Page 39 of Past Tents

“Not exactly,” Witty admitted. “But he won’t have a choice. It was a big hit having him in the dunk tank at the Harvest Festival. He was the one who said we needed to make more money. He can’t exactly refuse now that the kids have come up with a way.”

“So I’m gathering you all think this is a good idea, teachers in the kissing booth?” I asked the group as the microwave beeped.

There was some general nodding and agreeing.

I shook my head. “Pretty sure that’s not ethical. We can’t be kissing students, even if it is for a good cause.”

“Of course not,” Nick said. “There would be a separate line for adults. The students would only be able to kiss the homecoming king or whoever. This just adds another income stream. So...you’ll do it?” he asked tentatively. People were still looking at me like an odd specimen, some kind of science experiment egg they were waiting to see hatch in captivity.

Oddly, it didn’t bother me. I was always being offered up as someone’s blind date. At least this way, the school would make money from it.

I shrugged. “Sure. Doesn’t bother me.” I snuck a look at Ally to see what she thought of the idea, but she was smiling down at her phone, tapping with her thumbs. I wondered if she was texting the date she mentioned when we were in the tent the other night.

Either way, I needed to get over it.

The only saving grace to the whole plan was the idea of seeing Principal Pindich in the dunk tank. I’d throw a dozen balls atthe target myself. He’d always been a thorn in my side, trying to cut the track-and-field program every year and making me fundraise on my own to keep it. He pulled the same crap with the cheer squad and the fine arts program. Most of us secretly believed the programs weren’t in danger of being cut, but Principal Pindich knew that threatening was a way to get us to raise money for the school.

Just one of the many reasons no one could stand the weasel of a man. He resorted to sneaky tactics instead of straight up asking for what he wanted. Seeing him swimming in the dunk tank would only be partial revenge for all the suffering he’d put the faculty through, but it was a good start.

The bell rang before too much more discussion could be had about the carnival, and the air filled with the sounds of chairs scraping against the floor and the resigned groans from my colleagues about whatever the first class of the day would unleash upon us.

With my coffee now appropriately heated, I gathered my books and moved back down the main hallway. Moments later, Ally caught up with me, matching my long stride with her short one, which meant she was walking awfully fast. I slowed my pace slightly and tipped my head in her direction. “Hey there.”

“How was the rest of your weekend?”

“Good. It was good.”

We walked past students slamming their locker doors and rushing to classes on another floor. I felt certain that Ally didn’t teach her first block class in the building where I was headed, but she stayed glued to my side.

“Glad to hear it.”

“Thanks.” We strode along in silence after that. When we got halfway down the next hallway, Ally stopped. Even though we hadn’t been mid-conversation, I stopped too. It felt like the lack of motion was conversation itself.

“I meant, thanks for Saturday night. I feel like I didn’t sufficiently express how much I appreciated everything you did to make me comfortable in the wilderness.”

I nodded. “You did.”

“Sorry?”

“You thanked me yesterday. Don’t worry.”

Her brow furrowed. “I sort of ran off. I’ve been feeling badly about it ever since.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“Good.” She extended her hand. “Friends?”

I gestured to my full hands with a sheepish grin and a half-hearted shrug, playing it off as the reason why I couldn’t shake hers. But in reality, I didn’t want to risk touching her and feeling things when she was drawing a clear line for us as colleagues and nothing more. “Yes. Friends. Definitely.”

Then I allowed myself to look at her fully, rather than in the stolen glances I’d cast her way in the teachers’ lounge. Yeah, no. The way I reacted to her had nothing to do with fucking friendship. There was a reason I moved quickly through campus, and this was it. Stopping to gaze at Alexandra Dalbotten was hazardous to my mental well-being. It made it hard to be happy looking anywhere else.

She had her hair piled in its usual bun. Tendrils fell loose as they always did. Her eyes, wide and blue, seemed primed to swallow me up. Like Jonah and the whale. If I thought I had a chance with her, I’d go into battle without a second thought.

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

ALLY

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