Page 41 of My Rules

Lucy’s eyes dart around guiltily. “Um ...”

“Sometimes things accidentally get mixed up,” I say softly. “Don’t they?”

“Yes.” Lucy nods in an overexaggerated way. “I’ll look now.”

I smile and go back to my picture hanging. Kindergarten, the home of cuteness overload and mini kleptomaniacs ... all accidental, of course.

I love my job; I love every single second of every single day ... but only in the mornings, of course. Ask me again in the afternoon when I’ve had a day from hell, and I will tell you I’m resigning tomorrow. Five-year-olds and I have a lot in common: our moods change hard and quickly. Good times turn bad in the bat of an eye.

“Oh look, here it is.” Lucy holds the sharpener up as if she’s just won the gold medal.

Carter scowls and snatches it from her. “I knew you had it.”

“Carter ... what are our classroom values?” I ask him.

Carter rolls his eyes, and his little shoulders slump. “Be kind and understanding,” he mumbles.

“Yes,” I call as I push in the last thumbtack. “That’s right.” I climb down the ladder. “Everyone, grab your recorder and take a seat on the mat, please.” I pull out my desk drawer to grab my music book just as my phone flashes a text. I glance around and then sneakily read the message. It’s from Blake.

We are live, Bambi!

It’s go time.

A surprised giggle escapes me before I quickly hide it. I quickly text back.

OMFG!!!!

I cannot believe we are actually doing this; I throw my phone back into the drawer and take out my music book.

“Let’s go, little people,” I call as I clap my hands. “Everybody sit on the mat.”

Casual as casual can be.

Lunchtime and I’m acting like a spy.

I sit in the lunchroom and discreetly peer at my phone under the table.

Sales: 0

Hmm. I click out of the app.

What if I don’t get any clicks? What if my feet are considered ugly in the world of foot porn?

I mean ... I am only listening to Blake, and maybe he’s biased.

Shit.

I glance down at my feet. Maybe I should have gotten a pedicure. I text Blake.

No sales yet.

Maybe I should have painted my toenails red?

I wait for Blake’s reply, but it doesn’t come, which isn’t surprising. He doesn’t have his phone on him through the day at work.

Damn it, why does he have to be so diligent?

I check my phone again.

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