Page 35 of Unexpected Heroine

I wish I deserved her love too.

Chapter 7

Who let the drunk llama inside?

LETTIE

I’ve got half a mind to file a formal complaint with the Decatur County School Board about their choice of curriculum. Perhaps James will let me hop on one of his laptops so I can type out a strongly worded email.

With endless potential subjects, what did they go with? Not lipreading or how to avoid getting roofied in a bar.

Nooo.

Square dancing.

That’s the skill they thought would best prepare us for adulthood.

What brain trust came up with that humdinger?

In an effort to distract myself, I allow my mind to picture the scene.

After grueling days of heated discourse, the school administrators have yet to agree on the last elective. They resort to bringing in an impartial judge.

His entrance heralded by clip-clopping down the hall, in breezes the one who will decide the fate of the children of Climax.

A drunk llama with one eye.

Well, one can only assume he’s drunk from his unsteady gait. He also smells like whiskey, and his shoes don’t match. The Mardi Gras beads are another dead giveaway.

The superintendent sticks a marker in the llama’s mouth and points him to the grease board. Naturally, as drunk llamas are known to do, it stumbles around, clanking into the table, and shitting in the corner.

Eventually, he draws something resembling a square on the board. Square dancing, clearly. For it hath been decreed by the drunk one-eyed llama of legend.

Confetti cannons blast. Champagne bottles uncork.

As you’d expect, the llama chugs an entire bottle instead of sipping sensibly.

Now, I can’t be entirely sure this is how it all unfolded, but my ADHD thinks it’s a solid possibility. As an added perk, this outlandish thought roller coaster has distracted me so well that I haven’t pitched a solid gold shit fit despite being alone.

Yet.

If James doesn’t hurry the fuck up, I’m not sure even a drunk llama could stave off my impending freak-out.

As my heart rate spikes, I take two steps toward the front door then fall back to the window instead.

I shouldn’t need to go out there. He’s mere feet away. I could tap the glass, and he’d be by my side two seconds later.

Just breathe, Lettie. You’re perfectly safe. No one is going to get you.

With that thought, I glance over my shoulder for the eightieth time, expecting to see someone sneaking up behind me.

Stupid, Lettie.

I nibble on my thumbnail while studying the scene on the lawn. With all my freaking might, I struggle to interpret what they’re saying without the needed lipreading skills. Not that it would help, since James has his back to me.

But it would still be better than square dancing.

A lump forms in my throat as the large man backs away, retreating to the SUV.

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