Gathering my arsenal of retorts, facts, rules, and explanations, I thunder down the hall to the main office and bang on the open frame of the Dragonlady’s door.

The reptile queen glances up at me from her mountain of treasure, a.k.a. the growing personnel file with my name on its tab. “Come in. Leave it open.”

I do. Without waiting for an invitation to sit, I take the chair and throw my ankle over the opposite knee, letting my balls hang low off the front of the seat. I’ve had it with the bullshit in this school, and I’m not going to let this bitch intimidate me anymore.

Dragov finishes writing something on a paper in front of her, then faces me. “Darcy and Keith Kuntz will be joining us momentarily.”

What the hell do they have to do with personnel issues?

On second thought, this might be even better than I expected.

Smiling to myself, I grunt a noncommittal response and keep my focus on the Dragonlady, searching her scales and the slits of her pupils for weakness.

She’s gonna be a tough one to crack, but she’s not gonna mess with the woman I love.

I’ve been ruminating on The Three Words that popped into my head the day Roxie had her breakthrough with the class, and I decided I’m not afraid of them. I’ve even grown to like the sound of them when I repeat them in my head. And I’m gonna use them on her. Soon.

High-pitched, cringe-inducing laughter rolls in as Darcy and Keith duck into the office, a two-headed monster to rival the Dragonlady.

Bring it, bitches.

“Good afternoon, Darcy, Keith,” Dragov says. She gets up and closes the door as the couple sits. “I brought you here to discuss the rumors you two have been hearing on eighth grade—”

“Save it,” I cut in. “We all know what the rumors are, and they’re true. I was seeing Roxie Rambling.” It feels weird to admit it, but a trickle of pride drips through my chest when I do. “What’s the problem?”

Keith clears his throat. The pussy won’t say anything until his wife gives him permission. Judging by the nonverbal bitch-slap her narrowed eyes just whacked him with, he’ll keep silent for the duration.

Good boy.

Darcy leans forward and lays her hand on the arm of my chair. She addresses me with the Boston-accented, slow, clear tone of a teacher reprimanding a student. “Now, I don’t mean to staht any trouble—”

I don’t even bother to hide my snort. “Yes, you do, Darcy. But by all means, go ahead. Defray the trouble.”

She purses her lips and turns her head like she’s somehow offended by the pungent smell of truth.

“There’s no call for rudeness,” Dragov says, her voice steady.

“Just stating the facts,” I reply calmly, drilling my gaze into Dragov’s clear blue eyes. “I’m curious to know why you’ve invited two other teachers to a personnel meeting about me, though. If you have a problem with me, shouldn’t we be discussing it in private?” I tap my chin thoughtfully. “This breach of privacy concerns me deeply, especially since it appears to be founded on rumors—your word—flying around the eighth grade. That might be viewed as a breach of ethics, or worse, should the matter reach the human resources department. Am I wrong?”

Dragov narrows her eyes and targets me in her sights. It’s a battle of wills now, and that bitch has no idea how strong mine can be when I’m defending something—someone—I love.

“The Professional Standards Commission Code of Ethics, 505-6-.01(3)(g), states that educators must comply with confidentiality laws concerning personnel records. I’m pretty sure your beef with me has nothing to do with them.” I tip my head to Team Hydra.

Dragov takes her time shifting her gaze to Kuntz and Kuntz. “That’ll be all.”

Darcy gets up with a suppressed huff and Keith ducks like a submissive dog, sniffing her ass on the way out.

“Oh, and Darcy,” I call after her.

She pauses and tosses her head my way, haughtiness smeared all over her face.

“Thanks for breaking Isabella and me up eight years ago with that phone call you placed from my phone, pretending to be my girlfriend. If not for your petty attempt at ruining my personal life, I might not have had a shot at someone immeasurably better. If Roxie and I ever decide to get married, you’ll be at the top of my guest list.”

“I don’t know what yuh talking about.” Darcy has the audacity to pretend to be offended as Keith levels a puzzled expression on her.

