Chapter 2

The radio roared to life with the Jeep, Trent Reznor wanting sex, and Shane smiled. Reznor was pretty hot. That was a much better way to start a Monday morning than listening to Bryan sing about how fucked-up life was.

When the song ended, he turned off the radio and pulled his cell phone from his pocket, pushing buttons. Ordinarily, he didn't do much talking in the Jeep because he drove it with no top or the soft top and it was loud that way. The hard top helped muffle the sound.

After two rings, a woman answered with the call letters of the station.

"This is Just N. Thyme," he said, giving the name under which he'd played drums for Bryan's band, Painted Ghost, before the others took off for California in pursuit of fame, fortune and lots of women. "I wanna talk to Keith."

She giggled. "Hold on," she said. "I'll put you through."

Seconds later, the D.J. picked up. "Yo, Baby Bro," he said.

Bryan and the other members of Painted Ghost had called him that on stage because they were all several years older than he was. Over time, others had picked it up, until that was used to refer to him more often than the stage name. It was widely rumored that he hated the name. Then again, he professed to hate the other band members, the audience and the media as well.

"You're on the air," Keith said. "What can I do for you?"

"You could maybe start with slittin' your wrists," Shane said.

"Whoooooa," Keith said. "Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the crib this morning."

"You pissed me off," Shane said. "What the hell you doing, playing that depressing 'Let Me Start Over' crap at five-forty-five in the morning? Especially on a Monday? And furthermore, on a Monday morning at five-forty-five when I was up past three, doin' the nasty? I am warning you. Don't let it happen again."

"Yeah," Keith said. "I must've been out of my head. You willing to let it go?"

Shane remained silent.

Keith cleared his throat. "Alrighty, then," he said. "Now that we got that straight, is there anything you wanted to say to our listeners?"

"Yeah," Shane said. "I just got one thing to say to them." He paused a moment, giving the engineer time to get ready for the bleeps. "They're nothing but a bunch of fucking asshole Bryan Black wannabes and he's a lying, pussy-chasing sack of shit, and every one of them can lick my dingleberry-encrusted cornhole."

"Well, little man," Keith said, snickering.

"Don't you fucking call me that!"

"Don't hold back."

"I will come up there and rip out your goddamned windpipe and shove it up your over-used ass."

"Tell us how you really feel."

"I feel like shit, man," Shane said. "I need some beer."

"You're not getting it from me. You're under-age."

"I don't need it from you," Shane said. "I'm on my way to your house. Your old lady said she'd gimme some if I fuck her. I just wanted to call and make sure you were still at the station, so I'd know how much time we had. It's cool you're there. I prob'ly got time to do her mouth, her pussy and her ass before you get there and I have to hurt you." He disconnected.

He made several turns and then followed a deserted, tree-lined, two lane road. The school slowly came into view beyond the edge of the trees. Once he could see the whole of it, he stopped and looked. Hilldale High School was a behemoth of brick and mortar. The original building, constructed in the sixties, was a straight shot, three stories high. New wings had been added as they were needed and the overall structure now was a square.

He'd seen it a few times over the years and it had meant something to him, being his father's school. Now it was different. It was his school, too.

He put the Jeep back into gear and headed for the parking lot. As he pulled into one of the many empty spaces in the faculty parking area, his phone played "Please Come to Boston." He smiled and took Bryan's call.

"Hey."

"Hey, Ghost," Bryan said. "Just wanted to call and say I'm thinkin' of you today."

"Thank you," Shane said. It wasn't surprising Bryan remembered that was his first day at the school. That was the way Bryan was. The things that mattered to Shane always mattered to him. Still, it was about four in the morning, where Bryan was.

"But... you know... if you hate it, and I know I shouldn't say this but I hope you do, then get your little ass out here, baby."

"After the way you ditched me?" Shane said, laughing. "Fuck you, man!"

