“Have a good weekend, Miss G,” a blonde girl says, grinning at me as she slings a backpack over one shoulder and exits the classroom.

“You guys have a good weekend, too.” I grab the stack of test papers and square them up against the wooden surface of my big desk, making loud tapping sounds.

“Got a hot date tonight, Miss G?” asks Ryan, a cheeky male student who’s asked me out twice already.

“Yep,” I say.

Technically, I do have something to do tonight. I’m having dinner downtown with my parents. That counts, right?

Okay, maybe not. But I’m not about to admit my lame plan to Ryan, especially when it looks like he’d be eager to rectify the situation.

My life’s not perfect, but I don’t think being imprisoned for inappropriate behavior with one of my students is going to improve it.

“Oh man, I thought you broke up with your boyfriend,” he says.

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean I’m going to be sitting at home eating ice cream all weekend. My life’s brimming with excitement.”

“Okay. I’ll try my luck with Miss L.” He laughs and shrugs as he walks away to meet his friends outside, who are waiting to give him consolatory pats on the back..

“Miss Lake?” I ask.

Jessica Lake has stunning red hair, full lips, and big doe eyes. I’m almost flattered that this boy is picking me over her, but then I realize how pathetic it is to get excited about that.

“Yeah,” Ryan says, stopping in his tracks and looking back over his shoulder. “Wait a minute. Are you changing your mind, Miss G?”

“No,” I say, laughing.

“Oh, too bad. There’s this article online that says a girl’s more likely to go out with you if you make her jealous,” Ryan says.

“Yeah, the people who write those articles, they have no idea how to get girls either. They just pretend they do so they can sell advertising space.”

“Oh.”

“And not to burst your bubble, but I doubt you’ll get a different answer from Miss Lake,” I say as I put the stack of test papers into my bag. “I mean, have you seen her boyfriend? Tough competition.”

As the group of boys at the doorway laugh, Ryan goes, “Well, can’t hurt to try.”

“Good luck. Let me know how it goes.” I give him a grin.

These kids are alright, I think to myself as I hear their footsteps going down the hallway outside.

I get along just fine with my students, and based on what my colleagues tell me, the faculty likes my work, too.

There are parts of teaching that I like.

It’s a privilege to have the power to shape impressionable young minds. I can turn these innocent kids into whatever I want, theoretically, if I’m good enough at my job. That’s pretty cool.

On top of that, my parents approve of my profession. They think it’s a good career path for a woman. They tell me it’s good practice for when I have my own kids in the future. It’s supposed to make me more nurturing.

I don’t know about that, though. I like my students, but I treat them more like peers than kids. I’m only twenty-one myself, so they’re not much younger than me.

I mean, I care about them, and I want them to do well. I get excited imagining them growing up and doing things in the world, using the knowledge that I equip them with.

Still, I can’t help but wonder if I would’ve chosen a different path for myself if it weren’t for my parents.

Now that I’m living on my own and only see my parents about once a week, it’s hard to remember why their opinions mattered so much.

But things were really different just a few short years ago when I was a high school kid myself, picking a major out of an overwhelming number of options.

My parents have never been supportive of any decision that veers even slightly from what they consider to be normal.

When I was nine and wanted to pick up skateboarding, they freaked out because I was starting to act like a boy. They made me see a shrink.

When I was fourteen, I cried for days because the popular girls thought my shoes were stupid and made fun of me. My parents had me committed into a mental hospital for a few days, saying I had suicidal thoughts.

So maybe I have to admit that I picked this job because of my parents? That sounds lame, though. It makes me feel so damn weak.

But then again, considering the things my parents have put me through whenever I wanted to do anything out of the ordinary . . . I don’t know.

I can always start over, though. It’s not too late. That’s how I usually console myself.

I’m young enough to get another degree and start on a completely different career path. My parents paid for my education degree, so I don’t even have any student loans to pay off.

On the other hand, I don’t really know what I want.

I’ve lived here in Ashbourne my whole life. Everyone I know is here. I’ve rarely seen the world outside. I want to, but it seems scary to do it on my own.

“Hey, Ava, got any plans tonight?” asks another male voice—an adult, this time. I twist to see Tony at the doorway.

As usual, his blond hair is slicked back with a few stray strands falling over his forehead, threatening to poke him in his bright blue eyes.

He’s wearing a crisp white shirt, a navy-blue knit vest over it, and a black blazer on top of that. Oh, and he’s also wearing a pair of green pants and a blow tie. That outfit shouldn’t work, but somehow he’s pulling it off.

“Dinner with my parents,” I answer honestly. I’m okay with my co-workers thinking I’m uncool.

Tony laughs. “Ditch them.”

“I can’t. They’re not the kind of people I can just ditch. They’re the kind of people who are going to make me pay if I do that.”

“Sorry.” Tony grimaces. “Childhood must’ve been rough, huh?”

“Pretty much.” I shoot Tony a grin.

“I’m meeting Jessica for dinner, and I thought you might want to come.”

“Aww . . . You wanted me to come with you?” I ask.

Nice. I just got an invite from the cool teachers. This second high-school experience is shaping up to be better than my first one. After the way Joseph isolated me from my old friends, I’m in desperate need of new ones.

“Yeah, of course. We’re the only young teachers in the school. We need to stick together against the old farts,” he says.

“I’ll take a rain check.” Quickly, I add, “Please ask me some other time, though. I swear I really do have a plan tonight.”

“Of course,” Tony says. “I’ve been telling my husband all about you and he’s excited to meet you.”

“Oh, he’s coming, too?” I ask.

“Yeah. And Jessica’s boyfriend, too.”

Actually, even though they call it “dinner,” the weekly meal with my parents starts at six and I’m usually home pretty early in the night.

“I was thinking of joining you if you’re going for drinks after dinner, but now I don’t know . . . I don’t want to be the fifth wheel.”

I can’t say this to Tony because it’s potentially offensive . . . but if his husband will be there, it’s going to be tricky for me to tag along with them.

If I go, I’ll have to be careful not to let my parents know about us hanging out together. Also, I’ll have to sneak around behind their backs and make sure there are no photos posted on social media where my parents can stumble upon them.

Like I said, my parents don’t tolerate anything outside the norm.

“You won’t be the fifth wheel. We’re friendly and super inclusive, I promise,” Tony says with a teasing smile. “But unfortunately, there won’t be drinks. Greg and I have to go home before our babysitter’s curfew.”

“Ah, too bad. Maybe some other time.”

“Yeah. We’ll make it happen,” Tony says before he gives me a small wave and disappears into the throng of loud students in the hall, who are laughing, cheering, and high-fiving one another.

It’s the weekend, and everybody’s having fun—everybody, that is, except for me.