Hating the Boss

by Kristen Granata

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Sammi says.

  “I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight with this weighing on my mind. Maybe he’s had some time to calm down.”

  “Or maybe he’s waiting for you to leave so he can shove you into the trunk of his car.”

  Our heads whip around to look at Kerry.

  “What?” she asks. “It happens.”

  “Girl, you need to stop watching all those Netflix documentaries,” Mary says, shaking her head.

  “We’ll wait here for you.” Andrea places her hand on my shoulder. “If anything happens, we’ll be right outside this door.”

  I salute them before walking into the main office. Jaxon’s door is closed, so I rap three times on the wood.

  “Come in,” his deep voice calls.

  I peek my head inside Jaxon’s office. He’s sitting behind stacks of papers piled high on his desk. His hair is mussed, like he ran his fingers through it countless times. His tie is loosened, top button of his shirt undone. He seems stressed. Being the principal is a job I’d never want. The politics, the responsibility, the endless workload. I’ll take the classroom over the office any day.

  As soon as Jaxon sees me, his expression hardens.

  I fiddle with the hem of my dress. “Do you have a minute?”

  He leans back in his chair and folds his hands in his lap. “Come to confess?”

  Heat pools in my chest. Stay calm, Rae. More bees with honey and all. “I was hoping you’d cooled down so we could chat like civilized human beings.” I rub my wrist as a warning. A small threat of blackmail never hurt anybody.

  His cocky façade fades. He gestures to the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”

  Point for me. I lower myself into the chair and cross my legs. “I have to ask: What happened to give you the impression that I stole something from you?”

  Anger flashes in his eyes but his voice is even when he speaks. “The night you came to my apartment, I had my grandmother’s ring in a box on my dresser.” He shifts in his seat. “She passed recently.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” I search my memory for any recollection of seeing something on his dresser. I’d left in such a hurry that morning, I didn’t stop to take inventory of his bedroom. I didn’t even stay long enough to retrieve my shoe. “I remember what your dresser looks like, but I can’t remember seeing anything on it before I left that day.”

  He smirks. “How convenient. You don’t remember.”

  Breathe. Don’t let his attitude fluster you. “Was the ring there when I got to your apartment that night?”

  “Of course it was there. I put it there.”

  “But you’re sure it was there when we came back from the bar?”

  “Where else would it be? It’s not like it could’ve gotten up and moved. Not until you swiped it and ran out.”

  My hands ball into fists. “I did not take your grandmother’s ring. You know, I couldn’t find my shoe that morning either. Maybe your ring is somewhere with my shoe. Did you check under the bed, or behind the dresser?”

  He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yes, Nancy Drew. I checked every square inch of that apartment and the ring is nowhere to be found.”

  His snarky comment reminds me of Andrew. Acid trickles into my stomach. I might’ve felt bad for the fact that this guy lost his late grandmother’s ring, but I’m done playing nice. This stops here.

  “So, you don’t know if the ring was actually there at the same time I was. You have no proof of what you’re accusing me of. And you put your hands on a staff member.” I stand and cross my arms over my chest. “Sounds like a closed case to me, Mr. Waters.”

  His nostrils flare as he pushes out of his seat. “That ring has been passed down in my family for generations. It means something to us. So I hope you can sleep at night knowing you stole something so precious from me.”

  “Like I said, I didn’t steal your grandmother’s ring. I’m sorry you lost it, but I don’t have it. So I’ll sleep very well, thanks.”

  His top lip curls as he looks me up and down. “I’m glad I didn’t end up sleeping with you. You getting sloppy drunk actually did me a favor.”

  “The feeling is mutual.” I spin on my heels but whip back around when I reach the door. “And I’d like my shoe back tomorrow.”

  “You’ll get your shoe when I get my—”

  I slam the door on my way out and whiz past the girls waiting for me in the hallway. Their flip-flops smack the floor behind me as they try to keep up with my pace.

  “What happened?”

