“Do you like Mr. Overo?” she asked, writing down a math equation like she had asked about addition. “Well, ummm, we have a sort of relationship,” she paused. “We are very close and don’t tell anybody this, but we have been on a date.” “Sounds to me like you’re dating,” the student murmured. Kennedy, her names was. Mrs Ramira knew she had a tendency to gossip. But this was certainly a rumor that would spread like wildfire.

"You've got the job.” The principal said as he handed me my classroom keys. "Thank you so much." I said with glee as I took them out of his hands. "You are very welcome, but there is one thing you must know." "Yes?" I said with slight confusion in my voice. "I know we have many good looking teachers at our school, and you may have trouble holding yourself back, but coworkers are not allowed to date, for the sake of maintaining professionalism." "Yes sir, I understand." "I have set you up with a mentor teacher for the week, his name is Mr. Smith." As the words of his name traveled out of the principal's mouth I felt my heart skip a beat. I made my way to Mr. Smith's classroom and introduced myself. "Hi, you must be Mr. Smith. I am Ms. Honey, the new speech language pathologist.” Mr. Smith had bright brown eyes and had a gaze that made my legs feel like jelly. "Well Ms. Honey, it is very nice to meet you. I look forward to seeing you around.” "I look forward to it." I said shyly with a smile. The next day, Mr. Smith walked into my office while I was on my lunch break." "I did not think you would come see me while I was on my lunch break." I said not taking my eyes off of him. "Well, I just did not want you to be alone ya know?" He said gently. "Do you want to go get lunch with me while we are still on break?" "I am not really sure, are you sure our boss will not think anything of this?" I said hesitantly. "Look, if we get in trouble for this, I will take the blame. Okay?" He could not get any sweeter in my mind. We were out for burgers during our break, and Mr. Smith continued to try and get to know me. "So, do you always look this pretty on a Monday afternoon?" "What are you talking about?" I said acting oblivious. "Honey, I know you heard me. You know exactly what I am talking about. "Maybe I do, maybe I do not. I said blushing. "Oh yeah, because I clearly can not tell." He said with clear sarcasm in his voice. "Will you stop that? It is time for us to get back to work anyway." "Yes mom." Mr. Smith said teasingly. I rolled my eyes as he opened my door. "Hey Honey, can I borrow a pen?" Mr. Smith said as he walked into my office on Tuesday morning. "Are we really doing this again?" I said with slight annoyance in my voice. "Doing what? I am just calling you by your last name. What is wrong with that?" He said with a wink. "Absolutely nothing." I said trying not to blush. "Here." I said as I handed him a pink highlighter. "This is not a pen." He said with confusion. "Yes it is." I said with the urgency of wanting him to get out of my office. "This is a highlighter honey." "It is still a pen!" I say as I push him out the door. "You could have given me one that is not pink." After a few days of thinking, I decided that maybe I will play along with Mr. Smith and his silly mind games. I walk over to Mr. Smith's classroom to let him know how I feel after school. "Hi lovey!" I say excitingly. "Well someone's gotten bold huh." he said as he walked over to me and wrapped his hands around my waist. "Well I decided I would rather have the time of my life with you and risk my job as opposed to denying these feelings altogether.” "C'mere." he said gently as he pulled me on his lap. "You are an amazing speech teacher, and you just graduated, am I really worth the risk?" "Maybe." I said hesitantly. "No beautiful, I am not." "But I really like you, please." I said with tears rolling down my face. "Honey I do not want you to cry, just know that I will forever treasure what we had." He said as he kissed my hand and placed a peck on my lips. "Ms. Honey, you will never leave my heart or my mind." "I will never forget you." I said hugging him. "And I hope you never do." He said as he pulled me closer to him.

