Page 49 of What You Wish For

Anyway, the man and the dog were not the perfect match.

Once the kids were gone, I watched Duncan practicing obedience commands with Chuck Norris for about five minutes before Chuck Norris ran out of patience and rose up on his hind legs to lick Duncan all over the face.

Were we worried about thekidsagitatingChuck Norris—or the other way around?

Anyway, that wasn’t the last memo we’d get from Duncan that day—only the first of a deluge:

From: Duncan Carpenter

RE: MEMO—NAME TAGS

Please note that all faculty must report to the security department today to register for new, digitized security name tags. Tags will be delivered next week. Faculty must wear their name tags at all times or risk disciplinary action.

From: Duncan Carpenter

RE: MEMO—PARKING SPACES

Please note that all faculty must report to the security department today to register for a new numbered parking space. Once numbers are assigned, they cannot be changed or traded. Faculty must park in their designated spaces at all times or risk disciplinary action.

From: Duncan Carpenter

RE: MEMO—SECURITY QUESTIONNAIRE

Please note that all faculty must check in online today to fill out a new standardized security questionnaire and screening. All surveys must be completed by Friday—no exceptions. Faculty who do not complete their surveys before the deadline risk disciplinary action.

Risking disciplinary action was a big thing with him.

We got maybe nine of these memos before lunchtime. Most teachers I bumped into that morning stopped reading after the first two or three. Which meant by the time “From: Duncan Carpenter.RE: MEMO—CAMPUS TOUR” came around just before car pool, only the most obedient members of the faculty were still paying attention. I was one of them, of course. I read everything. It turned out Duncan needed somebody to walk him around the school, give him the inside scoop, and familiarize him with everything he needed to know.

As I was skimming the memo, I’d said, out loud, “Not it.”

But then every single person who responded nominated me.

Unanimous.

Fair enough. After car pool, I went to Duncan’s office, once the school had emptied out.

He was in another gray suit today. One exactly—down to the weave of the fabric—like the one he’d been wearing before.

Same pants. Same vest. White shirt. Navy tie. And—even though it was August in Texas, which meant it was going to be a minimum of one hundred degrees out—a suit jacket. Buttoned.

Was there a tiny part of me that had been hoping he’d show up on the first day of school in checkerboard pants and a SpongeBob tie?

Absolutely.

But only a very small part.

For contrast, I’ll mention that I was wearing a navy blue polka-dot blouse, an orange pencil skirt, and hot-pink, open-toed sandals. I also wore a long necklace with heavy white beads and I had a pale pink hibiscus flower tucked behind my ear that exactly matched my pink bangs.

I’d worked extra hard on this outfit that morning. To make it, shall we say, memorable.

“We match,” I said, when I showed up.

Nothing about us matched.

“Navy,” I explained, touching the navy part of my blouse, “and navy.” I pointed at his tie.

He knew I was teasing, but he didn’t smile. Just looked me over, taking particular note of the flower over my ear.

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