“No?” I say. “Forgot so soon? Well, lucky for you, I don’t have much proof aside from what one former student remembers, but I did dig up some dirt on the Teacher of the Year contest you hijacked last April. Why don’t we ask Kristina King what she knows about that? You remember our old computer lab teacher. The one you got Dr. Dragov to transfer to tech services? I have her new number at the district office on speed dial.” I pull out my phone from my pants pocket. “Shall I call her so we can get the facts straight?”

Darcy’s neck lengthens as she swallows.

“What’s this about?” the Dragonlady asks, leveling Darcy with a suspicious stare.

Darcy twists her arms over her chest like a pissed-off pretzel and lifts her chin. “I have no idea.”

I grin. “I was hoping you’d say that. Allow me to clear the air.” I dial Kristina, hit the speaker button, and lay my phone at the edge of Dragov’s desk.

“Technology Services, this is Kristina King. How may I help you?”

“King, this is Jack Slater from Bracken Middle. You’re on speaker with Dr. Dragov and Keith and Darcy Kuntz.”

“So nice to hear from you, Slater,” she says. Then as a distasteful-sounding afterthought, “Darcy. Keith.”

I lean back and mirror Darcy’s pose, casually crossing my arms. This is too delicious. “I’m wondering if you’d be willing to share what you found on Mrs. Kuntz’s computer during your last virus scan and software update.”

Darcy’s eyes widen for a second, then tighten to a beady, sneaky weasel size. Her clenched jaw twitches. Looks like she’s halfway to grinding her teeth flat.

“Ah, yes,” King says, a smile in her voice. The sounds of mouse clicks tap through the speaker. “During a routine scan of the computers in your building yesterday, I received notification of viruses in several of Darcy’s files. Viruses aren’t that unusual, but as I went through the files to investigate, one of the names caught my attention: ‘TOTY Ballot.’”

The color drains out of Darcy’s cheeks like spaghetti water through a colander.

The room falls silent.

I savor the look of pure horror on Darcy’s face as long as I can stand it. Then I say, “And what might a file called ‘TOTY Ballot’ be doing on last year’s Teacher of the Year’s computer, I wonder?” I stroke the stubble on my chin and pretend to think really hard. “The assistant principal is in charge of creating, disseminating, and counting those ballots, is he not?”

Darcy’s upper lip quivers.

Keith shoots her a worried, kicked-puppy look.

Dragov’s dragon eyes narrow yet again as she rests her tightly set jaw on folded talons.

“Yes,” King agrees, a quiet lilt of appreciation in her voice. “In all my time at Bracken, the VP always handled Teacher of the Year stuff.”

“Did you open the file?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“What did it contain?”

“Looked like a Teacher of the Year ballot with the same names as last year,” King says smugly.

“Someone must’ve planted it they-uh,” Darcy stammers. “I don’t know anything about it.”

“Feel free to check it out in her documents folder, Dr. Dragov,” King says. “If you click on info for the file, it clearly shows Darcy Kuntz created the file last April, the day after ballots hit teachers’ boxes. You can even see when she made modifications. That’s not something you can fudge.”

I picture King with her punk-rock blond hair, tossing her feet on the desk and filing her black-tipped nails with a huge smile on her face.

“You can’t just break into people’s comput-uhs,” Darcy protests. “They-uh’s private infuhmation on they-uh.”

King tsks. Actually tsks! God, the balls on her. I love it.

“Uh, uh, uh,” King warns. “Everything you type on district computers is property of the district and subject to scrutiny at any time, without warning or notice. You signed an agreement stating your consent and acknowledgment of those policies when they were set in place. Everyone did.”

Dragov turns to Darcy and speaks in a low, dark tone. “Step outside and have a seat. Do not leave the main office.”

“Sharon, I—” Darcy protests.

“I’ll deal with you shortly,” Dragov snaps and waits for her and Keith to go.

Darcy shoots me a venomous glare on the way out.

“Cheers!” I shove a thumb up with an exaggerated grin.