The shop bell rang. Albus walked in and sniffed. The air in Needle, Hook & Spindle was weighed with cinnamon and lanolin. Women and little girls were knitting or squeezing skeins of yarn. Immediately he felt the laser pull of the yarn shop’s proprietress’ eyes. Squaring his shoulders, Albus beelined for Rowena. As he approached the counter, Rowena turned away and dealt with a customer. Albus twirled his fingers releasing pale blue sparks of anxiety and walked around the shop. Rowena handled her customer. Then Rowena started to spin a skein of yarn on a wheel of some sort. Albus placed his hands behind his back and walked the aisles of yarns. He picked up a book. The warm scent whirled around him and laid across his shoulders. Albus turned and caught Rowena eyeing him up. Blushing, they both looked away. Rowena started teaching an elderly lady how to cast on. Albus realized the book he was reading was upside. Rowena laughed and daisy petals rained down from the ceiling. Blazing in indigo fury, Albus stalked towards Rowena whipping out his wand. Everyone in the yarn shop froze except for Albus and Rowena. “Why didn’t you attend the Court, Rowena? You could’ve squashed this issue with a few mea culpas. Now the Council of Witchery and General Magicfolks has insisted on a tribunal.” “Blah, blah tell me something I don’t know, Professor Crowley. Are you daring to do magic in my shop on my customers? I work for a living unlike some warlocks I know. That is a clear violation of Hecate Standards.” “Your new methods of training witches is attracting too much attention, ruffling the wrong feathers,” Albus said. “I am a master witch and I know the laws of enchantment inside and out. I’m not playing patty fingers with the institution. I’m always going to be myself and teach my students to do the same.” Rowena crossed her arms and a gust of snowflake buffeted he shop and the customers blinked back into motion. “Ro, if you don’t pull back into line the Council will turn against you. They will shut you down and I can’t protect you,” Albus said touching the warm skin of her hand. “They can try but I will live my magic my way. And Birdy your protection is not what I needed from you.” Rowena turned away to focus on her confused snow dusted customers. Albus stomped out of the yarn shop. “Insufferable pig-headed witch!” Albus shouted. Brushing snow and petals off his shoulders, Albus walked away carrying the warm smell of spice back home.

“Ms. DuPont, I meant to bring my English project in today, I really did! It’s just… well… I guess I was so busy this morning that it slipped my mind.” I set my final stack of graded tests for the day on my desk, and look at my student. “Evelyn, I understand life is full of distractions and is usually pretty crazy.” I notice her chest drops and she smiles. “Yes, exactly. And of course I’ll bring it in on Monday, first thing.” I pick up a pen and roll it between my fingers. “I know you will. It’s just that, this was the final due date for it to be turned it. I don’t think it would be fair for me to give you the same grade even though the project will be turned in late. I’ll probably have to deduct a few points.” Evelyn holds her arms against her waist and sighs. “You won’t take off many points right? Because I promise you Ms. DuPont that I worked hard on this project. Very hard actually, and my family would even attest to that. I started the day that you announced the project.” I looked at her sympathetically. “Ms. DuPont -“. Her voice breaks, and she turns her head away and wipes her cheeks. “Evelyn, what’s wrong hon?” She keeps her head turned from me while she tries to speak. “It’s just- I really didn’t mean to let anyone down. I don’t wanna disappoint my parents any more than I already have.” I set the pen down and stand up from my desk. I walk around so I’m in front of her but also giving her space. “Evelyn, you have not let me down. You made a mistake, which everyone does because we are human.” She turns to look at me, eyes red. She wipes her cheek one more time. “You are a wonderful student, but more importantly, a wonderful girl. You know that?” She gently nods her head. “Good.” I walk up to give her a side hug. “Thank you. I think I should get to dismissal, I don’t want to upset my dad.” I give her a smile and nod. She adjusts her backpack as she walks out of my classroom. I lean on my desk and let out a sigh. I truly love teaching, but it does come with some tough moments. I’ve had quite a few troublemaker’s over the years. I’m not as accustomed to dealing with emotional situations. I walk behind my desk when I hear a light knock. “How are you Frenchie?” I chuckle and look at Ryan. “You could call me anything, and that’s what you’re sticking with?” He grins and walks into my classroom. “I told you that you could call me something. Doesn’t even have to be associated with my heritage.” He walks up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, his mouth close to my ear. “Hmm..” I say while slightly leaning back into him. “How about napkin, because you seem to love writing notes on napkins and hiding them in my desk?” He laughs. “That’s too romantic, Angela. I want to be humiliated. I want you to think of a name so embarrassing that I turn red.” I turn around so that I’m facing him. “You sure are a weird man, honeydew.” As soon I finish the sentence he opens his