Two wheels stayed on the pavement while the other two edged over the side, cutting a deep groove into her lawn. Summer took a millisecond to sigh in relief and then rammed the gearshift into reverse and backed out of the driveway. With a hiss and a cough, Beulah turned over. Luckily for Summer, it was March in Austin, and the temperature was in the sixties. The pickup, aka Beulah the Bitch, only worked when the temperature was below seventy or a Republican was in the White House. Summer shoved the key into the ignition and hoped for the best. Perhaps the fact she’d been standing amongst the coaching staff had put her at a disadvantage. She had no idea her view that school funding should actually be used on education instead of football would be so wildly unpopular. They needed to, in his words, “have a little chat.” No doubt this was about her outburst at yesterday’s staff meeting. Not only had her alarm clock failed to ring in the morning, but she was meeting Vice Principal Evans in her room before school.
On a good day, she made it in ten minutes before the bell, but today wasn’t a good day. Teachers were supposed to be in their classrooms a minimum of thirty minutes before morning classes started at eight o’clock. Through the windshield, cheery morning sunshine glared disapprovingly down at her. With a can of Diet Coke in each hand, she jumped into the cab of her grandfather’s 1959 Chevy Apache pickup and stowed the drinks in the two plastic cup holders she’d super-glued to the dashboard. It was seven forty-two, and Summer Ames was late. And last but not least, for Linda Green McCaffity, one of the teachers who made a difference in my life, may you have an endless supply of chick flicks and Mexican food in heaven. For my mother, you are the person I strive to be. For the Chez Zee crowd-dessert is always a good idea. For the Shady Grove crowd-y’all are the best friends a writer can have. For my daughter, thank you for writing your first novel at the age of five-Jessie the Jellyfish is a wonderful tale. For my husband, thank you for always being my hero. This book wouldn’t have been possible without the love and support of many people.
All characters portrayed herein are fictitious and are not based on any real persons living or dead.įor teachers everywhere…you make a difference every day. No part of this work may be reproduced in any fashion without the express, written consent of the copyright holder.
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