“I love faculty scandals,” said Stella. “Especially when the participants are too inept to even attempt a decent cover-up. I mean, Deena is the youngest, least experienced teacher in the English department. Like it’s not obvious how she got named head?”
“Right? Clearly it’s the correct job title, though.”
Giggling like girls, the friends joined the small group waiting beside the black Escalade. A young, harried bellhop nodded automatically as the principal explained to him how to load the luggage into the rear of the big SUV. Beside the SUV three women watched the luggage loading with silent semi-interest. When they saw Mercury and Stella, two of the three grinned and waved. The third pursed her lips in an expression so familiar that deep crevices framed her thin lips—pursed or not.
“There you two are!” The tall brunette, whose skinny jeans and cropped top made her look more student than teacher, lifted a cardboard drink carrier that had two paper cups in it. Puppy-ish, she bounced up on her toes as she offered the drinks to Mercury and Stella. “Got you guys your fave.”
“Coffee and Kahlúa?” Mercury asked as she reached for one of the cups.
“Yep. With no sugar for both of you, right?”
Mercury grinned as she took one of the cups from the cardboard holder. “Jenny, you were the best intern I’ve ever had.”
“I’m the only intern you’ve ever had,” Jenny quipped.
“Well, you’re the best new nationally certified teacher I know,” said Stella before she took her own cup and sipped it with a satisfied smile.
Mercury lifted one brow. “You’ve never even watched her teach.”
Stella shrugged. “I don’t have to. She knows how we like our booze coffee. Her attention to detail is clearly excellent, which makes for good teaching.”
Mercury laughed. “Point well made, girlfriend.”
“Do you really think having your ex-intern fetch spiked coffee is the proper way to mentor her as a young teacher?”
Stella curled a lip. “Absolutely. Acorn and I live by the motto: start as you mean to finish. So take your dark, judgmental cloud elsewhere, Karen.”
Karen sniffed disapprovingly. “I don’t know why you insist on calling Ms. Rhodes by that nickname. It really isn’t professional.”
“She’s my best friend. There’s nothing professional about that, which you’d know if you had a best friend,” quipped Stella. “Plus, her dad wasn’t wrong when he nicknamed her. Her hair really is a perfect acorn shade.” Stella reached out to pat Mercury’s wavy, nut-colored hair.
Mercury sidestepped Stella’s hand and muttered, “Stop antagonizing her!” under her breath at her friend, then stifled a sigh and forced herself to smile at the pinched-face teacher. “Good morning, Mrs. Gay.” Mercury always called the history teacher by her last name. She realized it was childish, but she thought it was hilarious that someone so uptight and homophobic had that particular name. “Did you sleep well?”
Karen Gay nodded jerkily. “Of course. Sleeplessness is a sign of a troubled conscience.”
“Or fun, Karen. You do remember fun, don’t you?” added Stella—who always called her by her first name because, as she put it, Karen is such a Karen.
Karen’s only response was a disapproving glance as she straightened her cardigan and smoothed her strictly starched and ironed khaki slacks.
“Oh, look you guys.” Amelia Watson, the last member of their little group representing Tulsa Public Schools, called their attention to the sign “Timberline Lodge Welcomes Nationally Certified Teachers Spring Conference Members” that another bellhop was changing to “Welcome Portland Nike Executives.”
“That’s kinda sad,” she said.
“I don’t know,” Mercury said. “All of this bright cold is wearing on me. It’s pretty, but snow year-round is just not right.”
Stella shook her head. “Please don’t be such an Okie.”
“But I am an Okie!”Mercury loaded the sentence with a lazy twang that sounded like Tulsa on a hot summer day.
“Well, I think it’s nice here. I like the snow and—” Amelia paused, winced, and rubbed her protruding belly.
“You okay?” Mercury stepped closer to the pregnant teacher.
Amelia sighed and nodded as she continued to massage her middle. “I’m fine. He’s just agreeing with me by kicking my ribs.”
Stella studied her. “Are you sure you’re only seven months along? You look big enough to pop any second.”
“Thanks.” Amelia laced her words heavily with sarcasm. “That’s exactly what every pregnant woman wants to hear.”