Page 7 of Stay Toxic

BRECKEN

One month ago

“Hey, Ms. S!” A kid from the band came running in. “Watch!”

I grinned when I saw one of my favorite band students, Casey.

Casey was a senior this year, and I was sad to see him go at the end of the year.

I had five more months with him until he graduated in May and I was so incredibly sad.

He’d asked me if I had a funny prank that the seniors could pull on the school, and I’d told him about one I’d seen on social media a few weeks ago that included the band following the principal around everywhere he went for the day.

They were supposed to start over an hour ago, but the practice for band had gone long, and the teacher had been reluctant to let them go to make a ruckus with the school. WhenI’d promised the assistant band director that I’d be responsible for them, she’d reluctantly allowed them free rein.

Which obviously led to now.

I was in the break room laminating some work pages that I wanted to do next week, and definitely not watching the band like I probably should’ve been.

“Hey Coach!” I chirped. “Come in here. I forgot my phone in my classroom, so you’ll have to share yours.”

“What are we watching?” Coach Shepherd asked.

Coach Shepherd was the newest football coach for West Dallas High School. He was cute, perpetually smiling, and way too young to be the head football coach. But he knew the right people, and since our old head football coach had been caught in a scandal with a student, they’d needed a replacement fast.

In came Coach Shepherd with the ink barely dry on his college degree and his history of being a star quarterback for A&M University.

I had a feeling that he was scared, but I knew he’d make it. He had the drive.

He wanted to be there.

He also knew his stuff.

“Senior prank,” I said. “The marching band is going to follow the principal around today.”

“Oh, nice,” Shepherd said. “Our school prank was putting the principal’s car onto the roof of the gym.”

“How’d you get it up there?” Casey’s eyes widened.

“One of the seniors had a dad that owned a crane company,” he said. “Where are you live from?”

“The band’s social media page,” Casey answered, moving in closer to me to show me his phone.

Shepherd pulled his up, too, and he grinned when he saw all the comments start rolling through.

“This page is popular,” he mused.

“West Dallas won the Marching Band Invitational last year,” Casey explained. “Bands are pretty big down here. Not as big as football, of course, but big enough that…”

He kept talking, but I focused on the screen.

I watched the band stomp toward the building that housed the principals and secretaries.

Though, likely the secretaries were out to lunch.

The vice principal usually lunched off campus with her husband who worked in construction down the road, meaning no one but my fiancé would be inside.

Which was exactly how I wanted it.

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