Layla turned on the light and left the door locked so that no one could pop in on her without knocking—just in case she had another crazy bout of tears once the numbness wore off and the ramifications of having that photo posted set in.
Thankfully, no one was foolish enough to attempt to enter her room that morning, although Layla could hear people in the hall. Was Melinda one of them?
Were people talking about her?
Layla had never been the subject of gossip before and she sincerely hoped she wasn’t now, but the words fat and chance kept circling through her mind.
She ate her lunch alone at her desk, slipped out unseen twice to use the ladies’ room, then scuttled back for cover. If she could make it through today, then she’d be able to face the faculty meeting tomorrow. She just didn’t feel quite steady yet, didn’t trust herself to be able to look into Melinda’s face and smile as if she didn’t care about what had happened.
But her solitary, strength-building day ended with a call from Ella just before the final minutes of the school day ticked to an end.
“Please see me before you leave.”
“I’ll be right down.”
Layla’s stomach tightened the minute she saw the older woman’s expression. Trouble. Possibly big trouble.
“It appears we have a situation,” Ella said. “Your photo has gone viral, I believe the term is, and parents have been calling all day. Apparently several students attending the concert at the hotel saw you ‘draped’ over a man, barely able to walk, you were so intoxicated.”
“Or ill.”
“They aren’t buying it, and because of that, because of the particular parents who have been calling with concerns…to mollify…” Ella pulled in a deep breath. “We will have to resort to a temporary restructuring of classes.”
“What kind of restructuring?” Layla asked quietly, her heart hitting her ribs in slow, steady thumps. She knew the answer, could read it in Ella’s eyes. In a private school, where parents paid big dollars for their children’s education, they had more say than in a public school, and apparently the masses had spoken.
“Considering the tremendous…flak…we’ve received regarding the photo…well, you know how it is. Once a rumor takes hold, it’s very difficult to counteract it, and many of our parents are highly reactive. They spend a great deal of money to send their children here....”
Ella continued her long-winded explanation as Layla left her body and floated above the scene, watching herself stare politely at her boss, the picture of composure, while inside she was screaming, “Get on with it already! Tell me that I’m losing Advanced Placement English and taking on Life Skills. Just spit it out!”
“And for that reason…” Ella let out a sigh that made her shoulders sink “…I have no choice but to give Melinda Advanced Placement English and you will take over Life Skills for the next semester.”
Layla wasn’t fooled. She’d have the position for much longer than one semester. Life Skills—a glorified term for gonzo math and reading for those kids who could buy their way into the school, but didn’t give two hoots about grades or learning, despite their parents’ desire to make them industrial leaders. Oh, yes, she’d be at the helm until the next new teacher was hired, or another staff member made a misstep—serious enough to alarm parents but not serious enough to be fired. She could have this gig for years and years the way the budget was looking.
“I understand,” she said, ever professional. “And I’ll quit before I go back to Life Skills.”
CHAPTER THREE
THE©WORDS©STARTLED©HER as much as they did Ella.
What had she just said? Why had she said it?
Because she had truly and passionately hated teaching Life Skills during her first year at Manzanita before being moved to Advanced English when Melinda hired on. Life Skills was the baptism by fire at Manzanita, and being a starry-eyed neophyte, she’d felt guilty for not being able to inspire the lazy, entitled kids that populated the class. A teacher taught. But teaching the arrogantly unmotivated was not her cup of tea, and apparently it wasn’t Melinda’s, either.
“Don’t be silly,” Ella sputtered. “You were excellent teaching that class. I have a copy of the most recent syllabus,” she said, pushing a folder across the table toward Layla. “You can also access it online. Melinda will answer any questions you have.”
Layla was certain that Melinda would be delighted to answer all her questions.
“I know you will return the favor,” the principal added.
“This is not the solution,” Layla said adamantly. “These parents are wrong. One misrepresented incident doesn’t make me incapable of teaching as I’ve always taught.”
“It’s the most logical solution,” Ella insisted, nudging the folder closer to her. “Many of the concerned parents have children in your advanced classes. Besides—” she tapped her pencil on the folder “—Melinda just received her master’s degree in English, which makes her more qualified.”
On paper. “I have every intention of getting my master’s,” Layla said, focusing on the part of the issue that didn’t involve parents. “But I just spent the last two years revamping my English classes, which took up any time I might have used for university courses.” Class planning, prep and grading had barely left her any time for a social life, much less continued education. “And,” she added, “I won a state merit award for those revamped classes last year.” Which Melinda hadn’t. That had to eat at her.
Her boss’s expression remained impassive. No, it remained stonily stubborn, so Layla gave in to desperation and allowed herself to beg. “Please do not take these classes away from me.”
Ella stared at her for a long moment, the end of her pencil making a slow tap, tap, tap on the desk. Finally, she let out a long sigh. “Let’s meet tomorrow, after we’ve both had some time to evaluate the situation.” She drew in a long breath through her nose, then opened her calendar. “Say, nine o’clock?”
“Nine o’clock will be fine,” Layla said, relief coursing through her at the possible stay of execution. She’d be there at nine, after a good twenty-three hours of figuring out how to save herself. She’d probably look like hell from lack of sleep, since unfinished business invariably gave her insomnia, but she’d be there, and somehow she’d convince Ella to allow her to keep her classes.
USUALLY, JUSTIN©WENT©TO the catering kitchen in the evenings after Patty had prepped during the day, and worked on his cakes alone. Just him and the music. No interruptions.
He had a lot to do, especially with Patty about to take sick leave, but tonight, the tenth anniversary of signing away parental rights to his then unborn son, he stayed home. Turned on a basketball game and started drinking. Alone. Never a good thing to do, but right now it seemed appropriate.
The first few anniversaries had passed practically unnoticed. Yes, he had a child out there somewhere, one he’d been totally unprepared to care for at the age of eighteen. When his girlfriend, Rachel, had opted for adoption, it had seemed a godsend. No child
