5. Oliver

FIVE

Oliver

“We’re fucked,” I tell Lina, who has spent the last fifteen minutes trying to convince me that I haven’t made a terrible mistake and that Georgia Baker won’t burn the school to the ground.

I think back to this morning, at the journey of emotions, the perplexing ups and downs and ebbs and flows that this woman pulled from me.

Irritation, walking up the stairs, knowing I would have to hire the beautiful garbage woman.

Confusion, in the hallway, approaching the door to Class 302 and hearing the alarming chaos of children arguing.

Shock, tinged with a bit of fear, as I peeked through the window and saw students putting their hands on one another, some on the ground, others squaring up.

Wonder, seeing an attractive woman standing her ground, a blue-eyed empress in her element, a tempting siren alluring me with her call, her confidence disguising her ultimate unpredictability.

Frustration, after moving around the classroom and seeing the student work .

Anger, at her poorly disguised contempt and insolence outside the classroom, her squaring up to me, eyes flashing, her head tilted all the way back because of her height in relation to mine.

Bewilderment, afterwards, that I couldn’t stop thinking about the way her eyes flashed brilliantly. The tiny mole above her lip. The way her bottom lip was much fuller than the top.

I shake my head.

Next step: ride her ass into the ground.