“You have worked yourself half to death trying to save this gym project.”
She takes another bite.
The combined scent of vanilla, sugar, and chocolate is irresistible.
And I’m regretting not getting to it first.
“If anyone has a problem with that, they may come speak to me.”
Something dangerous flashes in her eyes.
Something very nun-like.
And also very mob boss-like.
Sabrina squeezes my hand beneath the table.
“I told you.”
“Told me what?”
“Never mess with Sister Agnes.”
The nun nods solemnly.
“She's correct.”
I laugh despite myself.
And for a little while?
Things don't seem so terrible.
Unfortunately, lunch ends.
Reality returns.
And by one-forty-five, my nerves are stretched thinner than kindergarten construction paper.
I'm standing in the teachers' lounge refilling my coffee mug when the door opens.
Mr. Reynolds walks in.
The new math substitute.
Tall.
Mid-forties.
Smug.
The kind of man who mistakes confidence for charm.
“Miss Donahue.”
I nod politely.
“Mr. Reynolds.”