Bryan's response was an evil laugh. His tongue-in-cheek version of Painted Ghost's departure from Maryland had the band members sneaking away in the middle of the night, leaving behind the obnoxious and troublesome Baby Bro so they could make a new start. In reality, Shane had helped negotiate the recording contract, bought the touring bus in which they'd departed, and hugged them all goodbye. Watching them drive away had been among the hardest things he'd ever done. They had dreams, though, and he wanted them all to come true. He just didn't have the same dreams they did.

He didn't want to tour. He didn't want to deal with the crowds or the scrutiny that would come with fame. He'd wanted to stay in Maryland with Julianna, to keep building on the foundation he'd begun. His dream was something he hadn't known since he was six years old--a normal family life. He'd wanted the wife, the children, and the little, white house with the picket fence. He had the wife now. The huge, brick house wasn't at all what he'd envisioned, but he could live with it since Julianna liked it. The children--he hoped someday he and Julianna could adopt. First, though, they had some issues to resolve.

"You ought to see what you're missing," Bryan said, and began describing the hotel. Label head and producer Gary Kilgorne had put a lot of effort into the band's meet-and-greet schedule. Every time Shane and Bryan talked, lately, Bryan described the digs-du-jour, which invariably were part of a five-star hotel or somebody's mansion.

Shane couldn't have cared less about the hotels and mansions. He knew what he was missing--Bryan Black and the other members of Painted Ghost. He missed them almost desperately at times. They'd been a daily presence in his life, co-workers and pseudo-family, since he was fourteen years old. Now they were gone and their departure had left a huge hole in his life. Shane had never been much for socializing but spending time with people he loved, making music, had become his way of life. Now it was gone.

Julianna had complained about the time he spent with the band but, in the time since Bryan and the others left, she'd shown little interest in spending time with him.

He didn't have to be lonely. There were friends he could call, people he could see if he wanted to, but they all had their own interests and their own lives to live. What he missed most about Bryan and the others was living a life together. He'd never actually moved into the band's house--there was always too much noise and bustle there, and he'd needed his quiet time--but it had still felt like the home of his family, a place where he was welcome anytime and always felt like he belonged, a place where a person had the option of laying his problem on a table for everybody there to help fix.

He'd known he would miss Painted Ghost. He just hadn't known quite how much.

A blue Ford pulled into a nearby space and Mary exited. She saw Shane and waved. He lifted his hand. Mary looked toward the building but didn't go there. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking ill-at-ease, and returned her eyes to Shane. They needed to go in. It was almost seven.

"You been to bed yet?" Shane asked when Bryan paused for breath.

"No," Bryan said. "Stayed up. Was scared I wouldn't wake up to call you if I went to bed."

Shane smiled. "I'm glad you called."

"But you need to go."

"Kinda'," Shane said.

"All right, baby," Bryan said, then laughed. "Guess it would kinda' suck if I made you late for your first day after I called to give you luck for your first day. So, you have a good day."

"'Night, Bryan."

Shane disconnected and put his phone into his pocket as he exited the car. "We ready?" he said as he walked to Mary's car.

"As ready as we're going to get, I guess," she said, squaring her shoulders. An English teacher, she had the look of a small-town librarian, from the brown bob to the chain on her horn-rimmed glasses. She was cute, in a bookish sort of way, but a little on the sour side.

They walked together toward the building.

"How much do you want to bet Dan's already in there, ingratiating himself?" she said.

Shane laughed. He probably was. What else would an ass-kisser be doing in those circumstances? During the superintendent's visit to the orientation, Dan had monopolized the man's time, asking all kinds of intelligent-sounding, stupid questions, many of them related to advancement potential. The man hadn't worked a day yet and already wanted a promotion.

The doors were locked. Shane pushed the bell and, when the buzzer sounded, opened the door. Mary's footsteps echoed in the wide, empty, beige corridor as they made their way toward the office.

Shane opened the office door and followed Mary inside. The first thing he saw was Sadie Plankett's smiling face. Since she was only about his height, only her old-lady-blue-haired head and shoulders showed over the high counter. "May I help you?" she said, her green eyes twinkling.

"It's our first day," Shane answered, playing the game.

"I'm sorry, young man," she said. "I can understand your eagerness to get started here at high school. But students don't start until next week."

He gave her the finger.

