Page 24 of Make You Mine

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“Miss A’gosto, please present yourself to the teachers’ lounge immediately.”

The voice over the megaphone is clear and loud, sending chills down my spine.

Oh, God. What’s happening?

Okay, so it’s better than being called to the principal’s office, but I’m definitely getting fired.

They never, and I mean, never, call a teacher over the megaphone unless they’re in trouble.

The bell just rang, announcing our lunch time, and my heels click as I hurry to the teachers’ lounge.

Sweat forms at the back of my neck.

My hands are fidgety, so I keep them in the pockets of the white knit cardigan I’m wearing today.

Compose yourself, act normal. Pretend you have no idea what they’re talking about.

This has to be about my missing journal. They probably found it somewhere in the school premises, read it, and I’m about to have an intervention of some sort, where they’re going to push me to leave.

Flashbacks of college and that presentation turned hell by Kayden busy my head, and my heart rate quickens.

I thought I was over it.

I—Can I do this? Can I stand my ground for this?

Crap. No. I⁠—

I pause, cement my feet to the threshold of the room, and take a deep breath.

This is fine. It’s nothing like that. This isn’t college. This is a workplace. We’re mature adults.

They wouldn’t do such a thing, right?

Inhale, exhale. It’s okay. It’s fine.

“Here you are,” Principal Schultz announces my entrance into the teachers’ lounge.

Regina, the receptionist, who’s standing vigilantly by the door, closes it behind me.

I clear my throat. “Y-yes.”

As I expected, my coworkers are in the room as well.

Principal Schultz is holding a marker and approaches the big whiteboard behind us, in the center of the room.

“Good. Sorry about the loud call,” Principal Schultz continues. “You were the only one absent, so we had to get you here fast. I don’t want to take up too much of anyone’s lunch time.”

“Right.” I smile awkwardly.

I have no idea what this is about, and I could still be getting fired. But it seems…I’m not?

My suspicions are confirmed once Principal Schultz presses the marker against the board and writes in big capital letters—ANNUAL CHARITY EVENT.

“That’s right, fellas.” Principal Schultz adjusts the tie on his maroon suit. “We’re two weeks away, and you know, here at St. Ambrose High, we like to go big or go home, so I’m going to be needing ideas for this year. What are we doing?”

My pose relaxes, my breathing regulates. This had nothing to do with me.