Page 5 of Substitute for Love

In classic teenager fashion, the high schoolers rapid-fired questions at Gabe, who stood in a brain fog holding the sub binder. A fog entirely attributable to Avery. Miss Williams. Emphasis onMiss.

“Who was the other sub?” one student asked.

Who indeed?Gabe secretly wondered. He had been a substitute teacher for a while now but she was the first sub not old enough to be his mother.

Not that he minded the older women. All the older ladies who worked at Desert Scorpion High School were happy to see him. Honestly, he flashed a smile and they became putty in his hands. But they also treated him like a son, or a potential blind date for their daughter or niece. Doreen, the office lady, had always given him treats, but not today. The rumbling in hisstomach cursed him for running late and not getting his regular muffin.

He looked down at the binder. Avery was definitely cute. Stressed, but cute. Substitute teaching was not an easy job for most people. Gabe loved subbing. He could show up, make the kids laugh, then go home. Almost like getting paid to be the class clown.

Maybe he could help Avery get through the first-day jitters so she’d keep coming back. Because the school needed substitutes. He was only interested in helping her as a co-worker. NOT because he was interested in her. Yeah, totally not that one.

The bell rang, but Gabe continued staring at the binder in front of him, totally zoned out.

“Uh, Mr. Manwaring? Are you okay?”

He glanced up to find a few students staring quizzically at him; the rest were lost in their own conversations. Right. Teaching.

“Yeah. Let’s get rolling onthe roll,” he said as he pulled out the roster. A few kids snickered.

Gabe was only getting warmed up. He’d been a sub for what, a few years now? After getting a degree in archeology, he’d bounced around a few internships, all the while hoping to get the opportunity to get his hands dirty on a real grown-up archeology project. Instead he got a job at a museum in Phoenix that didn’t pay enough, so he started subbing and never stopped.

“You float through life,” his dad always told him. “When are you going to get a real job?”

Gabe shook the memory out of his head and tried to focus. Which wasn’t too hard because honestly he was more like a kid anyway. Being a kid was more fun. Plus, he got attention forbeing a class clown growing up. Way more attention than he got at home.

“Question of the day is: what is your favorite breakfast food? When I call your name you have ten seconds to give me your answer to let me know you’re present. Levi Adams, go!”

“Scrambled eggs.”

“Sophia Anderson.”

“Protein shake.”

“Aiden Bingham.”

“Cereal.”

“Ethan Byers.”

“Fruit.”

“Branson Clark.”

“Pop Tart.”

“Lily Chavez.”

“Nothing.”

“Justin Daynes.”

“Bacon.”

Gabe could practically guess their answers before they even opened their mouths. He couldn’t exactly say why, he hadn’t subbed for this particular class before, he was just good at reading people. Maybe he was born with the skill, maybe it came from moving a lot, probably developed from being in drama club, or it could even be from anthropology in college.

Okay, correction, he could readmostpeople. Not women his age. But everybody else was easy to read.

“What’syourfavorite breakfast, Mr. Manwaring?” one student asked.

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