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My name wasn’t Betsy. Never has been. It was Betty. Short for Beatrice, my grandmother’s name. But Ms. Wellman made up her own rules, and I stopped trying to correct her long ago.
Dashing down the hallway, I crossed the crowded commons area where the students hung out before the bell, which according to my watch, would be in thirty seconds. By some miracle, I didn’t catch either principal on duty as I zipped down the English/Language Arts wing to my classroom at the end of the hallway.
Finn was draped against my doorjamb, arms and ankles crossed, looking handsome as the devil in his crisply ironed attire and arrogant grin.
“What?” I snapped as I bypassed him to march over and dump my stuff in my desk chair.
“Tsk, tsk. Second time this week you’re late, Miss Mouton.”
“Stop hissing at me. You’re supposed to be my best friend.”
“That’s why I’m warning you. I know how you get your panties in a bunch when Mr. Burke reprimands you. Of course, I think he just likes to get you in his office so he can check out your rack.”
“Shut up. Don’t remind me of that. It wasonetime.”
He chuckled.
“Asshat,” I muttered.
Mr. Burke was a married man, but that didn’t prevent him from being a close-talker or chronic-ogler to all the attractive women on campus. Actually, the only one who wasn’t a victim of his lechery was Ms. Wellman. One advantage of being born in prehistoric times.
The bell rang.
“Thank you for watching my door.” I physically shoved him gently out of my doorway. “Now go to class.”
“I don’t have a homeroom. You know this. And why were you late anyway?”
“I don’t even want to talk about it.” I nodded to two boys in my homeroom and first period class as they walked between Finn and me since we now framed the doorway like two very mismatched sentinels. His tall, lean physique was the opposite of my shorter curvy self. Curvy in the ass and hips, at least.
I wasn’t short-short. Not like my mom and grandmother. They were elf-sized. I was practically a giant at five-five next to both of them. But Finn was a good six-one-ish.
“Good morning!” came my perky hall buddy, Lily Breaux. “Did y’all see theamazingnew grocery store, Broussard Fresh Market? I got a sneak peek inside before the ribbon-cutting this morning, and it isamazing.”
We were opposite personalities, but I liked Lily. Even when she was outshining me with her door decorations, perfectly polished classroom, and fresh-as-a-daisy self. Which was basically all the time since I was seriously low-maintenance when it came to stuff like that.
Now, my classes and curriculum I took very seriously, almost too seriously. I had super high expectations for my students as I did with myself.
This was only Lily’s second year of teaching, and she was bursting with inspiration and excitement. Not that I didn’t enjoy teaching too. I loved it. Lily simply wore the persona of an excitable first-grade teacher. Unlike the rest of us jaded, heartless souls who taught high school English.
“Ohhh. That’s right.” Finn grinned wider. “I forgot it was opening day of the new store. So that’s why you were late.”
The tardy bell rang.
“Bye.” I waved, giving him another shove down the hallway.
“See you at lunch,” he called over his shoulder as he marched back to the Arts and Electives wing.
Finn—Finley Fontenot—taught Drama here at BHS and has been since he graduated from the University of Louisiana at Lafayette six years ago. We’d been close friends in high school but parted ways after graduation when I’d crossed the Atchafalaya Basin to attend LSU in Baton Rouge.
After graduating in Education, I stayed in the city, taking a teaching position in Baton Rouge for a few years. But I discovered something quickly about myself. While I loved going to college there, I didn’t want to live there. I had few friends and no family who stayed in the city. And quite frankly, I missed Beauville.
I loved getting anywhere I needed to go—grocery store, bank, work, gym—in five to ten minutes. And if I wanted something the bigger cities offered like the theater, concerts, or museums, Lafayette was a thirty-minute drive away. New Orleans only two. Easy day trip.
So when Finn had told me there was an English position opening up at our alma mater, I jumped on it. And hell yes, I shamelessly smiled till my face cracked during my interview with Mr. Burke to get the job. I didn’t even care that his eyes kept roaming. Let him get a good, long look because I wanted that damn job.
Of course, I’d break his fingers if he ever tried to touch me. Not exaggerating. After inquiring with a few other teachers, I discovered he was harmless. Just a horndog. An obvious one anyway. Most men were, but they knew how to hide it well.
“Okay, guys,” I said to the class after the pledge and morning announcements were over, “take an index card and pass it around. We’ll do our reading check quiz first.”