  “Did he touch you?”

  “Does he believe you didn’t steal anything?”

  “Why does he have your shoe?”

  I push through the double doors at the main entrance and inhale the sweet scent of lingering summer air. Closing my eyes, I collect my thoughts and try to slow my rapid heartbeat.

  “He thinks I stole his grandmother’s ring. He said it was in his bedroom the night he brought me home, and that it was gone when he woke up the next morning.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Kerry says. “He obviously misplaced it and now he feels like an idiot so he’s blaming you.”

  Becca chews on her bottom lip. “This is crazy. Maybe the guy’s not right in the head.”

  “He’s too good-looking,” Andrea says. “Something was bound to be wrong with him.”

  I shrug. “I’ve said my peace. There’s nothing I can do to prove that I didn’t steal his ring.”

  “What are you going to do now?” Sammi asks.

  “First, I’m going for a run. Then, I’m going to enjoy a nice dinner with my mother.”

  “And what about Principal Fuckwad?”

  “He’s just going to have to get over it.”

  This is my school.

  Days Left Until Summer Break: 179

  Jaxon

  “Yes, Mrs. Zuckerman. I am positive it was your son who smeared feces on the bathroom walls.”

  There’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.

  “We have video surveillance of Andrew exiting the bathroom at the time of the offense. Yes, I’d appreciate it if you spoke to him about the importance of bathroom hygiene at home. Thank you. You have a wonderful day.”

  I place the receiver down and massage my scalp with my fingers.

  “The first day is always the hardest,” Beth, my secretary, calls from the main office.

  “Somehow, that doesn’t comfort me.” I step out of my office and dangle a mini Snickers bar in front of Beth’s face. “Want one?”

  She snatches it out of my hands and devours it within seconds. Not completely sure she didn’t inhale the wrapper with it.

  The most important lesson too many principals fail to learn: The secretary and custodial staff are your best allies. Spoil them and they will do anything for you.

  “I’m going to make my rounds,” I say. “I’ve got the walkie if you need me.”

  “Have fun. Show those kids who’s boss.”

  I shoot her a wink before striding into the hallway.

  Second grade is in the cafeteria eating lunch. As a kid, lunchtime is your favorite time of day. As a teacher, it’s the only time you get to go to the bathroom, check your texts, make copies, and scarf down your food. It’s the only time you get to sit and catch your breath, and it’s over in a flash.

  And if you have lunch duty? Cut that precious time in half because the other half will be spent supervising over one-hundred students in the lunchroom. That job could scare even the badass Dwayne Johnson. I’d like to see him handle a kid with a bloody nose, with another student who’s crying because he doesn’t like the turkey sandwich his mother gave him, while two other students start a food fight.

  I stick my head through the doorway and make eye-contact with the teacher on duty. “Everything okay?”

  She nods and gives me a thumbs up. Then a little boy runs up to her, pinching his fly, doing what we refer to as The Pee-Pee Danc
e.

  Why kids always wait until the last second to ask for the bathroom, I’ll never understand.

  I continue down the hall, waving to the physical education teacher and the librarian as I pass their rooms. Then I pop in to each first-grade classroom, wishing the students a great first day.

  When I turn the corner, I’m in the kindergarten hallway. My stride slows as I approach the first room.

  Raegan’s room.

  I haven’t seen Raegan since she left my office two days ago. She won’t admit to stealing my ring, and I won’t believe that she didn’t steal it. We’re at a stalemate. At this point, there’s nothing more I can do. Not until I can figure out a way to get her to confess.

  And I will get her to confess.

  I need that ring back. There’s no other option.

  Her door’s open, so I lean against the frame. The class is sitting in a circle on the rug. In a rocking chair with a crying child sitting in her lap, Raegan’s reading a story and trying to make her voice heard above the wailing student while consoling him at the same time.