"No," Mary said, unaware of Shane's nonverbal response. "We're teachers."

A red head along with an upper torso appeared as a second woman behind Sadie's counter stood. "This must be Miss Greene and Dr. Fetters."

Mary turned to Shane with wide eyes. "You've got a PhD?"

"Bought it on eBay," Shane said.

The middle-aged redhead continued, "I hope Sadie hasn't offended you with her presumptuousness, Dr. Fetters."

"Naw, I'm good," Shane said. "But I'd rather go by 'mister.'"

"As you wish," she said, though her tone made it seem as if he'd offended her by stating his preference in titles. "I'm Geraldine Restern, executive secretary. This is Sadie Plankett, my assistant. Sadie will show you to the conference room. Mr. Hallock will join you shortly."

Sadie led Shane and Mary down the corridor and opened the door to the conference room.

Dan shot to his feet when the door opened but, after realizing who was entering, settled back into his chair.

"Morning," Shane said.

Dan gave both of them nods of acknowledgement. Shane couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him. It must be a terrible thing to be that desperate to succeed. Since learning that they'd both be teaching math at the same school, Dan had wanted to play the one-up game.

"There's coffee and doughnuts," Sadie said, gesturing to the side table. "Help yourselves."

"Thank you," Shane said, heading to the table.

"They're from Jimson's," she said, naming his favorite doughnut shop.

He remembered, as he chose an apple fritter, that it was a very good feeling to be loved.

He settled himself at the table with his coffee and doughnut. Sadie had gone and the three teachers-to-be sat in silence for several minutes.

"Can I ask you something?" Mary asked, fixing her eyes on Shane.

"What?"

"Exactly how old are you?"

"Twenty."

"And you've got a PhD?"

"What?" Dan said.

"The woman in the office called him 'doctor'," Mary said.

"You've got a PhD?" Dan demanded.

"Yeah."

"At twenty?"

"Yeah."

"In what?"

"Applied math."

"And you didn't see fit to tell us this?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It just didn't seem like something we needed to talk about."

"How much are they paying you?"

The doorknob clicked. Dan shot to his feet. Shane and Mary rose more slowly as the principal, George Hallock, entered the room. Shane had met Mr. Hallock during an interview as part of the hiring process. He came across as a no-nonsense kind of man, which Shane supposed might be the right kind of persona for a high-school principal. Still, he had the sense Mr. Hallock was playing the part and that there was a great deal more to his personality than he readily showed. Mr. Hallock shook Mary's hand and then Shane's before turning his attention to Dan, then they settled into their chairs.

The principal talked for close to two hours, giving a quick overview of the school's forty-year history and talking in-depth about the current situation. The student body that year would number about twenty-seven hundred. There were fifty-nine teachers, twelve of them in the Math Department. Eventually, he entertained questions. Mary asked a couple and Dan asked a few. The principal fixed his eyes on Shane. "Do you have any questions, Mr. Fetters?"

Shane shook his head. There was a lot he didn't yet know about how the school worked, but he'd prefer to learn as he went. It had been his experience in life that, the fewer the things that were explicitly stated as rules, the more things one could get away with doing.

The principal took them on a tour of the school, introducing them to others as they went. They found the guidance counselors in a meeting and met all nine of them at once. They were cordial and welcoming but, when it came to Shane, it was all false. Their smiles were too rigid, their welcomes too hearty. Their eyes betrayed them with hints of emotion ranging from derision to something closer to fear. Shane felt the tension in their handshakes and in the air around them.

When he was young, he hadn't known how to read people. Hard experience had taught him that they often looked and sounded on the outside very different from how they were on the inside and that they didn't always say what they really thought. He'd spent a year of intensive focus developing his interpersonal skills and had since continued working to expand and refine them. It had all gotten easier once he understood about the more subtle verbal and aural cues and made the connections between them and the feelings of the energy waves in the air. He'd come to realize that the energies, which he'd always sensed but hadn't known how to interpret, were more reliable indicators than the ones people could better control. He knew he still wasn't an expert on reading people, but sometimes he did seem to pick up on things other people didn't. He thought that was probably because he paid more attention--because he had to.

