Page 27 of Bad to the Bone

Packing always sucks. Trying to figure out which parts of your life are meaningful enough to haul across the country is supposed to be cathartic. This is where you get to get rid of all of the baggage, literally and figuratively, and open yourself up to the future. I think I read that last bit in a magazine. Or maybe I saw it on O Network.

Fuck it.

It all sounds like bullshit to me now.

Our illustrious Mayor Turner has been true to his words, allowing me to take the rest of the semester off and even giving me glowing recommendations as I seek a new position. I suspect that last part was Zayne’s doing. It would be nothing for him to type up a recommendation letter, print it on his father’s official stationary, and forge the signature.

I might be overthinking it, but the thought is comforting at least.

Since he kept to his part of the bargain, I am keeping to mine. No more hot sex with boys who are barely legal. I think I learned my lesson.

Lesson learned.

No more bad boys. No more boys at all.

That’s what I tell myself every time he crosses my mind, which is nearly a hundred times a day. I tell myself that the ache in the pit of my stomach is from stress. Maybe an ulcer. I tell myself that it’s not my feelings that are hurt. It’s my pride. I was bested by a shitty old man, and I’m mad about it. I tell myself all the things that should make picking up and leaving town easier.

It doesn’t work.

“Aunt Kim, you got a package! It’s a thick one too,” Shannon says, bursting in the front door. She holds the heavy manila envelope out for me.

“This feels like deja vu. Didn’t we just do this last week?”

“Yeah,” she smiles sheepishly, recalling her acceptance letters from her top three college picks. They all arrived on the same day and were a much needed ray of sunshine in an otherwise abysmal series of events.

“You deserve it, sweetie,” I say, kissing her forehead and taking the package from her. The crest on the package is from one of the dozens of schools that I have interviewed with. They all begin to blur in my mind after a while, but this one stood out. It’s a private school with a twist. None of the students pay tuition. In fact, none of them can afford to pay tuition, even if they wanted to.

Haven Academy is one of those “last ditch effort” schools where a blend of tough love, discipline, and creative teaching are saving kids who would otherwise be chewed up and spit out by the system. The money is good, but more importantly, I can do some real good there. After two years of putting spoiled villagers through their paces, I am ready to make a difference in a place where it might actually be appreciated.

“SO, open it,” Shannon shrieks, bouncing on her toes with anticipation.

I take a deep breath and peel open the envelope meticulous.

“I can’t look, you do it,” I push the envelope at her chest and shut my eyes tight.

“You’re such a baby sometimes, Aunt Kim.” She pulls the letter out of the envelope and clears her throat. “Dear Ms. Macmillian, after careful consideration, we would like to…”

Her voice drifts off as she reads the following paragraph silently. I open my eyes and watch her face as her lips move while she reads to herself.

“Inform me of what? WHAT?”

“Well Aunt Kim,” the somber look on her face makes my heart stop in my chest. “It looks like they don’t need you in their classrooms.”

Where the hell did all the oxygen in the room fly off to?

“Oh,” I gasp.

“They want you full time as a program coordinator,” she says, shoving the paper in my face, beaming from ear to ear.

“What? Is that more money?”

“That’s more everything!”

I skim the page in my hand, trying to let reality set in. Relief and something that doesn’t quite qualify as happiness fill my chest.

“Congrats Aunt Kim.” Shannon throws her arm around my shoulder and gives me a quick squeeze. I take the package from her and review the handbook and contract that they sent me. I have five business days to respond. It won’t take that long. I’m in.

“This is gonna be great for us,” I say, reassuring us both.

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