As a finishing touch, because I try to think of everything, we place a lighter by the first candle in the door. This way, Sayla and Dex can deal with the candles when they get home.
We’re not about to leave unattended candles burning. Although setting the house on fire feels kind of on brand for me right now.
I stand back to survey the effect. “Perfect,” I say, giving Bridger a high five. Honestly? I’m proud of us. But I’m also exhausted in a way sleep can’t fix. So I lean against the wall and let out a tiny, barely there, hardly noticeable sigh.
Bridger notices.
“You all right?” He ducks to meet my gaze, his dark hair falling over his forehead.
“Mm-hmm.”
“You sure?”
If he knew how fragile I actually feel, he’d insist on keeping me company all night. SoIkeep the focus on the happy couple. “I was just thinking about how beautiful Sayla looked on her wedding day. Like, statistically impossible levels of beauty. No other bride will ever match her.”
Bridger shrugs.
“What?” I blink. “You don’t agree?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Your face did.”
“No, no, Sayla was definitely beautiful.” He lifts his palms. “But you’re the one who threw in statistical impossibilities.”His lip twitches. “And as a scientist, I don’t think anyone can objectively quantify?—”
My phone starts buzzing again. A call this time, not a text. Another leap of my heart.
Please don't be Dad news.
“Hold that thought, Bill Nye,” I interrupt. When I check my phone, Larry Wilford’s contact scrolls across my screen. I flash it at Bridger so he knows our principal is trying to reach me.
On a Sunday evening.
Weird.
“Hey, boss!” I greet him brightly, even as my insides twinge. “What’s up?”
“Loren, hello,” he booms. “How are you?”
“Pretty good.” I chuckle. “Ready to enjoy my one week off between summer school sessions.”
“Yes, well, about that,” he hedges. “I have an update, and I wanted to tell you as soon as possible.”
“Uh. That sounds ominous.” A nervous laugh trills out of me. “Is my next class going to be super packed or something?”
“The opposite.” He clears his throat. “Our enrollment numbers are down across all grades. Fewer failures last spring. Which means the English teachers were exceptionally effective. So hats off to your department.”
“Thank you. I do love a good hat removal.” I glance at Bridger and grit my teeth. Awkward. “So the update is good?”
“Not entirely,” Mr. Wilford says. “You see, the district can’t justify running two English classes in the second session anymore.”
“Oh, no,” I say flatly.
But my stomach craters.
If there’s only one class, the job will go to Judy Hollis. She’s got seniority over me by one year. Twelve stupid months. I always knew the position wasn’t a guarantee. Thedistrict couldn’t even offer me a contract for the entire summer. Still, I figured the universe owed me a good turn.
I have all my lesson plans ready.