Page 4 of The Love Simulation

“If you aren’t leaving after all, does that mean the money for the library isn’t really gone?” she asks.

I snap my head up but don’t ask Mrs. Yates to repeat herself. I heard every word loud and clear, and now there’s a sour churn in my stomach that seems to make an appearance every time Principal Major is up to something.

I stare straight at Mrs. Yates with my best game face on. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I promise you, I’m going to find out.”

Chapter Two

The school’s front doors have opened, ushering in the familiar sounds of kids laughing and shoes scuffing against the floor as I approach the administrative suite where the assistants’ and Principal Major’s office are, feeling like the world’s biggest fool.

I still couldn’t bring myself to meet Roman’s gaze before leaving the teachers’ lounge. It kills me that I was so ready to show up at the upcoming party because it washimwho asked, when I would’ve had no problem saying no to any of the other teachers. Nine months of formality should have told me there was something more to his change of attitude. I got my hopes up, and it’s left me feeling low and sad. Like the girl who just got duped by the cool guy. This could be my villain origin story. But as I come to stand in front of Principal Major’s door, I try to block the image of how open and inviting Roman seemed and suppress every last ounce of emotion as I prepare to do battle with his dad.

I knock on the door and hear a faint “Come in.” Steeling myself, back straight and chin up, I turn the knob and walk in.

“Good morning,” says the cheerful voice at the other end of the room, and I narrow my eyes. Even if I weren’t already on edge, Principal Major’s greeting would have beenmore than enough to let me know something isn’t right. “Just the young girl I wanted to see.”

And now my left eye is twitching. This man just cannot help himself, but I learned long ago that it’s a reaction he’s looking for. He’s like a poorly trained dog who’s learned that bad behavior is rewarded with attention. With each interaction with him, I have to remind myself of that so I don’t slip and say something about not being able to teach an old dog new tricks.

I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m glad you’re happy to see me, because we need to have a serious conversation.”

“We most certainly do.” He looks too eager as he leans forward, with his elbows on his massive oak desk. “There has been some moving and a few shake-ups with the new middle school set to open in our district for the next school year. I heard from the principal at Angelou School of Arts. She’s still looking for a vice principal. I’m sure you’ve heard how they’ll be doing all that New Age learning. No homework. Classrooms with chairs on the floor instead of real desks.” He barely suppresses rolling his eyes. “It seems right up your alley. Well, I already put in a good word for you, and they’re eager to talk more. You’re welcome.”

I wonder, where did he get his audacity? They don’t have it at Amazon or Walmart. I’ve checked. And yet, he’s got it in spades. So assured of what he’s saying, like it’s a foregone conclusion.

“Why would I take their vice principal position when I’m perfectly content here? This is my job, and these are my kids, however much you may wish otherwise.”

“Are you perfectly content here, Miss Rogers? Really?”

“Of course,” I bite out automatically.

Everyone seems to be on a roll with the ridiculous questions today.Am I leaving? Am I really content here?The realquestion is, why wouldn’t I be? This has been the exact change of pace I wanted after I realized that being a guidance counselor wasn’t the fulfilling career I hoped it would be. As vice principal I get to help everyone. Teachers and students. It’s only on the rare occasion that an unshakable sense of wrongness hits whenever I pull into the school parking lot, and that I attribute to the stress of dealing with Principal Major.

It’s impossible to drum up any excitement in working with the man who told me during our first meeting, “You weren’t my choice for vice principal, but don’t worry. I don’t expect you to be here for long anyway.”

The nine months younger, bright-eyed Brianna had no idea why he didn’t like me on sight. Was it that he wanted someone older than thirty? Someone taller? Was it my braids? Come to find out, it was all of the above, plus the fact that I’m not his son. Principal Major wants me gone so Roman can take my place and has been doing all he can to make my year here miserable. Too bad for him my career plans don’t involve getting bulldozed over by a bully. If he wants to be my biggest hater because I’m ruining his plans to rule the school with his precious boy, he can stay mad while I work my way to the top.

“Yes, I am content here,” I repeat. “In fact, I love it.”

Principal Major stares, clear skepticism crinkling the corners of his eyes, and I know he doesn’t believe me. I meet his gaze straight on to prove how serious I am, fighting that uncomfortable tinge I get whenever I have to look at him for too long. He’s not an exact older version of Roman, but the broad nose and honey-brown skin tone they share make the resemblance unmistakable. Seeing Roman makes my heart rate soar, but having anything to do withPrincipal Major makes me think I need to schedule a doctor’s appointment for high blood pressure.

“Anyway,” I say, and clear my throat. We could face off all day, but I need answers. “What is going on with the library remodel? Mrs. Yates told me it’s been scrapped, but there’s got to be some kind of misunderstanding.”

“Oh, no. There’s been no misunderstanding.”

I stare at him for a full minute before finally gritting out, “Come again?” That sour pit in my stomach is back and stronger than ever. I know I’m going to hate whatever comes out of his mouth next.

“Mrs. Yates is correct. We’ve made the decision to scrap the library remodel and go in a different direction. We’re going to upgrade the football field.”

For a few seconds there’s only silence between us as his words register, then all I can do is laugh. Full-on belly-cramping, tear-inducing, breath-shortening, cheek muscle–quivering laughter. I laugh so much that I have to grip the edge of the desk so I won’t fall over. A football field upgrade for middle schoolers in place of a library is the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard. When I finally get ahold of myself, I straighten up, ready to congratulate Principal Major on finding his sense of humor. Then I get a good look at his face, and the hilarity of this situation is gone. His face hasn’t cracked so much as a smile line.

I wipe away the moisture from the corners of my eyes, hoping by the time I’m done here they don’t turn into real tears. “Youcan’tbe serious,” I say.

“Of course I’m serious,” he says with a frown, likeI’mthe one being irrational by thinking this is some huge joke. “When enrollment opens for the new middle school and students who straddle the line between our zone and theirsget a choice of which school they’ll go to, how do you think that will go down?” He holds up a finger to keep me from responding. “That’s a rhetorical question, by the way. They’re going to pick the new and updated school every time. There’s got to be some reason kids want to come here, or we’ll lose our funding. Do you think bonds just come along every year? That’s another rhetorical question. No, they don’t. So I’ve decided to keep this school relevant and the money coming in. We’ll be known for our state-of-the-art football field.”

I shake my head. “There is so much wrong with everything you said. I can’t even…State-of-the-art football field? These are middle schoolers! No one is looking to draft them. They don’t even have a choice in what high school they go to. This would be the most ridiculous use of money I’ve ever seen.”

He looks me up and down and scoffs. “Says the young girl in a onesie.”

My face heats, and while I have to admit to myself that having jeans on hand for this conversation would have been immensely better, I don’t back down. “It’s called school spirit, get in on it! Better yet, get a clue. These kids don’t need a new football field. They need a functioning library. They need new books and computers. You said the library remodel was a sure thing. You—” I abruptly stop talking as my voice begins to shake.

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