as the sheep ran by again, the older students in hot pursuit.
“They like to watch,” Bertie explained, before cupping her hand to her mouth and yelling at Claire’s students, “Just get them into Echetto’s front yard. He can put them away when he gets back.”
Claire was impressed by the way the kids worked in unison to gather the sheep and herd them off the play field, onto the road and then halfway down the block to the house that apparently belonged to Echetto, whoever he was. Ashley and Toni hung toward the rear, but when a couple of ewes made a break for it, they expertly chased them back into the flock. A few minutes later all the kids returned, filed past Claire into the school and took their seats. They’d been smiling while they were outside, but the older ones were once again stony faced—except when they looked at each other.
“Well, this is a first,” Claire said. “We don’t have many sheep emergencies in Las Vegas.”
No one smiled back. In fact, they were making a real effort to make her feel stupid for trying to talk to them like people. “Are you always this rude?” she asked softly.
The younger kids glanced down. The older ones continued to stare at her.
“We can work on manners,” she added.
No response, although she noticed the younger kids were now watching the older students, looking for cues.
“This morning I’m going to have you take placement tests, so I can plan the English and math curriculums. Then, after break, we’ll do a writing activity. I need you to clear your desks and we’ll get going on the tests right now, while you’re fresh.”
The older kids grudgingly shoved notebooks into their desks, a couple of them muttering under their breath.
The rest of the day passed so slowly and dismally that Claire was beginning to wish the sheep would escape again. She knew the younger ones were not on board with the older ones—yet. But they were watching and learning.
She had to do something. Fast. The headache that had begun shortly after the sheep roundup was approaching migraine status by now.
“I have a list of supplies I’d like you to have within the next week,” she announced just before afternoon recess.
Ashley raised her hand and Claire nodded at her. “What about the kids who can’t afford supplies?”
A reasonable question, and one that might have denoted concern for those with financial limitations—if it hadn’t been for the girl’s condescending tone. Ashley, with her salon-streaked hair, Abercrombie T-shirt and Guess jeans, was obviously not going to have difficulty buying five dollars’ worth of supplies. And then, as if to make it perfectly clear that she was establishing her own status, she glanced pointedly over at one of the fifth graders, a rather shabbily dressed boy named Jesse.
Claire looked Ashley straight in the eye. “If you have trouble affording supplies, please see me in private.”
The girl flushed. “I wasn’t talking about myself,” she snapped.
“Well, it is kind of you to be concerned about others,” Claire interjected, before the girl could name names. “If any of you do not have the opportunity to buy supplies, we’ll work something out. Please see me.” She smiled at Ashley. “Does that answer your question?”
The girl did not bother to reply. Claire decided to fight the politeness battle later. She noticed a couple of the younger kids trying not to smile. Apparently they appreciated Ashley getting hers, and Claire made a mental note to find out more about the girl and her family.
The last two hours of the day passed without incident, although it became apparent by then that Ashley held a grudge and owned a cell phone. Ashley’s mother arrived just before school ended. She waited in the hall outside the classroom, marching up to Claire as soon as the room had emptied of students.
“Miss Flynn. I’m Ashley’s mother. Deirdre Landau.”
Claire could see the resemblance in both features and clothes. In fact, the mother was dressed almost exactly like the daughter, in pricey jeans and T-shirt, with expensive hair in a make-believe color. Claire was in no position to comment on make-believe hair colors, since she was a little blonder than nature had ever intended, so she overlooked that detail.
“You embarrassed Ashley today.”
“I apologize for that,” Claire said honestly. And she was sorry. She wished the incident had never happened, but she wasn’t going to let Ashley humiliate a defenseless fifth grader, either.
There was a silence.
“That’s it?” Deirdre finally asked.
“What more would you like?” Claire asked reasonably.
The woman’s mouth worked as she fought for words. She’d received an apology. Readily and sincerely. And that was the problem. She’d wanted Claire to grovel. Or protest. Or, at the very least, put up a struggle. She tried again.
“A promise not to do it again.”
“Fine. As long as Ashley understands that I will not tolerate an intentional attempt to hurt another student’s feelings.”
Deirdre looked shocked. “Ashley would do no such thing.”
“Then perhaps I misread the situation,” Claire said in an agreeable tone. “So the next time it happens, I’ll just give you a call and you can come to the school and we’ll discuss it while it’s fresh in everyone’s mind.”
“I would welcome that.”
“Great, because I believe that communication among parents, students and teachers is imperative in an educational situation.”
Deirdre blinked. “And I want you to apologize to Ashley in front of the class. After all, she was embarrassed in front of the class.”
“Sure.” Again, Claire did not hesitate in her response, and it seemed to confuse Deirdre. She frowned suspiciously.
“Tomorrow.”
“First thing.”
“All right.” It was obvious the woman didn’t trust Claire’s easy acquiescence. “Ashley’s waiting. I need to be going.”
Claire refrained from saying “See you soon,” even though she had a feeling it wouldn’t be long before she and Ashley’s mom were face-to-face again.
Claire called Regan that night. “What do you do when you’re teaching the undead?” she asked as soon as her sister answered the phone.
“Excuse me?”
“Zombies. My older kids behave like zombies, except for when they’re herding sheep or sniping at me.”
“Echetto’s sheep got out again?”
“This is common?”
“Couple times a year.”
“Sheep I can live with, but these older kids are mean, Reg. I thought I’d