mouth wide, like he’s shocked. “How could you have possibly known about that?” “Your mother seems to adore talking about her children with everyone, especially her darling honeydew.” He puts his hands on his face and rubs. “Gosh, just when I start to think my mom understands when to stop talking.” I can’t help but laugh uncontrollably. “It’s really not that funny.” he says while he grins. “Oh I completely disagree, Mr. Honeydew.” We’re both laughing and turn to see if anyone is around. “You better not reveal what you know to my students. I will never hear the end of it.” “I think they would be honored to know a special fact about their history teacher.” Someone clears their throat. We turn to look at the door, and standing there is Principal Monroe. “I need to speak with the both of you in my office.” “Is it urgent sir? Because our French English teacher here has been quite troublesome.” I playfully hit his shoulder and scoff. “Please see me in my office right now, the both of you.” He gives us a look showing us he is displeased and walks out. “Uh oh. We’re being sent to the principals office. That can’t be good.” I bend down to the floor to grab my purse and stand back up. “This isn’t funny Ryan. I am familiar with that tone and facial expression. He is actually pissed, and I don’t even know what about.” I start walking towards the door. Ryan follows me and grabs my hand. “I’m sure it’s nothing bad. You know Ronald. He’s the grinch every day of the year. It doesn’t take much to piss him off. Makes you wonder why he works with kids.” I look at him. “Let’s just go to his office.” We walk down the hallway towards his office. “We’re probably not the only staff facing his wrath today. He probably is just trying to scare us.” “Uh huh.” “Loosen up Ang. It’s going to be fine.” We arrive at his door. “Maybe we should just book it. Move to another country with nothing but ourselves?” I shake my head and sigh. “Tough crowd.” Principal Monroe opens the door. “Take a seat.” We enter his plain and dreary office. The walls are light grey and he has a couple of withering plants on the windowsills. He has a bookshelf behind his desk, covered in sticky notes and papers. In front of his desk are two forest green chairs. I sit down in the left chair, closer to the window. “What a homely office, Ron. Love what you’ve done with the place.” Ryan’s attempt at lightening the situation makes me grin, which I immediately remove when the principal looks at me. “Appreciate it, Mr. Danielson. Please sit.” He grunts and sits down in his worn out office chair. “As you know, the school has had its financial problems recently. I’m not going to get into all that’s happening, quite honestly because it’s none of your concern.” “None of our concern? I don’t know if I agree sir. We are teachers here, and should be informed if things aren’t steady.” Principal Monroe gives Ryan an annoyed look. “I did not say that things aren’t steady, Mr. Danielson. Though teachers you may be, you are not members of the board.” He coughs into his arm. “Anyway, the reason you’ve been called here is because one or both of you, unfortunately, will be losing their job. I figured talking to both of you would be easier for me, time wise. I open my mouth in shock. “Sir, convenience doesn’t cover the fact that this is highly inappropriate. And I don’t understand, why would either of us be getting fired?” Ryan looks at me. I continue to look at Ronald. “Because a stolen envelope containing 3 thousand dollars was discovered in your classroom, Ms. DuPont.” “I’m sorry, I have not seen an envelope in my room. “ “It was found by our janitor, Mr. Rockford. He found it on the top shelf of your closet.” I grab onto my purse tightly. I look at Ryan. “Angela…why would you do such a thing?” I stare at him in disbelief. “I did not steal an envelope.” “Now that I think about it, you’ve been acting strange for the past few days. I figured something was up, but I didn’t think it would be this.” Ronald clears his throat again. “Sounds like you have a cold, boss.” says Ryan. I continue to glare at him. “I have been feeling sick lately. Always do this time of year.” “Same here. Winter sure is a rough visitor.” “So you believe that Ms. DuPont is guilty of stealing the money? I would have thought you’d defend her, seeing as how close you two have grown lately.” “Well, she sure had me falling in the beginning. Her beauty, charm, and kindness roped me in. But I haven’t known her long, and in my experience, people tend to show you what they want you to believe.” He looks at me and shakes his head. “And I am shocked that you would play me like this.” I don’t say anything. I refrain from saying the not so pleasant things that I do want to say. “I’m afraid that this will cost you your job, Angela. I’ll call you Angela because..well, you’re not a teacher here any longer.” “You’re really going to fire me? Even with no solid evidence?” He stands up from his desk. “I take my duty here very seriously. Theft is not acceptable at this school. You will not be returning to school Monday, so I suggest packing your things before you leave today.” I stand up from my seat, my purse swinging on my elbow. “Wow.” I scoff. I don’t even look at Ryan as I walk towards the door. I open the door and look back at the principal. “Thank God you’re not a judge in a court of law.” I walk out and slam the door.

