Mrs. Robak hasn’t changed in the four years I’ve been gone. Well, three and a half. She still has straight, honey-brown hair and intense green eyes that see a lot more than you want them too.

I guess people wouldn’t change in such a short bit of time. In the office with her is Mag Bradley. She works here full time now too. When I was in school, she spent her summers in the offices doing paperwork and stuff. She’d stop into classes sometimes, but not often. Mag is a Baxter, just like Mrs. Robak, and the family owns the school. Mag went to a normal high school and never had to worry about not having a family, or them kicking her out, or needing to avoid gangs and prostitution on the streets. But, I’m not judging them, because these two do a lot of work to keep this school going.

“As you know,” Mrs. Robak says after we discuss what I did in college and make small talk, “the school year starts the first Tuesday after July 4^th and goes until May 31^st. Teachers have the entire month of June off, as well as a week in the fall, from December 23^rd through January 2^nd and a week in the spring.”

I nod. I know the schedule. It was my schedule for over two years of my life. Except our breaks were just hanging out. The teachers got to leave here. I had no desire to leave Baxter for any reason.

Was that why I wanted to teach here so badly? It was familiar. It’s where I got my shit together and where I finally felt safe.

She glances at my transcripts again. “I see you majored in music, with a concentration in voice, and minored in English with education.” Mrs. Robak looks back up at me. “What about piano?”

“I couldn’t fit it in my schedule, and I already know how to play.”

“But you applied for a position that includes teaching piano.”

I was hoping she wouldn’t notice that. “I taught piano to voice students who couldn’t afford tuition for classes but needed to learn how to play.”

Mrs. Robak nods. “That’s a nice way to earn a little extra income.”

“It helped.” It kept me from starving.

“Do you plan to continue?”

“No. I will begin student teaching after the first of the year. I’ll have to give up that and my part-time job at the bookstore.”

Mrs. Robak leans back. “Two jobs and a full load of classes and you’re just shy of a 4.0.”

My face heats. “I wasn’t going to mess up the chance I was given.”

She places the papers back on the desk and leans back in her chair. “We always begin advertising for positions this time of year but usually don’t begin to interview until the spring.”

“Why me and now?”

She smiles. “The other applicants are going through a thorough background check before I even begin to consider them for an interview.”

“I suppose you know my background.” At least it didn’t keep me from getting in the door.

“It’s the very reason we want you here.”

I sit up. She can’t be offering me the job? “Look,” Mag begins. “We get a lot of great teachers. You had some of them. But, we lose a lot too.”

“Our contracts, at least the first one, is only for six months for that reason,” Mrs. Robak adds.

A half a year contract?

“A lot of them can’t cut it,” Mrs. Robak explains.

“They want a normal school with normal kids,” Mag says with an apologetic smile.

“They quit?”

“Some can’t handle the anxiety attacks, meltdowns, or withdrawals, or understand why kids are behaving a certain way, or need to be out of class for a few days until meds are adjusted,” Mag says.

“You’ve already sat in those classrooms. You applied already knowing what can happen in your classroom on any given day at any given time.”

I hadn’t even thought about how some teachers may react if they come from a more sheltered world. If I try to look at it through their eyes, there had to have been some kind of culture shock.

“It’s the reason you are at the top of our list,” Mrs. Robak says and my eyes pop open.

“You have the credentials. All you need is the student teaching. You know what you’re getting, and we already know you.”

“Wow.” I blow out a sigh.

Mag grins. “So, if everything goes as we anticipate it will with your student teaching, we’d like you to start here the last week of June.”

“You won’t need to be here the second week like the other teachers who need to go through orientation because you already know what we need to explain to them,” Mrs. Robak adds. “The week you will join us is to discuss rules and regulations of the school, confidentiality, and topics that are Baxter specific.”

I just look from Mrs. Robak to Mag and back again. I can’t believe they’ve offered me the job. I hoped they would but was too scared to actually get my hopes up.

“Well, you haven’t given us an answer.”

“Yes!” I blurt out.

Mag’s cellphone rings and she grabs it, then excuses herself.

As I stand, Mrs. Robak’s phone rings. “It’s security.” She frowns and answers, then listens for a bit. “Let them look around, I’ll be down.” She clicks off the phone and looks at me. “Apparently there are six guys who have been wandering around the gallery. That’s not a problem, but they’ve been there a long time, checking their phones and just hanging out.”

My face heats and I hope I didn’t just lose the job because I brought six guys with me to an interview. “They are Alex Dosek, Christian Sucato, Dylan White, Zachary Hawk, Ryan Stark, and Sean Vines.”

Her eyes go wide as a sentimental smile forms. “Why would they be here?”

“I saw them yesterday, and they insisted on driving me.”

Mrs. Robak laughs. “We should probably go rescue them from the security guard.”

I follow her outside and across the campus toward the gallery. You can enter it from inside the campus or the parking lot. Anyone entering from the parking lot can’t get to the campus without a special code because this place is locked down tighter than most jails.

She stops and looks at me oddly. “Did you say Alex Dosek?”

“Yeah.” I laugh.

“How long have you been hanging out with him? The two of you used to hate each other.”

“Since I ran into him yesterday.”

She shakes her head and keeps walking. “The others. You were friends with them. Did you stay in touch after you left here?”

I laugh. “Nope. I hadn’t seen them since they graduated until yesterday either.”

She stops at the door and punches in a code. “Sometime you’ll have to tell me how running into them led them to driving you here!”