Page 26 of Out of My Flocking Mind

“And what am I teaching?” I asked, immediately picturing everyone calling me Ms. Keystone and looking at me like some sort of authority. Oh, the things I could teach kids!

The councilor stuttered—never a good sign—then spoke slowly, without meeting my gaze. “I wasn’t told you were coming on as a teacher.”

“I’m not? Then what am I doing here?” I peered over at Harrison, wondering just what nonsense he’d come up with. “Please tell me I’m not a lunch lady or something.”

“Not exactly…” the counselor said. “You’ll be a proctor.”

“What the fuck is a proctor?”

She actually flinched at the curse word, like it had leapt from my lips and slapped her in her face. “That means you will oversee the children when they are not in the classroom. During passing periods and lunch, for example.”

I frowned as I made sense of her words, then cursed again under my breath when I figured it out. “Wait a minute. You’re telling me I’m a yard narc? Me?” I looked over at Harrison, trying to get some back up for how ridiculous an idea that was.

And for one of the rare times, he smiled. Well, it was a curl of his lips so subtle others might not notice the change at all. I sure did, though. “Well, I thought if anyone could connect with delinquents, it would be you.”

My response was just one finger, and I had a feeling he could understand that without any of his powers.

* * * *

Kids suck.

The longer I spent in the midst of them, the surer I was about it. I used to hate the way old people bitched and moaned about the younger generations, but right about now?

As I watched two kids throwing bottles over and over again, trying to get one to land upright, I shook my head. Either kids were getting dumber or I was just old.

Today marked the second day of so-called work. Harrison got play the part of respected teacher while I was supposed to keep order outside of the classroom, which felt more like wrangling wild animals than anything else.

Also, I said so-called work because I sure as fuck wasn’t doing that. Who cared if the kids were chewing gum or making out? I wasn’t getting paid nearly enough to play cock-block for teenagers.

Wait, am I getting paid?

I had better get paid for this nonsense.

Of course, if I found out I wasn’t…

I thought about all the rather nice items I’d spotted lying around. A few of those would sell for enough to make wasting my time worth it.

Across the way, someone caught my attention.

Maybe it was my passenger—my crow—or maybe it was just my own personality, but I could always tell when someone was up to no good—especially if they were nervous about it. It was something in the way they walked, the way they held themselves, and my senses zeroed in on them like that first sniff of coffee in the morning.

Sure enough, across the quad, one such kid darted their gaze around as though watching for a tail. Of course, they were shitty at it, because they didn’t notice when I got up from my place and headed their way.

The kid—a girl who looked far too uncomfortable to be some career criminal—moved past the line of buildings toward the undeveloped area near the fence line. For how nice most of the school was—complete with greenery and lawns that had to cost a fortune to keep up in the desert—the outer areas were as trashy as any poorer area.

I peeked around the corner of the building to spot Little Miss Innocent standing there with a boy.

If this was yet another hook-up attempt, I was going to be pissed.

“Do you have it?” the girl asked, her voice soft and nervous.

The boy smirked—and boy did I recognize that look. He was the one used to being in trouble, the sort who thrived on it. He was my type of person and far more promising.

The boy lifted one of his dark eyebrows. “Depends. Do you have the money?”

The girl nodded and reached into the back pocket of her jeans, then pulled out a roll of bills. The twenty on the outside suggested it was a couple hundred dollars.

Clearly, I’m in the wrong damned profession.

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