"That man has a lot of nerve," Anais said, her head resting on my bare chest as she gently caressed the bushel of hair above my waistline. I shrugged my shoulders and kissed her gently on the top of her head, my lips tasting her silky smooth brown hair, my nose gaining a rush of fresh strawberry. Good lord this woman smelled like a goddess, every bit of her. "He's the principal. I think at this point he just does what he wants," I whispered. "I don't see what the harm is, most of the students don't know about us, and if they do they don't care. They're too wrapped up in the horrible dramas of being a teenager. The rest of the staff? They don’t care either, a good amount of them are screwing around behind his back anyway...so why us Abel?" I gave another shrug. I sincerely didn't know why Principal Gideon had targeted us, I'd had my suspicions but they were far from good. Did he have an issue with me? Mr. Bentley, the fun and exciting History teacher that every student liked? I'd always had the notion that he didn't like me, was it because he was generally hated and I was the polar opposite of that? Was that the case or was I just being big-headed? Probably big-headed. But what about Anais? The gorgeous and ravishing Ms. Burkheart. Every student adored her, male or female it didn’t matter, everyone loved her. She was the best art teacher at Corvallis High, and maybe the best art teacher in the district. What was Gideon's issue with her? Was it because he saw her as unattainable? If that were the case was he jealous that I was with her, and if that were the situation was this inadvertently all my fault? There's that big-headedness again... "I can't believe we have to call this off, and if we don’t? We lose our jobs. It's fucking ridiculous," Anais said, she gave a little peck at my chest. I closed my eyes as I struggled to find the right words to say. Anais, soft hands moving under the blanket that covered us. "We'll figure something out." "We can't keep it a secret Abel, Corvallis Falls is too small. We'll be sniffed out within days." I closed my eyes as her hands rubbed against my pubic region, biting my lower lip through pure instinct. I couldn't believe she wanted to do this again, and I wasn't one to complain. "We can keep it a secret Anais, we just need to be smart..." "We could kill him," Whispered Anais. I could feel her breath as it brushed past my earlobe, it warmed my body to its core. "Wow..." Said Anais with a playful tone. "Is that what turns you on now?" I laughed and rolled out of bed, pulling away from her firm but inviting grip. "Anais..." She pushed herself off the bed, the blanket falling to her waist, exposing those perfect breasts of hers, a smile unfolded across her lips and her brow veered inward. "Don't act like you haven't thought about it, Abel." Anais had caught me red-handed, as she often did. Killing Carter Gideon was something that ran through my mind on the daily. It essentially populated my headspace when I wasn't doing anything productive...so like 85% of my day. "I have," I admitted. "But there has to be a better way." Anais snickered and threw her head back, a wave of brown hair going from right to left. "What are you scared of? We got away with it before." I scoffed, pacing back and forth along the side of my bed, "Yeah, but this is Carter Gideon, Anais. People are going to notice." Anais facial expression soured, "Who? He's a divorced man in his late fifties, his ex-wife hates him and his kids loath him so much they moved to the opposite end of the country." She was right about that. Carter had been a much-hated individual for as long as I've known him. I saw his divorce coming from a mile away, I think the entire staff did. His kids hated him as well, I had both of his daughters in my history class and they were extremely open about their hatred toward him. It was funny in the weirdest way imaginable. Carter Gideon spent his evenings alone, he had been for the last fifteen years, and I didn't see that changing anytime soon. Anais crawled over to me, and wrapped her arms around my neck, "We can kill him and no one would bat an eyelash, we'd be doing the world a favor." She kissed me, and I kissed back. We fell back onto the bed, the silk sheets she'd bought me wrapping around our bodies. I ran my hands through her silky brown hair as I gently pulled away. I could see the momentary hurt in those beautiful blue eyes of hers. I smiled. "What do you have in mind?"