He thought it likely one or more of the guidance counselors had been brought in at some point when the county was deciding whether to hire him. The decision-makers might have wanted counselors' perspectives about whether he would be an appropriate hire for the classroom. He didn't have to wonder what they would have answered. The only one who didn't try to hide behind a mask of friendliness was Faith Rush. She met his eyes with a look that was almost challenging and a half-smile that said she'd be watching him. A tallish woman with dark hair and eyes--maybe a Spanish or Caribbean influence, he thought--she portrayed the graceful balance between professionalism and genuineness. He felt more comfortable with her honest dislike than with the pasted-on cheerfulness of the others.

"If there's anything I can do to help you get settled, please let me know," she said to the newcomers.
She seemed to really mean it. Even better, she seemed intelligent enough to actually be a potential help to a person in need.

"You'll be working closely with Fawn Martin, Faith's sister," the principal told Mary. "She's one of our English teachers."

They continued their tour. On the second floor, the principal led them into the classroom that would be Shane's. As Shane stood surveying his new domain, the reality sank in. He was a teacher. He'd have been content to stay there the rest of the day, but the principal led them on until they'd covered all three floors. Finally, he took them back to the office.

"If you have no further questions," he said, "I leave you to get settled."

Shane was glad to hear those words. He was eager for a little quiet time in his own new space. He turned for the door.

"Mr. Fetters," the principal said, "I'd like you to remain for a few minutes."

Shane went still, wondering what the principal might want with him. It could be so many things.

Evidently, there'd already been a major blow-up among Board of Education members over the issue of hiring him. After learning about his history with Painted Ghost, some of the members had felt pretty strongly that someone with his past shouldn't be allowed to teach in one of their high schools. They'd wanted him, but only if they could put him in an administrative role where the superintendent could keep a watch on him and where he'd be separated from the students. He'd turned down that offer. He wanted to be a teacher, not a bureaucrat. Eventually, the decision had been reached to let him be a teacher, but there remained some dissenters. Maybe they'd managed to swing the rest of the board to their view. Or maybe they'd all found out about the phone- and internet-sex company he ran. He didn't think they had. He thought he'd buried that reality under sufficient layers of subterfuge that it would be hard for anyone but a highly trained and exceedingly motivated investigator to discover. There also was little chance they knew about Daye Stark and his involvement in the local BDSM scene, which was a good thing for him. No doubt they wouldn't want their daughters learning calculus from a man who gave cunnilingus lessons on the weekends.

He followed the principal into the inner office and watched as he closed the door, wondering if that was a bad sign.

The principal gestured him to a chair and then took his place behind the desk.

"I understand you have a black belt and teach karate," the principal said.

Shane nodded, suspecting where the man was going.

"And you also teach self-defense classes with the county?"

Shane nodded. The focus of those classes was to help women protect themselves from rape.

"So you clearly would know how to restrain someone without hurting him."

"Yeah."

"Well, as you can imagine, we occasionally have incidents, altercations between students. There are a few teachers I call on to help get those situations under control without hurting our students. I wondered if you might be willing to help."

Shane was quiet for a moment, trying to decide how to answer.

"It would require a training video and signing a few papers," the principal said. "I'll understand if it's not something that interests you, but we could really use the help."

Shane finally spoke. "I won't go in restrooms or locker rooms when students are there."

The principal studied him, clearly wanting to ask why, but uncertain whether that would be overstepping his bounds. Curiosity won. "May I ask why?"

"I'm not comfortable around nudity." The answer wasn't nearly that simple, but that should suffice. It was true that among the last places he'd ever want to be was in a room full of testosterone-pumped, naked males. Just as importantly, though, he didn't want to take a chance on the school or county ever being held accountable for letting Daye Stark lay eyes or hands on vulnerable youths' bare bodies.

The principal was quiet for a moment, evidently hoping for an expanded explanation, but then spoke. "All right," he said. "You're off the hook for restrooms and locker rooms. Will you do it?"

Shane nodded. "I can do it."

"Good," the principal said, nodding in satisfaction.

