Page 17 of The Friend Game

“Yes,” Jill tilts her glass my way, “to Hannah, who I know is going to be the best art teacher Grace Canyon has ever seen.”

“Even if she is technically underqualified,” Brooke leans in to add with a wicked grin.

“Hey!“ I reach over the table to swat her on the shoulder but she dodges me. Some of her drink sloshes out over the top though, I note with satisfaction, staring a bit morosely at my own glass. Tomorrow is my first official day at Grace Canyon, so I’m drinking plain old water. I almost ordered a Shirley Temple, but then I remembered I’m 25 not 10.

Plus, I had a Shirley Temple last time I was here. If I’m not careful I’ll get a reputation as a Shirley Temple drinker.

I don’t know why exactly that’s a bad thing, but it is.

“Ignore her, Hannah,” Jill instructs. “Being technically underqualified is far better than actually being underqualified. And you are definitely qualified for your job. You know more about art than, than…” she searches for a comparison. “Leonardo da Vinci, ” she finally finishes.

Brooke snorts, and I shake my head.

“Fine,” Jill amends. “Maybe you don’t know more about art than da Vinci, but you definitely know more about it than anybody I know.”

Another lie. Jill met my ex, Marshall Donovan, a handful of times, and Marshall truly does know more about art than possibly even da Vinci.

“Thanks, Jill.” I choose to ignore her hyperbole. “I appreciate your support.”

“You’re welcome.” Jill takes a sip of her post-sickness orange juice. “I’m proud of you lil' sis. Even if I am a bit disappointed I didn’t get to run the campaign we’d planned out for you.”

This is not the first time she’s said this. When she got home from work on Wednesday she instantly bombarded me with questions about my interview. When I told her everything thathappened, I swear her shoulders slumped for a full ten seconds before she managed to put on a smile and congratulate me.

“I guess I’ll have to cancel that button order I put in,” she’d said as l helped her make a salad for dinner. “They were going to sayHannah Garza, finding her way into your heart through art.”

“One of my jazz students is running for president of her fifth grade student council,” Brooke offers. “You could help her run her campaign.”

“Nah, that’s too easy. Promise her fellow students she’ll push for longer recesses and Hostess products in the cafeteria and she’ll win by a landslide.” Jill sighs, blowing her bangs up with her bottom lip. “I want a challenge.”

“Working for Max isn’t a challenge?” Brooke asks.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love working with my husband, but now that he’sinoffice the challenge is gone. He’s so straitlaced and likable he barely needs me. I want a scandal, you know?”

“A scandal?” I laugh. “You want your husband involved in a political scandal?”

“Not a major one or anything,” Jill amends quickly, her face pinkening. “Obviously I don’t want him to get a DUI or have an affair or something.”

“Obviously,” Brooke says dryly.

Jill tosses her hair and lifts her chin haughtily. “I just meant, would it kill the man to get a speeding ticket or, I don’t know, grossly under tip a waitress?” She gestures to the bar around us, where two waitresses are circling tables and filling orders. Brooke’s eyes narrow. “Not your waitresses, of course,” Jill hurries to add. “Anyway, let’s talk more about Hannah. I heard a rumor that you spent Friday night chatting up Pastor Abbott.”

“A rumor? You heard a rumor about me?“ I ask in a slight panic. Based on the last year of my life it would be totally on brand for me to start a new job with rumors already circulating about me. But given the fact that I’m trying to rise from the ashes of my former life, I’d greatly prefer not to play a starring role in Grace Canyon’s version ofRumor Has It.

“Sorry,” Jill laughs, “rumor was a poor word choice. Max just mentioned the two of you were hanging out at the Harvest Fest.”

“Ooo-oo,” Brooke sing-songs. “Are you crushing on a pastor at the school, Hannah! Now there’s your scandal, Jill. Does he know your little certification secret? Because I’m pretty sure pastors frown on lying.”

“Hannah said Principal Novak told her not to tell anyone else,” Jill supplies unhelpfully.

“We would never work anyway,” I say dejectedly. “If we got married then I’d be Hannah Abbott. Hufflepuff.”

“What?” Brooke says at the same time Jill says, “Who said anything about marriage?”

I choose to address Brooke’s question first. “You know, from Harry Potter. Hannah Abbott. She was in Hufflepuff. The first one to get sorted in Harry's year.”

Brooke snorts. “Ah, right. I do remember that now.”

“Has he even asked you out?” Jill interjects again.

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