“Ms. Williams?” a student asked me with tears rolling down her eyes. “Oh, yes, what's wrong?” I asked in a worried voice. “Hey Lauren, I'll take this one if you’d like?” Mr.Wilson suggested while smiling at me. Me. Wilson, his first name was Michael. He was my first high school boyfriend I had ndcdr stopped loving him, until our principal found out about our affair in the staff bathroom.

“Don’t get attached.” Our company’s motto. I always found it a bit ironic, being that we literally and physically needed to stay attached to survive. Our job is epically joyful, but we need to take it seriously. We risk our lives and that of our patrons by harnessing up, and diving head-first at 30,000 feet. We are tandem skydive trainers, and that fateful summer, I learned how to fly. I had never felt such bliss. The winds of change carried me up into the peakest of heights, both in thrill-seeking and love. You know when your coworker warns you that the new guy is cute but not to get involved? Well, I seem to be especially prone to that which I can’t have, and my heart didn’t know that it was sabotaging my wellbeing by falling head over heels in love. We were perfectly matched from day one. I was tasked with taking the new guy up for his first flight, where I would pilot. He got to enjoy the ride while we both took in an especially colourful and spectacular sunrise view. We soared together for what seemed like hours, and landed on our bottoms, laughing and rolling in a nearby field. Many moons passed over successful flights had, and one particular harvest moon we sat by a fire and celebrated his graduation to pilot status. He would now go on to teach newbies how to fly. That night we fell asleep in each others arms. Each of us knew that to be together would end our careers. Pilots could not be emotionally or relationally involved; we needed to stay clear headed to keep everyone in the air safe. I had an idea. At the end of the summer I would take a leave of absence and get transferred to a nearby town for work. I wanted to keep everything a secret, both to avoid tipping off my boss, and to leave it as a surprise for my soon-to-be beau’s birthday. The day came. I sprang out of bed. I got to work early, letter in hand. I went to pack up my things and checked the locker room to see if he was there. He was gone. Already up taking a new girl on a flight. Our radio girl burst through the glass doors, tears streaming down her face. “There’s been a terrible accident”. Those words echoed in my ears. I didn’t need to hear what I already knew to be true. I ran for the exit. Tripped over my shoes. Landed onto the concrete with a skid. Blood and gravel deep in my face. Tears screamed their way out as I writhed in agony and heartbreak on the parking lot ground. We buried him a few days later, in the field where we rolled and played. Our favourite tree in the distance. His favourite song singing in the wind. Don’t get attached. Easy to say. Impossible to practice, when love gets in the way.

I’m… I’m not sure what I was thinking. I could see the trouble coming — every red flag I had ever tried to exacerbate to one of my girlfriends about their own man troubles was apparent, and I kept going. I heard about him before I ever saw him. In the sleepy little school of 500 kids tucked far, far away from civilization, news of a newcomer buzzed around the kids in the halls, sauntering complacently into my Grade 11 Math Class as the final bell ushered them. “He’s jacked!” “Yeah, did you hear him say he bench presses 315? Auburn is crazy!” I was the cool, young teacher — if you could still call me young. I was 32, but the shrinking enrolment at the school had meant seniority cuts; nobody had been hired for years, and so I was still youngest and coolest. As such, I got to pry into all of their drama to wind them down before beating them over the head with permutations. I interjected. “Who’s Auburn, new kid?” “Nah, Miss!” I always thought it was weird how the students say Miss regardless of marital status — I was very much caught up in my happy marriage that has blossomed two children, 5 and 3. “He’s the new sub teacher, Miss!” Katelyn interjected — a keener, the type who was always eager to get class rolling. “Oh. And he talks about how much he bench presses? Nice.” The first of many red flags I identified and ignored — I segued into the lesson and never put much thought into it. Over the following weeks and months, the mysterious newcomer made some inroads — the school principal had long seemed like an ‘old boy’ to me. He was the type who likely belonged to a frat, and Auburn must have been part of the brotherhood because somehow, someway, there was a new staff hire made at Point Placid Vocational for the first time in years.

