Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“Fine. Loving it here.”
I delivered my lines crisply, with no hint of deceit. In reality, though, public middle school was way different from Upper Eastside high schools. No celebrity kids, no bodyguards lurking at the back of classrooms, no designer bags or gourmet lunch options, and definitely no ten-to-one student-to-teacher ratio to brag to the alums about. Instead, I’d had six periods of thirty to forty loud, rowdy tweens in barely controlled pandemonium. In fact, I’d narrowly avoided being locked out of my classroom by a pair of twin pranksters during first period. “Such spirited students.”
“Wonderful. Did Dory leave you good notes?”
“Oh yes.” More lies. Dory Crenshaw’s notes for a substitute included video recommendations out of the 1950s, suggestions for classes no longer offered, information pertinent to the school’s prior building, and very few real resources for the next two months. Naturally, the woman couldn’t have predicted emergency hip surgery following a fall doing the Halloween Hula at the school event, but Dory sure could have left more help.
“Feel free to put your own spin on the classes,” Principal Alana chirped. “I’m excited for some new material.”
From what I understood, Dory Crenshaw had been around since the fine arts-focused middle school achieved charter status in the nineties. Principal Alana was an alumnus of one of those early classes who’d shot up the teaching ranks to become principal of her old school. I liked her fresh ideas and enthusiasm because Dory’s musical selections desperately needed to leave the stand-still-and-sing generation behind.
However, not everyone shared Principal Alana’s desire to bring in new ideas.
“What do you mean we’re not doing Holly Holliday’s Holiday Surprise?” Belinda Masters had likely taught math longer than I’d been alive, and from her stony expression, she also hadn’t smiled in nearly that long. “Parents look forward to that every year.”
“Emphasis on every year, Belinda.” Principal Alana released a long-suffering sigh. “Dory created that script thirty years ago, and it’s barely been updated.”
“That’s the charm.” Belinda gave a haughty sniff. With her long gray braid and pressed khaki shorts, she looked ready to lead an excursion for an Oahu bird-watching club, not unruly middle schoolers needing long-division help. “And what’s this I hear about food trucks?”
“The festival needs to grow.” The principal spread her palms wide. “We need the festival to be a big fundraiser for us this year. With budget cuts, we need the Lights Festival to fund spring field trips and cultural speakers. A fresh production, new sets, and, yes, new food options mean more tickets sold. The kids are counting on us.”
“Trying something new isn’t a terrible idea.” Ken Kekoa was a round, affable fellow around fifty who gave off lounge singer vibes but was actually a well-regarded art teacher my nieces adored.
“Thank you, Ken. I appreciate the open mind.” Principal Alana graced him with a wide smile, revealing her perfectly straight teeth. “I know Nolan and Merry—”
“Sorry, I’m late.” A dude who had possibly wandered in from the nearest beach rushed into the room to take the open chair next to Principal Alana. Sandy-blond hair a good year past a trim, scruffy stubble, faded surfer board shorts, and a paint-stained T-shirt added to his haphazard vibe. “Did I hear my name?”
“You did.” Principal Alana beamed while I inwardly groaned. Like any good actor, though, I schooled my expression as she made introductions. “Merrick Winters, meet Nolan Bell. He’ll be in charge of this year’s holiday production for the Lights Festival. You’ll still handle all the lights and sets, of course.”
“Of course.” Merrick “Merry” Winters was neither British nor elderly nor a lady. And with a voice drier than week-old sand in a bucket, he clearly wasn’t thrilled about working with me.
“Like I was telling Ken, we’ll all need to work together.” Principal Alana either hadn’t picked up on Merry’s hostile glare or had decided to plunge ahead in her usual fearless style. She smiled encouragingly at Merry. “I know you and Nolan will appreciate the help from the students, and you’ll be the perfect right-hand man for Nolan in coordinating everything.”
“Uh-huh.” Merry sounded far from convinced as he leaned back in his ancient plastic chair, which let out an ominous creak.
“Just tell me what you need painted.” Ken motioned at Merry and me. “But I’m going to leave the festival details to you two. I’ve got to run to my second job.”
“Ken works evenings as a host at a popular resort restaurant,” Principal Alana explained. “Budget cuts state-wide and rising housing prices mean more and more of us working second and third jobs. They’ve got two in college and one in high school. It’s hard to make it as a two-teacher family these days.”
“Or as a struggling actor.” My voice was bright, but Merry remained anything but as he glowered at me.
“I’m sure. You’re the Bell sisters’ uncle from New York?” His brown eyes peered sharply into mine. “The famous Broadway dude?”