long weekend? I hope you had some fun.”

“If you call getting lost in a spider-infested corn maze fun.”

“Ew, not really, but my frogs would definitely call that dinner,” said Georgie.

Eden shivered. “I don’t know how you even—” She waved a hand. “Anyway, we made up for it with apple picking and a museum visit. I didn’t spot your Oliver, though. I hope they didn’t fire him for his dull presentations.”

They wouldn’t, would they? Guilt twisted deep in Georgie’s stomach. She shifted in her chair. “I doubt he’d be working the holiday weekend.”

Eden’s face softened. “But if he had nowhere else to go…”

That was exactly what Georgie had feared. She really needed to stop thinking about the handsome Egyptologist she’d met once. “He must have work friends by now.”

“You’d think,” said Eden. “Unless the nice guy thing is an act and he’s actually a suck-up like you-know-who.”

“While we’re on the subject”—Georgie pushed back her chair—“I need to go speak with you-know-who’s best buddy. Your Vimy theory is awesome, but I need the truth from the horse’s mouth.” Standing up, she gave the hem of her blazer a defiant downward tug.

Eden’s throat bobbed. “Wait, you’re going now⁠—?”

A sixteen-year-old girl burst through the door and abruptly stopped, her deer-in-the-headlights gape skittering between the two teachers. “Oh! Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

Georgie waved her in. “It’s okay. Come in.”

Lips curving, the student rushed toward the built-in cupboard in the corner and flung open its doors, helping herself to a plastic-wrapped pad and two tampons. Georgie kept a supply on hand for her students to take freely, no questions asked. Hiding the products between a thick textbook and a copy of Coles Notes for Lord of the Flies, the teen mumbled a “Thank you” and scurried out the door.

“I love that you do that,” said Eden.

“We’ve all been there, right? Period’s early and we’re caught short.”

Rolling open the top drawer to Georgie’s desk, Eden stole a Halloween-sized Coffee Crisp bar. “Happened to me in Grade 9 geography. I had to tie my jean jacket around my waist mid-test and pray no one figured out why.”

“Was Grade 8 physics for me,” said Georgie. “I was wearing white painter pants.”

Eden’s brows scrunched. “Nooo! That’s like a tampon commercial gone wr⁠—”

“Georgina?” Laporte’s secretary leaned around the doorjamb. “He’s ready to see you.”

* * *

“So!” Laporte swiveled his high-backed leather chair. “Your Leafs are tanking already, huh?”