Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“Winslet!” a familiar male voice called out, and I fought back my groan.
This man was relentless, I swore. Pasting a smile on my face, I turned to face him instead of climbing into my car and cranking up the air conditioner like I desperately wanted to.
“Hey,” I replied as Toby slowed to a jog once he got close to me.
The man had been running in an attempt to stop me. He was a nice guy—really, he was—but there was no interest there for me. Nada. Not even a tiny inkling.
“Hey,” he said, breathing hard and smiling brightly. “I wanted to catch you before you left. The church has the Corn Husk Festival this weekend,” he told me, which I knew.
When he said church, he meant the Baptist church that owned the school we worked at. When they had an event, the entire school was reminded over the intercom daily, papers were sent home in the kids’ binders at least three times that week, and teachers were told via email to mention it to the kids every day before they left to go home in hopes they’d beg their parents to attend.
I nodded my head, struggling with that plastered-on smile I was holding.
It’s hot, Toby. Get on with it.
“Yeah, of course you know.” He chuckled, looking amused. “I was just wondering if you wanted to go. With me,” he added the last part, as if I needed clarification.
All teachers were expected to attend. It was one of those mandatory things. I was hot, tired, and wanted to stop peopling for the day. Coming up with a reason why I could not go with him was proving difficult. He knew I was going. I had no other person to claim I was going with. My thoughts briefly went to Perry, who I would have forced to go with me in the past, but seeing as he was in federal prison, I no longer had that option.
“Uh, sure,” I replied, feeling as if I had finally caved from his determination.
He beamed at me, and I felt slightly guilty. He was nice. It wouldn’t hurt me to spend the day with him. He wasn’t ugly or annoying. I didn’t have to kiss him or anything. I hoped he didn’t try and hold hands and make it weird.
“Great,” he said, sounding surprised. “I’ll pick you up at nine? That sound good?”
The earlier we went, the earlier it was over.
“Sure.”
“Yay,” he said, nodding and grinning so big that it was verging on goofy.
He needed to rein it in a touch.
“Well, I need to go. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I told him before moving to get into the driver’s seat of my car.
“See you then!” he said with a wave.
I closed my door and returned the wave with a weak smile. Turning on the car, I got the air on and sighed as it hit my face. Tomorrow, I could use that as my chance to turn Toby’s attention to Mary Beth, the fourth-grade teacher who had a major crush on him, which he seemed oblivious to. It would be nice to not feel as if I had to dodge him regularly.
Driving out of the parking lot, I had to wave three more times. First at Betty Joyce, the front-office secretary, who was going to get fired as soon as the board found out she was headed to divorce court because the baby she was pregnant with was not her husband’s. He’d found some naughty texts and demanded a paternity test. Yep. That piece of information she’d decided to share with me two weeks ago, when I walked in on her crying in the teachers’ bathroom.
Holly, who taught first grade, was next. She was standing at Toby’s Mustang, waiting on him, I realized when I waved back at her. She was twenty-eight and unmarried. I’d thought she was dating someone though. Wondered if they’d broken up. Not that I cared.
Then, just before I pulled out onto the street was Dill. He taught middle-school PE and had been married for ten years, although he was only twenty-seven. Knocked his girlfriend up in high school, and seeing as she was the preacher’s daughter, they had gotten married right away. Now, she stayed home with their one-year-old while their nine-, seven-, and four-year-olds all attended MCS. I had Peppy—nickname for Pepper—the seven-year-old in my class this year. I told myself that was why Dill had been going out of his way to talk to me and showing up many times a day in places he had no real reason to be. Like the door of my room during my planning period.
In my first month last year, I’d found that the teachers loved to gossip, and there was little they didn’t know. When school had started last month, Perry had been held in custody until his trial. He got a plea bargain and cut his ten-year sentence to eight—or six and a half on good behavior. Although I didn’t talk about my life with any of my coworkers, nor were any my friends per se, I had feared they’d all know about it somehow. That I would be the one they talked about at the copy machine.