Page 17 of The Other Side
Only the most prestigious donors and tenured faculty were given permission to call the headmaster by his nickname. I knew in my gut then, Chance Harper had to be filthy rich to have immediately garnered such a privilege.
I felt like a fool all over again.
“It must be nice not to be the newest teacher at Montgomery.” The headmaster regarded me with a tone suggesting humorous condescension. “But still the youngest.” He chuckled. “Chance has three years on your twenty-eight, my dear.”
“Does he?” I smiled through gritted teeth.
Winston ignored my indignance. “Since you two seem to be getting on so wonderfully, why don’t you introduce Chance?” The headmaster phrased it as a question, but the invitation was clearly compulsory.
Without receiving so much as a nod, he slipped his hand through my elbow, and I found myself being dragged to the podium.
“I couldn’t,” I attempted to decline, knowing it was too late for me.
“Nonsense, I insist,” Winston dismissed me.
Chance’s eyes darted back and forth between me and Winston as he followed behind.
I mouthed the words, “Help me.”
Chance swallowed, unsure of what to do.
If there was any part of me that thought something salvageable existed between Chance Harper and myself, it died in that moment.
He had made a very big mistake in making an enemy of me.
“Come along, dear.” Winston pulled me up the couple of stairs to the raised platform at the far end of the room before releasing me and making his way to the front of the stage.
Cheeks surely crimson from embarrassment, I twisted my fingers nervously in front of me, letting my gaze fall to the floor, not wanting to make eye contact with the myriad of colleagues who no doubt looked on in amusement at my predicament.
Headmaster Winston tapped the microphone harshly with his index finger, testing to make sure it was working. “Turn the music down,” he called to someone running the sound system at the back.
A moment later, the classical music that had been playing through the speakers was cut and a hush fell over the crowd.
“Hello esteemed colleagues, faithful board members, and generous donors,” Winston began. Center stage, with warmth and brevity filling his voice, he was in his element. All eyes on him. “I want to welcome you to another spectacular school year at the Montgomery Preparatory School.”
A polite applause broke out amongst the crowd and I followed suit.
Winston basked in their energy and continued with a twenty-minute keynote speech I hadn’t been expecting when I’d been forced to stand at the back of the stage in my uncomfortable heels.
Toward the end, which at the time, I hadn’t known was the end, I began teetering on them so precariously, I considered feigning some sort of swoon rather than taking them off in front of everyone. But I didn’t want anyone to think I was drunk, so instead I subtly shifted back and forth, trying to evenly distribute my weight and focus on anything other than the pain shooting through the balls of my feet.
I could feel Chance’s eyes on me, but refused to acknowledge him.
Finally, I could sense Winston was wrapping up his time in the spotlight and practically lunged for the microphone when he said, “Our young Miss Price would like to introduce our newest addition to the teaching staff.”
While trying to ignore the awful tenderness lancing through my feet as Winston spoke, I had come up with a short but sweet introduction I was sure would please the headmaster.
“Last year, I was welcomed with much kindness and open arms when I joined this distinguished institution,” I lied. “I would like to extend the same warm welcome to our new English teacher, Chance Harper.”
Stepping back as the room erupted in more applause, I motioned for Chance to take the microphone. His heated gaze locked on mine for a split second before he was forced to move past me to the front of the stage.
You lost your chance, buddy.
Taking advantage of the cacophony to make a hasty retreat, I tuned out Chance’s deep and melodic voice and instead made for the closest exit, only to be immediately foiled.
