herself of Homer’s age and position before she replied. “Two, I’m only using two of your people.”
“Sure, but how about all the teachers who are too upset to teach their classes?” Homer’s tone was sarcastic.
“I did suggest hiring some floating subs for today,” she reminded him, keeping hold of her temper with great difficulty.
“It’s not in the budget.” Homer sat back in his chair and shook the hair out of his eyes. “Did you know the co-op is going to charge us for the people they sent over? You didn’t have authorization to request help. We may have to take that from your salary.”
Skye opened her mouth and closed it without speaking. She glanced at the silent coordinator. She could swear he had a smirk on his face. Between gritted teeth she muttered, “Fine. Now, about some help for Opal . . .”
Homer sighed. “Who did you have in mind?”
“Coach,” Skye answered. “It’s his guidance counselor day, and since he has refused to do any crisis counseling, and the guidance office is occupied, he’s just sitting around in the teachers’ lounge stirring up the faculty.”
“He won’t like this,” Homer said.
“Really? And I’m having such a good time today myself.” Skye knew she shouldn’t be so sarcastic, but it had just slipped out, and she couldn’t back down now.
“Okay, Coach can answer phones.” Homer leaned back in his chair. “You stop and tell him on your way back to the guidance office.”
“I think it would be better coming from you.” Skye pushed the phone toward Homer. “For some reason, Coach thinks I’m out to get him.”
As Homer dialed and spoke, Skye smiled. She loved a twofer—help for Opal and a way to keep Coach out of the guidance office.
After the principal got off the phone, Skye said, “Did you know that the police were here and tried to question the students?”
“No, that must have been when we were . . . ah . . . at that special meeting we had to attend.”
“Right.” Was that the one Ronald McDonald chaired? Skye tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “Anyway, what will we do when they come back?”
“I’ll check with the school lawyer and see.” Homer reached for the phone he had just pushed aside. He spoke for a while, and after he hung up, he said, “Nope, Bob says not to let the police question the students. The law is unclear, but we could be in trouble if the parents could prove we were negligent in protecting their child’s rights. Either school personnel or a parent must be with the child when he or she is interviewed.”
“Better let people know because Wally will no doubt return any minute.” Skye waved and backed out of the door. Without warning, she felt icy fingers grab her arm. She yelped and spun around.
Kent Walker’s pale blue eyes stared into hers.
“Oh my gosh, Kent, you scared me to death.” She shook off his arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Are you aware that the police chief is interrogating some of the students right here in school? I tried to sit in with the kids as he questioned them, but one of his storm troopers threw me out.”
One thing she had liked about Kent was his high level of involvement with the students. So why didn’t what he had just said sound right? She didn’t have time to think about it now. “Show me where they are.”
Kent guided her down the hall to the Home Ec room. The space was divided into two. The half nearest the door was filled with sewing machines, several teens, all of whom avoided looking at each other, and the police officers who were guarding them.
The other half of the room was set up as the cooking area, and Wally had confiscated this section for his interviews. The heavy stoves and refrigerators that formed a wall between the two areas filtered out most of the conversation.
Skye marched through the sewing area before the police could stop her. The officers were quicker where Kent was concerned, and nabbed him as he tried to follow her into the
“Sure, but how about all the teachers who are too upset to teach their classes?” Homer’s tone was sarcastic.
“I did suggest hiring some floating subs for today,” she reminded him, keeping hold of her temper with great difficulty.
“It’s not in the budget.” Homer sat back in his chair and shook the hair out of his eyes. “Did you know the co-op is going to charge us for the people they sent over? You didn’t have authorization to request help. We may have to take that from your salary.”
Skye opened her mouth and closed it without speaking. She glanced at the silent coordinator. She could swear he had a smirk on his face. Between gritted teeth she muttered, “Fine. Now, about some help for Opal . . .”
Homer sighed. “Who did you have in mind?”
“Coach,” Skye answered. “It’s his guidance counselor day, and since he has refused to do any crisis counseling, and the guidance office is occupied, he’s just sitting around in the teachers’ lounge stirring up the faculty.”
“He won’t like this,” Homer said.
“Really? And I’m having such a good time today myself.” Skye knew she shouldn’t be so sarcastic, but it had just slipped out, and she couldn’t back down now.
“Okay, Coach can answer phones.” Homer leaned back in his chair. “You stop and tell him on your way back to the guidance office.”
“I think it would be better coming from you.” Skye pushed the phone toward Homer. “For some reason, Coach thinks I’m out to get him.”
As Homer dialed and spoke, Skye smiled. She loved a twofer—help for Opal and a way to keep Coach out of the guidance office.
After the principal got off the phone, Skye said, “Did you know that the police were here and tried to question the students?”
“No, that must have been when we were . . . ah . . . at that special meeting we had to attend.”
“Right.” Was that the one Ronald McDonald chaired? Skye tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “Anyway, what will we do when they come back?”
“I’ll check with the school lawyer and see.” Homer reached for the phone he had just pushed aside. He spoke for a while, and after he hung up, he said, “Nope, Bob says not to let the police question the students. The law is unclear, but we could be in trouble if the parents could prove we were negligent in protecting their child’s rights. Either school personnel or a parent must be with the child when he or she is interviewed.”
“Better let people know because Wally will no doubt return any minute.” Skye waved and backed out of the door. Without warning, she felt icy fingers grab her arm. She yelped and spun around.
Kent Walker’s pale blue eyes stared into hers.
“Oh my gosh, Kent, you scared me to death.” She shook off his arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Are you aware that the police chief is interrogating some of the students right here in school? I tried to sit in with the kids as he questioned them, but one of his storm troopers threw me out.”
One thing she had liked about Kent was his high level of involvement with the students. So why didn’t what he had just said sound right? She didn’t have time to think about it now. “Show me where they are.”
Kent guided her down the hall to the Home Ec room. The space was divided into two. The half nearest the door was filled with sewing machines, several teens, all of whom avoided looking at each other, and the police officers who were guarding them.
The other half of the room was set up as the cooking area, and Wally had confiscated this section for his interviews. The heavy stoves and refrigerators that formed a wall between the two areas filtered out most of the conversation.
Skye marched through the sewing area before the police could stop her. The officers were quicker where Kent was concerned, and nabbed him as he tried to follow her into the
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