  Kindergarten teachers are the toughest kind of teachers there are. They take a class of five-year-olds, most who’ve never been in school before, and transform them into responsible, respectful, well-mannered students. And while they’re teaching them how to share, and why they shouldn’t pick their noses and eat it, they also teach them how to read and write.

  Have you ever tried to teach someone the English language? It’s the hardest thing you’ll ever do.

  As if the job isn’t difficult enough, there are the occasional students who need to be evaluated for special education. The process is long, and the parents aren’t always on board. This means the teachers have to manage some pretty extreme behaviors while attempting to meet the needs of every other student in her class.

  It’s like juggling chainsaws, and someone keeps throwing you more to juggle.

  Raegan’s eyes meet mine as I enter her classroom. She’s in a yellow sundress, her golden hair cascading in loose curls down past her shoulders. She doesn’t wear heavy make-up. She doesn’t need to. The woman radiates natural beauty. My dick stirs as I recall what she looks like underneath that dress.

  Down, boy. She’s the enemy. Plus, I’m surrounded by children who wouldn’t hesitate to point out my erection.

  Raegan lays the book she’s reading face-down in her lap and smiles wide. “Class, say Good Morning to Principal Waters.”

  The class shouts, “Good Morning Principal Waters.”

  “He is in charge of our whole school,” Raegan says.

  “Are you like the president?” a little girl asks.

  I chuckle. “I’m the president of our school.”

  “Well then maybe you can help Joshua. He’s been crying since we came to school this morning. I think he misses his mommy.”

  I kneel down beside her. “That’s very kind of you to ask for help for your friend. What’s your name?”

  “Hannah.”

  “All right, Hannah. Let’s see what we can do about your friend.” I lower myself onto the carpet and crisscross my legs. Not an easy task in a suit, but kids learn from example. I hold my arms out toward the crying boy in Raegan’s lap. “Joshua, come sit with me.”

  The room is silent while Joshua climbs down from the rocking chair and into my arms. I rub his back in slow circles. “What story are we reading, Hannah?”

  “The Three Little Pigs,” she says. “We’re at the part where the wolf goes to the brick house.”

  “Oh, that’s the best part.” I nod at Raegan to continue, who’s staring at me with a look of utter shock.

  While she reads, I talk to Joshua in a low, soothing tone. “Your mommy called me before. She wanted me to check on you and give you a very important message.”

  Joshua’s watery eyes look into mine. “She did?”

  I nod. “She did. She told me to tell you that she is so proud of you for coming to this big boy school. She can’t wait to hear about all the fun things you did on your first day. I told her I’d let her know how you’re doing. But I don’t want to tell her that you’ve been crying all morning. That would make mommy sad. What do you think I should tell her?”

  Joshua sniffles as he ponders for a moment. “Maybe you can tell her I’m listening to a story.”

  “That’s a good idea. I’d also like to tell her you made a friend. Maybe you can sit here with Hannah. She is very nice.”

  Hannah smiles and pats the rug beside her.

  “And you’ll tell my mom I was being a good boy?” Joshua asks.

  “I’ll call her as soon as I leave this room.”

  Joshua slides off my lap and onto the carpet next to Hannah. She rubs his back the same way I did, and when they hear the part of the story when the wolf falls into the pot of boiling water, Joshua laughs.

  Raegan’s expression is priceless, her lips forming a little O-shape. She clearly underestimated my abilities. That makes me glad.

  It’ll be that much sweeter when I take back what’s mine.

  Raegan

  “How can someone that rude be so good with kids?” Kerry asks. “Aren’t children supposed to sense bad people?”

  “I think that’s dogs,” Andrea says.

  “You should’ve seen him.” I peel the lid off my yogurt. “He got Joshua to stop crying in two seconds. It’s like he’s the child whisperer or something.”

  “Send him to my room,” says Mary. “I’ve got a crier too. Poor kid won’t even eat her lunch.”

  It’s only twelve o’clock, and we’re already exhausted. Our pretty first day of school dresses are soaked in sweat. Our feet are throbbing. And we still have three hours left to go.