"We done?"

"There were a few other matters I wanted to discuss," the principal said. "We're going to need to appoint a new lead for the Math Department."

"What happened to Mr. Garrett?" Shane asked. He'd been head of the Math Department and had interviewed Shane along with Mr. Hallock. He was a kindly old man with rheumy eyes and unsteady hands.

"He retired," Mr. Hallock said. It was a straightforward enough answer, but he didn't quite meet Shane's eyes as he said it, and he shifted a little in his seat.

"Unexpectedly?" Shane asked.

"It wasn't a complete surprise," Mr. Hallock said. "But rather suddenly."

"Is that why Dan got hired?" Shane asked. When he'd interviewed, he'd understood that there was only one math opening at Hilldale.

"It is," Mr. Hallock said. "We were one short after Mr. Garrett left. Anyway, we need a new department lead. And I hoped you would agree to do that."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I do not know the first thing about teaching high school math," Shane said. "And I certainly do not know how to lead a high school math department."

"You have the degrees."

"Education is a poor substitute for experience."

"I know," Mr. Hallock said on a sigh. "I know. I didn't want it to be this way. I thought... you could be here, learn for a time, and then take the position. But Mr. Garrett left and now I have no department lead."

"But you've got how many returning teachers to choose from?" Shane said. "Ten?"

"None of them is right for this job."

"So you can't get any of them to take it?"

"That's not what I said."

"Okay, fine," Shane said, "maybe they're not ideal. But they'd be a hell of a lot better in the job than I would."

The principal sighed and leaned back in his chair, studying the ceiling. "That might be true for the first few months, while you're finding your way," he said. "But what this job requires is an innovator." He lowered his head and fixed his eyes on Shane. "If I put someone else into that job, I would need grounds to remove them in order to put you into it. I don't want to deal with that. Because we hired you for that job, Shane."

"That is not the job for which I applied, George."

"Nonetheless, it is the job I had in mind when I fought to get you here."

"Did Garrett know that?" Shane asked. "Is that why he left?"

Mr. Hallock sighed. "He needed to retire."

"Were you actually going to push him out of the job to put me in it?" Shane said. "Look for grounds to remove him?"

"Well, I hoped it wouldn't come to that," the principal said. "But I wouldn't have had to look. He was not performing satisfactorily. He should have been replaced years ago."

Shane pushed up from the chair, pacing. He didn't at all like the idea that the old man had ended his career that way. He told himself it wasn't his fault, and it wasn't--at least, not directly. But it might not have happened if he hadn't applied. He'd barely met the man and he'd ruined his life.

The air in the office felt stifling. He moved to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I'll be back," Shane said.

He walked for a time on the school grounds and then moved into the woods. He sat with his back against a tree, working to regain his sense of peace with the world. He didn't want education to be a cutthroat profession. He wanted it to be noble and true.

Why hadn't Sadie told him there were issues? Surely she knew. If only he'd known, he could have told Hallock early on he didn't want the job, and everything would be all right now.

He needed to know the old man was all right. His hands shook as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He prayed he would do no harm in calling.

The call was answered in his voice--his latest computing masterpiece, Ziggy. "What?"

"Call connect."

"Specify parameters."

"Name, Roger Garrett. Employer, former, Dane County. Employment location, former, Hilldale High School. End parameters."

The ringing came immediately and Shane smiled. Ziggy was getting faster at analyzing connections to draw conclusions. His upper body rocked while he waited for the answer.

"Hello?"

"Hi," he said. "Mr. Garrett?"

"Speaking."

"This is Shane Fetters."

He heard something like a smile in the old man's voice. "Well, hello, Dr. Fetters. How are you?"

"I'm doin' okay," Shane answered. "How are you?"

"Doing quite well, thank you," Mr. Garrett said. "I was hoping you'd call. Otherwise, I intended to track you down in the next week or two."

"What for?"

"To see how you were doing."

Shane bit his lip. "Not so good," he confessed, amending his previous answer.

"I'm listening."

"It's my first day at the school."

"And Mrs. Restern was a witch?"