I slam the door in her face, then turn back to Dragov to resume my defense. She suddenly looks extremely uncomfortable. And a couple inches shorter on her throne.

“Anything else I can help you with?” King asks through the phone. “We here in Technology Services live to serve.”

“Please preserve whatever evidence you collected, Miss King. I’ll be in touch with you soon,” Dragov seethes.

I snap up the phone, switch the speaker function off, and say, “Thanks, King.”

“Tell Savage it was a pleasure doing business with him,” she replies breathily and hangs up.

Hell’s bells. Did Savage hook up with King? For me? Holy spitfire!

These are questions for another time. I pocket my phone and face Dragov, ready to resume hammering her. I have plenty of nails.

“That was petty and vindictive,” Dragov says quietly.

I shrug. “So was Darcy’s stuffing of the Teacher of the Year voting box in her favor and ruining my relationship. What of it?”

“Rest assured, I’ll get to the bottom of both matters.”

Yeah. Right.

But even if she doesn’t, there are now witnesses. And evidence. I can make my points to the higher-ups if Dragov flounders.

Dragov seems to collect herself and returns to the notes on her desk. “We were talking about your student teacher.”

“Yes, we were. I read through the Professional Standards Commission’s ethics documents,” I continue as if the Kuntzes had never been there. “By dating my student teacher, I may have toed the line of propriety, but I haven’t broken any formally stated rules. She’s twenty-one, a legal adult, as am I. While it may not look good for us to be involved romantically, there’s nothing in the posted literature that says we can’t be.”

I lower my foot to the floor and revel in the heavy swing of my burgeoning balls.

“Mr. Slater, I’m going to say this off the record and then we’ll discuss your future at Bracken Middle,” Dragov says, lowering her arms to the desk and leaning closer. “I think it’s inappropriate for you to date your student teacher, and a lot of others in this building do too. But you’re right. There’s nothing I can do to stop you. That said, I’ve already warned you that one more strike will signal your permanent exit from the school and the district. You’re walking a dangerous line.”

I grin. “Well, I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge.”

“Consider this challenge,” she spits. “If your ‘relationship’ with your student teacher continues to cause disruptions in this building, I will have her removed and sent to another, more qualified teacher. Just because you have tenure doesn’t mean I can’t make your life hell.”

I nod slowly, my blood amping up to boiling. “And just because you’re the principal doesn’t mean I can’t expose you for playing favorites and sabotaging the valuable work that goes on here. It would serve you well to remember that we teachers stick together, and we have long memories. You’re the new kid on our block, not the reverse.”

I stand and casually dip my hands into my pants pockets, balling them into fists as soon as they’re hidden. “Are we done here?”

“For now,” she says like a mustache-twirling villain in a Bond movie.

I walk out without a glance at the Kuntzes sitting in the main office chairs like naughty children and resist the urge to skip down the hall.

The look on Darcy’s face when King dropped the bomb was some positively priceless shit.

When I get to my room, Roxie, Witcher, Love, and Vino are scattered around a group of desks pushed together, scribbling on a sheet of poster board. A concept web written in bright markers consumes almost all the white space. As I join the group to see what they’ve jotted down, excitement takes the reins from revenge.

“You guys have been busy,” I remark. “I thought we were doing this on Saturday.”

“We came up with some ideas and decided to get a jump start,” Roxie says. She’s in work mode, scratching notes on papers and adding to lists. Her enthusiasm is contagious.

Love looks up at me. “This is good, Slater. Really good.”

I stare at Roxie, pride and awe swelling in my chest. “I know.”

A little ridge forms between her brows as if she just remembered where I’ve been. She pauses and lowers her pen. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s great.” I blow off her concern and gesture to the web of ideas. “How can I help?”

Roxie’s smile returns as she scoots her chair over to make room for me to join them.

And for the first time since I moved to sixth-grade hall, we work together as a team—a real, cohesive team like I had in eighth grade—and brainstorm the shit outta what we’re gonna do for the next several weeks.

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