“I’m so happy I found you.” She seems a tad flustered, and her face has that beet-red overlay she used to get when Principal Miller reprimanded her for not refilling her stapler.

Working without that dictator will be a nice change. Let me tell you, pregnant women do not like it when they have to give up coffee—something we all paid the price for.

“What’s up?” I keep walking because we’re going to be late if we don’t hurry.

“We need you to introduce Principal Radcliffe.” She peers behind me then pushes up on her tiptoes to whisper in my ear, “Malcolm, I mean Vice Principal Ealey, called in this morning. I think he was still…”

Fay doesn’t have to finish the sentence. Malcolm Ealey went through a public divorce last year and has been spending a lot of his time at the Lucky Tavern, drowning in a helluva lot more than his sorrows. That’s why, even though he should have become our temporary principal, the school board decided to hire someone new.

“Why me?”

She hands me a piece of paper. “The kids look up to you, and everyone thinks that the kids will welcome Principal Radcliffe if you introduce her.”

Her. Another woman. Hopefully this one is well-caffeinated and not pregnant. We’ll all stand a better chance that way.

I accept the piece of paper, looking over what I need to say. “Fine.”

I’m not scared of public speaking. I’ve got two teenage girls at home. You don’t know a hostile environment until you’re trying to break up a fight between those two.

“You’re the best, Austin.” Fay squeezes my forearm then walks down the hall.

My footsteps slow as I read over the new principal’s bio. What the hell is a Yale graduate doing in Alaska at Lake Starlight High School? After skimming over her education, I fold up the paper. I can wing it from there. Besides the kids couldn’t care less about what’s printed on that sheet.

Heading into the auditorium, I search out the face of our new principal, but I know everyone here.

“Her meeting with the superintendent is running a tad late, so if you could stall, I’ll tap you on the shoulder when it’s safe to announce her,” Fay informs me.

“I’m not a zoo keeper.”

Fay laughs.

I will not miss this part of my job next year.

Before I realize it, I’m in front of the podium, clearing my throat and introducing myself, as if everyone here doesn’t already know who I am. Sedona rolls her eyes and looks away. I have no fucking clue why she’s so embarrassed of me. I mean, look at me. Six foot two, two-ten, short, neat haircut. I work out four times a week, hike, bike, ski. My muscles aren’t from just the gym…