  I can’t stop thinking about how helpful Jaxon was with Joshua. He was … sweet. It was the same Jaxon I’d met at the bar last month. Nothing like the unhinged version I’d gotten a front row seat to a couple of days ago.

  Why did he help me? Maybe this means he doesn’t think I stole his grandmother’s ring after all. Maybe he came to his senses.

  A knock at Becca’s classroom door tears our attention away from our lunches. My stomach twists when I see Jaxon standing in the doorway.

  “Just checking up on you ladies. Everybody surviving?”

  We all groan in unison.

  Jaxon chuckles. “You’re doing a great job. The day’s half over. Raegan, may I speak with you for a minute?”

  I suck in a breath and smooth out my dress as I follow Jaxon into the hallway.

  “I need you to be our mascot later during the assembly.”

  I choke and sputter in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”

  He crosses his arms over his chest, a smug smile on his stupid handsome face. “I helped you with Joshua this morning. Now I need you to do something for me.”

  My eyes narrow. That’s why he was so nice before. “Who’s going to sit with my class while I’m in the costume?”

  “Chris can watch them. He doesn’t have a class that period.”

  “So then why don’t you ask Chris to be the mascot?”

  “Because I’m in charge, and I want you to be the mascot.”

  We stare each other down, a battle of the wills. In the end, I have no choice but to back down. He’s my boss. If I want to keep my job, I have to do what he says.

  “Fine.” I spin around and stomp back into Becca’s room.

  “Everything all right?” Sammi asks.

  “Sure. Everything’s great. You’re looking at the mascot for today’s assembly.”

  “Are you okay in there?”

  “I’m in a giant bird costume. It’s a thousand degrees in here. And I can’t see where I’m going. I am definitely not okay.”

  The Vice Principal, Mrs. Wilcox, laughs. “It was great of you to volunteer to do this. It’s like pulling teeth trying to find someone willing to put this thing on.”

  “Can’t imagine why,” I mutter.

  “Once Mr. Waters calls you in, you’re going to w
alk straight down the middle of the auditorium. I will hold your wing and guide you, since you can’t see. You’ll dance a little at the front until the music stops, wave a few times. That’s it. It’ll be five minutes tops.”

  Beads of sweat trickle down my cheeks. Five minutes. I can do this.

  The auditorium erupts in cheers. “That’s your cue. Here we go.”

  I shuffle my giant bird feet, allowing Mrs. Wilcox to guide me down the aisle. She says something to me, but the music’s so loud, I can’t hear her. All I can do is keep moving. Just a few more minutes and this will be over.

  As I take my next step, my foot hits something. I lose my balance and start to fall forward. I flap my wings around, trying to steady myself, but it’s no use. I tip over and hit the ground.

  The music stops and the crowd gasps. I roll over, trying to build enough momentum to pull myself up. But like a turtle stuck on its back, I can’t get to my feet. Where the hell is Mrs. Wilcox?

  “You stepped on my foot!” a kid yells.

  Oh my God. I stepped on a student?

  “Get the bird!” yells another.

  “No!” I shriek. “Don’t get the bird!”

  Someone pounces on my stomach. Someone else kicks my leg. Before I can stop them, there’s a gang of kids beating the crap out of me as I lie helpless on the ground.

  “Ouch! Stop!” My arms and legs flail, kicking and pushing anyone who’s near me. I don’t care if they get hurt. It’s every man for himself, and I will not be taken out by a pack of rabid children.

  Finally, someone hoists me off the ground. I hear Jaxon’s voice on the microphone, telling the students to take their seats.

  The asshole sounds like he’s laughing.

  As soon as I’m dragged into the hallway, I rip off the bird’s head and gasp for air.

  Chris holds me steady. “You okay, Rae?”

  “Just get me out of this thing!”

  Becca bursts through the auditorium door. “Rae, are you okay? That was insane!”

  I grunt as I step out of the costume. “Those little shits attacked me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Jax planned it.”