Geselle Goodwin was as sweet as her name. She wore bows on every thing she could and swore only in oath to keep a promise. Springtime and cookies were two of her favorites, but ask Geselle and she’d say everything was her favorite. She spoke in affirmations and soft questions, and listened with nothing ever less than a smile. She’d spent so many years as a Home Ec teacher, even her hair began to smell like fresh-made rolls. Two doors down the hall from Geselle’s room was phy-ed teacher Mark Mordel. Mark Mordel worked his first day when he was five years old, helping his Pa cut down the big oak in front of their house, and had never stopped working since. He was stiff as stone, and was the only man who’d ever embrace the softness between a rock and a hard place. He cursed at poorly parked sedans and looked down upon anyone sleeping past the hours of 6 am. Life was for working and doing and earning, according to Mark. They’d been exceptionally pleased over their fifty-two dates. It had been a blissful bond, of honey cookies and smoldering fireplaces. Mark had found his soft spot, and Geselle’s only twelve minutes of rage were thanks to his steadfast values of hunting and grunting. Mark learned to dance for their thirty-first date, and Geselle puffed one breath through a cigar on their forty-fourth. They were quite possibly the one true example of opposites attract, a puzzle that would entertain the jokes and whispers of their students. Yet there was a distance between them that all the quirks of asymmetry could never overcome. The athletic endurance of pickleball at 10 am could never match the gummy guilt brought upon by maple syrup and buttermilk waffles. Though, as Mark warned Geselle time and time again, everything good must come to an end. It had happened one gym class, when a particularly savory recipe was on the agenda for Geselle’s Advanced Flavors class. The project had been a test of baking, cooking, and craftsmanship: Breakfast pizza, a sea of sausage, eggs, and peppers atop a doughy cinnamon roll crust. Phillip Thurgess had ignored his teacher’s warnings, stuffing his face slice after slice until his breath stunk of gravy and his fingers stuck with glaze. He found no remorse and no regret as he sauntered into gym next hour, still dreaming of breakfast meat and orange juice. In fact, it wasn’t until 10:42, when he was on is third sprint across the court when the regret hit him like a semi down the highway. A sea of sausage, eggs, and peppers atop a doughy cinnamon roll crust splattered against the newly waxed floor. Smeared across Hank the Hawk yelling “Go, team, go!” An image that Mark could never quite forget. An image he’d see anytime he heard Geselle Goodson’s sing-songy voice or caught a scent of her sweet, sugary perfume.

Mrs. Applebum was thrilled to be back in the classroom. After several years of retirement, the novelty of being home all day wore off. She missed the kids. She missed math. She missed the paycheck. She decided to teach one more year and use that money to pay for the cruise to Antarctica she'd always dreamed of. She waved at a few familiar faces who greeted her warmly as she started to decorate her classroom. Students didn't arrive until the next day, and it was nice to have time to set everything up. She stood on a desk to hang her Divisibility Rules poster when she was interrupted by a male voice. "You're supposed to ask maintenance to help you with things like that," he said. "I'm sorry, and who are you?" Mrs. Applebum didn't take kindly to strangers telling her what to do. She turned around to see a very handsome gentleman who she estimated was in his sixties. She looked at his left hand and noticed there wasn't a ring. "I'm Mr. Padilla, the science teacher here. You must be new." He put out his hand for her to shake. "No, you must be new, Mr. Padilla. I've taught at this school for over twenty years." She stepped off the desk and walked toward him to shake his hand. She noticed his very sturdy handshake. "My name is Mrs. Applebum." "Like the song?" "Excuse me?" She asked, confused. "Never mind. Anyhow, I've heard about you, Mrs. Applebum," he said with a smile. "You retired the year before I started here." "And what exactly did you hear about me?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe I can tell you over coffee or a meal? Do you have plans after school?" he asked. "I don't date coworkers. That's tacky," she said, pursing her lips. "Who said anything about a date?" he asked with a chuckle. "Mr. Padilla, we are grown," she said and walked toward her box of math decorations. "I'm an attractive, shapely lady in a cute dress and boots, and you are a handsome gentleman with a full head of hair." She started ruffling through items in her box. "So you think I"m handsome?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.