Saylor

His scent lingers in the room as the door closes behind him. My forehead scrunches before I reach for the disinfectant spray, praying the strong scent of cleaning chemicals will be able to wipe away his mouth-watering smell, along with the memories that accompany it.

A few seconds later, the door squeaks open, and my neck snaps up to find Principal Wells leaning against the doorjamb. His white button-up shirt looks close to bursting across his beer belly that would make him the perfect candidate for a mall Santa. All he’s missing is a jolly demeanor, and I haven’t seen that side of him in years. The guy is burnt out and a stickler for the rules. The combination makes him less than jovial or patient with the students, and Turner isn’t the first student we’ve gone head-to-head over. I just hope he didn’t hear about the little fight on the playground today, or I’m screwed.

“Hello, Miss Swenson.”

“Hi, Mr. Wells,” I return with a tight smile. Heaven forbid I call him by his first name.

“Did I just see Owen Daniels leaving your room?”

“The one and only. His little boy is in my class.”

“Ah, makes sense.”

“Yup.” Pushing myself up from my seat, I reach for the disinfectant spray again and squirt it on the chair Owen had been sitting in. “Can I help you with anything?”

“I wanted to have a quick chat.”

“About?”

“About the vice-principal position.”

My heart stalls in my chest before I glance back at him. “Yes?”

“I know you’re interested in being considered for it.”

“I am yes.”

“And why do you think you’d be a good fit? You’re young––”

“Yes, I know. But I love these kids.”

“Most teachers do. They’re not exactly in it for the paycheck,” he jokes.

“Good point,” I concede with a tight smile. “I just figured that it would be better to promote someone familiar with the way Granite Elementary does things––along with our standards, our pride, all of it––than it would be to hire a stranger. My entire resume is built from this school. I even graduated from here before going on to East Heights Middle School down the block. I really think I could make a difference here. That I could be a good fit. A good partner.”

He strides closer, that same stern confidence emanating from each of his pores as he inspects the cleanliness of my room like a seasoned detective.

“You have potential, Miss Swenson. I’m not going to lie to you and say that you don’t,” he tells me. “But you are young, and your experience, while admirable, is still a little lacking compared to the other applicants. As you know, Ms. Rasmussen won’t be retiring until next year, so there’s plenty of time to build up your resume a bit more. I would suggest you start by planning the sixth-grade Boo Bash.”

“Doesn’t one of the sixth-grade teachers normally do that? I don’t want to step on their toes––”

“They sent in their plans for approval, and they were…underwhelming. Why don’t you send me your plans in the next week or so, and we can see what you come up with?”

I open my mouth to argue before closing it just as quickly. This is a great opportunity, despite how shitty I feel that I would be completely overstepping my bounds. Thankfully, Miss Winchester is one of the nicest teachers at the school and is almost as burnt out as Ms. Rasmussen, so I don’t think she’ll mind if I take over the planning of her grade’s Halloween party. Hell, she’d probably thank me for it.

His overly-bushy brow quirks. “Is there a problem, Miss Swenson?”

“No, no problem,” I rush out. “I can definitely get that to you.”

“Perfect. If you have any questions about the budget or anything, just ask Ms. Rasmussen. She can get you the numbers.”

“Sounds good.”

“And one more thing.” He drags his thumb along a black smudge of Expo Marker on the whiteboard and rubs it between his fingers. “Mrs. Ericks recently put in her resignation.”

“But I thought she was going to come back once her maternity leave––”

“She decided a stay-at-home position was more fulfilling,” he quips. “Obviously, this has left us in a bit of a bind.”