Page 3 of The Devoted Dastard

“Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go out.”

The Trick

Leah

There was not enough coffee in the world to power me through cleaning the rest of my classroom today. We’d been told the janitorial staff went through all the rooms before our teacher work days, but if they claimed they did anything but sweep, I was calling bullshit.

I tossed my third empty wipe container into the trash and took a deep breath. The janitor staff was shorthanded, just like every other part of the school. They were doing what they could with what they had. Just like I was doing what I could with wipes I bought in bulk off the internet. With my own money.

Groaning, I sat down at my desk, which was covered by new, colorful posters. I didn’t have the energy to hang them, but if I didn’t do it today, my kids would only have white cinder blocks to look at on their first day. The very thought of that made stomach acid rise in the back of my throat.

Resigned to staying late, I pushed back up to get the glue gun plugged in.

“Leah?”

Jerking up, I turned to see my boss at the door. This was only Nicole’s second year at Destin Elementary, so I hadn’t had the opportunity or, to be honest, the time to get to know her. She was a tall, somewhat lanky, Black woman with a shaved head and the chic fashion sense of someone who belonged far, far away from children. I was simultaneously jealous and questioning her sanity.

“What’s up?” I asked, carefully setting the glue gun on a paper plate on the floor. Super safe.

“Since it’s our last teacher work day—”

I bit back a groan and fought the urge to look around at all the things I still had to do.

“—I'm hosting a little happy hour tonight. You know, to celebrate the new year and to get off on the right foot. I know everyone doesn’t get much of a chance to chat during work, so this’ll be a good opportunity to build our work community.”

Oh great, my favorite thing, team building.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Banks, I’ve really got to—” I started to say, waving at the mess on my desk. But she interrupted by putting a hand on my arm.

“I hate it a little too,” she said with a tight, wobbly smile. “But I need as many people to come as possible. And I’ll get your first drink to make up for it.”

I looked around my classroom again, the sound of a drink making everything look a bit more manageable.

“All right, sure. But I’m only staying for a couple of drinks.”

I should’ve known this was a trap. After all, why else would Nicole bribe me with alcohol? That wasn’t the kind of bribe you get for a regular commingling event.

No, it was reserved for something especially obnoxious. The engagement party for the most annoying fifth grade teacher.

Cindy had gotten engaged the day before teachers returned to school and would not shut up about it. And that wasn’t even in the top three reasons why she was the worst. One, she thought fifth graders were the worst and that she’s a saint for dealing with them. Two, any time we had a potluck style event, she brought potato salad with raisins and would follow up with every single person on how they liked it. And three, in every single meeting, she gossiped through the whole thing in high-pitched whispers. It pissed me off so much, she pissed me off so much.

And now I was stuck at TJ’s listening to her tell the story of her proposal over and over again, because of course everyone arrived at different times and "needed" to hear the story from the beginning. The only blessing was that as she got drunker, the story got shorter.

Despite this being a "party" it was clear Nicole was only able to talk a handful of people into going. And based on where all our classrooms were, she must’ve gone straight down the hall, decreasing the details as she went to con more people.

“What about you, Leah?” Cindy slurred, reaching across the table and making a grabby motion at me. I pulled back, taking my drink with me because it was my literal life raft in this situation.

“What about me?”

“Do you have a boyfriend? If I invite anyone from work to the wedding, I need to consider their plus ones.” There was no way in hell Cindy was thinking of inviting me to her wedding. We weren’t close, even in a pretend way. Plus I wasn’t great at hiding my expressions, so she knew exactly how I felt about her and her potato salad.

“I don’t have a partner.”

“Aw, how come?” she said with mock empathy, the sound stickier than the kids' hands after lunch.

“Because I don’t want one. And unlike some people, I’m not afraid of being single.”

Beside me, Nicole choked on her drink and a few ladies over on the corner giggled.