Page 114 of See Me

“Want me to walk you out there and beat his face in?”

She sighs dramatically. “No.”

“Good girl.”

THIRTY-THREE

MISFIRE

“I can’t wear jeans,right? I mean, I’m supposed to be professional. But, then again, it’s high school. Public high school. And I have on a nice shirt, nice boots, and a scarf. That’s acceptable, right?”

Luca stands bare-chested in the kitchen, sipping coffee. He looks me up and down and smiles. “You look perfect.”

“What if the principal comes in to check on me, and I know she will, because that’s what I would do if I was in her position and I hired a brand-new grad who has never stepped foot in her own classroom before, and so she’s gonna walk in and see me in jeans and think, this girl doesn’t belong here. And thenI’m gonna be fired and I already bought all these supplies and decorated the classroom and—”

“Ella, chill.” Luca chuckles and comes around the island holding out a cup of coffee for me.

I wave him off. “I think maybe I better skip the caffeine.”

He nods and smirks. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He sets the cup down and grabs me by the shoulders. “Take a deep breath. It’s just nerves. You look fine. You’re going to be fine.”

I take a few deep breaths and blow them out slowly. “Okay. Okay. You’re right. I'm just gonna go and do it. I can do it.”

“Your bag is by the entry table. And I packed you a lunch. A healthy lunch. No ramen, no frozen burritos.”

“Great.” I roll my eyes. “Now I don’t even have MSG to comfort me. Thanks a lot.”

He laughs and points to the front door. “Go. You got this.”

“I’m glad one of us thinks so.”

I have ten minutes before the bell rings to signal first period. I came early enough to get a refresher on the building and find the lounge to put my lunch bag in. Now I’m sitting here nervously bouncing in my seat waiting for the students to trickle in. My name is written on the board, my lesson plans laid out on the desk, the attendance sheet ready with a selection of colored pens to choose from. I’m all ready and so damn close to vomiting.

The first few students arrive. I offer each a smile. A few smile back and walk down the aisle to take seats in the back of the room. There are glances and hushed whispering, super helpful in tamping down my nerves.

Within a few minutes the seats are full and the bell rings to start the day.

I stand and walk around the front of the desk and lean back on it. “Good morning, everyone.”

“That’s a really long name,” a dark-haired boy in the back says, pointing to the board where my name is written.

I smile. “It looks long but it’s really not that difficult to say. I’m Miss O’Loughlin.”

“I’d rather know your first name,” the same boy says, earning a few laughs and fist bumps from his friends.

This little punk.

Game on.

“Oh, yeah?” I walk slowly down the aisle toward him. “And what would you do with that information?”

He smiles at his buddies. “I don’t know. But we can figure something out.”

“Yeah? What kind of something?”

He swallows hard the closer I get. “You know… stuff.”

“See, usually when given the opportunity to really think about what you’re implying, and making you say it aloud in plain terms when you know how ridiculously offensive the implication is, especially to someone in a position to get you in trouble, should have given you pause. But it didn’t. Which means one of two things.”

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