Shane laughed. That was just how Sadie had described her and he thought, from the few moments he'd spent in the woman's company, it probably was true.

Mr. Garrett spoke again. "And George wants you to lead the Math Department?"

"And I have no desire to do such a thing and no idea how I'd go about it, even if I did."

"You don't like being in charge?"

"No."

"Willing to step up when needed?"

"Most times."

"Then I suggest you do that now," Mr. Garrett said. "Because if you don't, you'll soon find yourself part of a group led by someone less intelligent, less qualified and less dedicated. And I don't think you'd be very happy that way."

Shane spun a twig between his fingers, watching the blurs it made. "Why aren't you here to save me from that?"

Mr. Garrett laughed. "I'm not there largely because I don't want to be that," he said. "And I don't want to think of someone else moving into that job and destroying what I've accomplished there. I have faith that you will be wise enough to know what's worth keeping. Now. Take the job. Do so with the certainty that, given what I know based on your documentation, phone calls to references, and the interview, I am convinced you are the right person for that job. And come see me on your way home today."

"Thank you, Mr. Garrett."

"I look forward to your visit," the old man said, then gave the address. "So I'll see you this afternoon?"

"I'll be there."

"See you then."

Mr. Garrett disconnected.

Shane thought Mr. Garrett probably would have made a damned fine professor.

He pressed the buttons to dial Julianna.

"Hello, there, sexy," she answered.

He smiled. "Hello, beautiful."

"You having a good day?"

"It's goin' okay," he said. "The principal asked me to do something and I figured I'd talk to you first."

"Tell me."

"He asked me if I would head the Math Department."

"You're kidding."

"No."

"So what does this mean for us?"

"Well, it might mean a few extra hours on work now and then," he said. "Not a whole lot, I don't think, but I didn't want to do it without checking with you."

"Any more money?"

"He didn't mention any," Shane said. "So I think this kinda' just falls into the 'other duties as assigned' category."

"You should ask for more money."

"So it's okay if I do it?"

"Of course it is," she said, and giggled. "My husband's not just a teacher. He's head of the Math Department."

"Okay, then," he said. "Guess I'll go tell him."

"Shane?"

"Huh?"

"You won't fuck this up, will you?"

He closed his eyes, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "Hope not." He'd fucked up in a lot of ways in his life, but he'd never failed in academic or professional pursuits. He couldn't pinpoint the exact time-frame when Julianna started thinking of him as an all-around fuck-up, but he was pretty sure it happened right around the time they got married.

He'd failed at one stupid thing, the sex, and it seemed like she thought he couldn't do anything right anymore.

"I'm proud of you," she said.

He smiled. "That means a lot to me."

"So what time will you be home?"

"Not sure," he said. "It'll be late for a school day, though. Sometime after seven, I guess."

"Why so late?"

"I gotta do stuff in the class. Then I got an appointment to talk about the department stuff."

"Okay, then," she said. "But I miss you."

"Miss you, too, Jul."

"'Bye," they said at the same time, and he disconnected.

He hoped he could keep Julianna proud of him. If he could be an acceptable husband in some ways, it might help compensate for the areas where he was lacking.

His heart felt a ton lighter on the way back into the building than it had when he left. He still had no overwhelming desire to be in charge, but Mr. Garrett had pegged him right. He'd do it if it meant saving the Math Department from someone who'd only piss him off or get in his way. He had a little problem with incompetent authority figures.

He gave Sadie and Geraldine a smile as he made his way back into the main office, moving toward the principal's door.

"What are you doing?" Geraldine demanded.

"I told him I'd be back," Shane said. "I'm back." He knocked.

"Come in!" the principal called.

"He doesn't like to be disturbed," Geraldine said as Shane opened the door and moved through it. "When you want to see him, you are supposed to tell me so I can buzz him and tell him you are here."

Would he be any less disturbed if Geraldine were the one doing the disturbing? And would he really prefer an obnoxious buzz over a quiet knock, especially at a time when Shane had told him he'd return? Shane didn't think so. He thought it more likely she enjoyed being the gatekeeper.

A loud, harsh, buzzing sound came from the principal's desk, Geraldine's exclamation point.

"It's best not to make her angry," Mr. Hallock said as Shane closed the door, but he was laughing. "She's in the payroll chain."

Shane laughed, but the whole situation made him a little sad. Sadie had once been executive secretary. She'd stepped aside when she realized she was slowing down. She'd been eager to pass the job to someone with more verve and happy to do so early enough that there'd be a few years of overlap so she could teach her replacement the things she'd learned in her long history at Hilldale. Then her replacement arrived and, almost from the start, treated her like a half-wit. Now Sadie felt she couldn't retire. She didn't have the heart to abandon the school under Geraldine's reign. Shane hoped Mr. Garrett hadn't left because he feared ending up in a position like Sadie's.

He leaned his back against the door. "I'll take the job."

"Excellent," Mr. Hallock said, opening a drawer in his desk. He pulled out a four-inch binder and slid it across his desk. "Mr. Garrett left this."

Shane reverently lifted the book and skimmed the pages, knowing he held Mr. Garrett's four-inch summation of a long career--or at least the parts he'd deemed appropriate to put in writing. Some of the pages were computer printouts. Others were hand-written, the ones with early dates much more legible than the later ones. Still others were yellowed relics from the days when typewriters ruled the desk. It would take a long time to digest all that Mr. Garrett had compiled. "Thank you," Shane said, closing the book. He almost hugged it to his chest but then realized he was doing it and diverted the book, holding it down by his thigh as a man would. "I imagine there are some people who aren't gonna be happy to hear about this."

The principal nodded. "Now that I have your answer, I plan to call the members of your department to let them know. That will give them some time to get accustomed to the idea before they arrive," he said. "The curriculum for this year was finalized in the spring. I know you've already received a copy. Like you, the others were instructed to spend some time over the summer thinking about ways to implement it. Once they arrive, all of you will need to discuss the potential implementation plans and submit a proposal for my approval. By Thursday afternoon."

Two days, Shane thought. That gave them only two days.

"That's how we'll begin," Mr. Hallock said. "Of course, I'll submit our plan to the superintendent's office. They may come back with adjustments." His gray eyes shone as he smiled. "If you have any questions, have Geraldine buzz me."

"I'll do that," Shane said. "Are we done?"

"I need to ask something else." He lifted his pen, tapping the point against the blotter on his desk. "Would you consider cutting your hair?"

"No, Sir."

The principal nodded resignedly. Shane was pretty sure he'd expected that answer.

"Would you pull it back?"

"No."

"We're concerned it could prove a little distracting to the students."

Shane laughed. With all the the things kids had going on in their lives to distract them, he couldn't see his hair ranking high on the list. He wanted his hair the way it was. He didn't want people seeing his scars. Besides that, in an ironic way, he looked more feminine when his hair was pulled back than he did when he had it for camouflage. The way he wore it helped draw attention from his eyes and accentuated the squareness of his surgeon-designed jaw. Beyond that, it pressed the material of his loose, cotton shirts flat, making it readily apparent there were no female breasts there. Over the years, he'd seen countless people on the streets conducting visual scans on him, so he was well familiar with the eye trajectories. He always liked it better when they stopped at the face or chest rather than traveling lower to make the assessment. He was pretty sure he'd be a much greater distraction to the kids if they were trying to figure out what the hell he was.

Shane had personal reasons for keeping his hair the way he wanted it but he had equally personal reasons for not wanting anyone to know that. "You make all the women with long hair pull it back so they won't distract anybody?"

"No," the principal said, bristling at the implication of disparate treatment. "We do not."

"Well, I guess that covers that subject, then."

"I suppose it does."

"Anything else?"

"Not at the moment."

"All right," Shane said. "Guess I'll go check out my classroom."

"About that," the principal said. "If I were you, I wouldn't spend much time decorating."

Shane laughed. "You saying I'm not gonna last long here?"

"You might not, if you keep telling me 'no'," the principal said through his smile. "But that's not why I said that."

"Why, then?"

The principal adjusted his glasses, lifted a paper from his desk, and began reading. "You'll see."