The Principal Problem

Chapter 1

brIE

Buzz.

My eyes dart to my phone.

“Don’t look at it,” I chastise myself as I park my car in the near-empty lot.

Buzz.

My hand twitches.

Buzz.

I sigh and reach for my phone.

It’s exactly what I knew it would be. The parents of Everett Academy are waking up and continuing the conversation where they left off, as if I can’t see what they’re saying about me.

As if I didn’t create the damn group chat myself.

Well I say good riddance to her.

Buzz.

Teachers are a dime a dozen.

Buzz.

Never heard of anything so trashy.

Buzz buzz buzz.

“I’ll show you trashy,” I snarl, chucking my phone in the passenger seat before I can do something stupid. Like tell all those judgy parents to go to hell.

I remind myself Christopher had me fooled, too.

My phone buzzes again, but I squeeze my eyes shut and slump back in my seat.

With a full-body shake, I blow out a raspberry, forcing all the negativity out of my system. This is fine. Good, even.

I left all those busybodies behind, and this is a fresh start. Two states away.

My eyes skate over the mountains as the sun’s rays bathe it in golden morning light. It makes me want to puke.

Buzz.

Unable to help myself, I reach for my phone.

She probably wasn’t even qualified to teach. Got her job the old fashioned way. On her knees!

My face twists. “Gross!”

I mute the chat and slump back again.

All this nasty gossip behind my back—in front of my back?—should reassure me. It should tell me I was right to quit my prestigious private school job one day into the second semester. That driving here overnight was a great choice.

But it doesn’t. I feel crazy. I’m nervous. And agitated.

It’s entirely possible I am completely out of my mind.

“That’s it.” I scrub a hand down my face. “I’m out of my mind.”

I up and left my entire life in order to, what? Be a substitute teacher? Back in Blue Ridge?

Even my internal monologue goes shrill at the name of my hometown.

When I left fourteen years ago, I thought it was for good. But I can’t afford to go the rest of the school year without work, and apparently Blue Ridge is the only place in the universe that’ll hire me. There’s literally nowhere else to go.

And now that I’m here, I wonder what these people will say about me. I know all too well Blue Ridge is no safe haven, just as gossip-hungry as the parents of Everett Academy.

Especially when it comes to my family.

My stomach is in knots. What am I going to tell the principal here about why I left Everett Academy? I can just picture the news spreading like wildfire. Did you hear? Brie Casey is back with her tail between her legs.

Rubbing my palms into my eyes, I groan. Maybe it won’t be so bad. Blue Ridge looked different as I drove through the sleepy streets to get here. Revitalized and shiny.

I open the visor to check myself in the mirror.

Greasy hair, circles under my eyes, and chapped lips. Cool cool cool.

But there’s no way I can unearth my toiletries bag without being late. Not with the contents of my entire apartment stuffed into my car.

Turning off the car, I brace myself against the cold and march to the double doors.

My feet already know the way to the main office. So much so that I barely pay attention as I trudge down the linoleum and cinderblock halls.

So much so that I almost don’t register the nameplate outside the inner office as I knock on the open door.

No.

Every muscle in my body tightens. My heart plummets through the ground, into the depths of the earth—no—hell.

I really thought being back in Blue Ridge was the worst thing to happen to me.

But there he is, staring right at me, sitting behind the principal’s desk like it’s the Iron Throne.

Sawyer Strong.

The Prince of Blue Ridge, and the bane of my entire childhood.

I’m numb.

And he’s even better looking than the last time I saw him fourteen years ago.

Sawyer was always big, the way high school jocks are, but now he’s broad. Solid.

And those deep blue eyes bore straight into my skull.

His thick hair is styled back except for one careless strand that falls forward over his temple. His face is serious and familiar, but undeniably manly now with dense stubble that does nothing to hide his severe jawline.

This has to be a nightmare. Maybe I fell asleep on the drive down, crashed, and am blissfully in a hospital bed somewhere in Kentucky.

Please let me be in a coma.

I bite my lip hard enough to make it sting, like an idiot who watches too much TV.

Nope. Definitely conscious.

How did I not know Sawyer Strong was the principal?

I dart a quick, panicked glance behind me, toward the hallway.

This was a terrible idea.

I feel it when his gaze slowly drags down my body, and then back up, an inscrutable expression on his face.

When our eyes connect, my stomach does a flip. Nerves.

“Brie Queso.” He says it quietly, almost to himself.

But I hear it as loud and clear as when he christened the nickname in first grade.

My nails dig into my palms as memories of Who cut the cheese? Must have been Brie Queso pierce their way into my mind.

It would be funny if it wasn’t just one of a thousand examples of his incessant torture.

For thirteen years—kindergarten through twelfth grade—Sawyer and his lackeys were the absolute worst. I don’t count those few months senior year when he fooled me into believing he might have a heart. In the end, he proved he didn’t.

His body tenses as he shoves to his feet. Judging by the way his jaw is clenched, he doesn’t want me here either.

He rounds the desk, revealing navy slacks, a baby blue button up, and a patterned tie. I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. Leave it to Sawyer to keep growing past high school.

Suddenly, he’s inches from me and the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand up. A shiver works its way through me before I remind myself I’m here for a job, and I swallow all the words I used to dream of screaming at him one day.

Of course, in those fantasies, he’s hunched, balding, and has a beer belly. Also, crying.

He clears his throat. “Brie Casey.” His voice, deep and throaty, scrapes all the way down my spine. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

I bet you didn’t.

“Likewise, Principal Strong.”

He frowns. “Don’t be ridiculous. Call me Sawyer.”

Being called ridiculous by Sawyer Strong makes my hackles rise. I’m off to a fantastic fucking start here in gorgeous Blue Ridge, Tennessee, where I’ve shown up homeless and my new boss is the reason I used to cry myself to sleep at night.

He offers me his hand. I clench my jaw and stare at it, waiting for the punch line. The trick.

Sawyer’s eyebrows furrow at my hesitation. He watches me, waiting.

Be professional. Polite, and professional.

I slide my sweaty palm into his dry one. His eyes are too sharp. I pull my hand back and rub it on my pant leg.

He follows the movement, mouth tightening. “When the school board told me yesterday they’d found me a third grade sub, I didn’t know it would be you.”

Asshole.

I set my jaw. “Well, I’m here and ready to work.” I can be polite and professional while also sending him a message: I’m not Sawyer’s plaything. Today’s Brie Casey has a backbone.

My remark is met by that familiar toothy grin—a smirk, really. An evil one that says he’s ready to play.

Bring it on.

The corner of his mouth lifts, like he’s amused by my new attitude. It doesn’t matter that it makes my skin itch, I won’t run and hide.

This isn’t prom.

“Do you have a problem with that, Principal Strong?” I emphasize his title and give him a cloying smile.

The grin drops from his lips. He schools his face back into neutrality as he leans back against his desk.

He clears his throat. “It’s unusual for us to have a long-term substitute. Can you tell me a little about your experience with third grade?”

I spit out the truth without thinking. “Kids this age are so open and vulnerable. What they learn now can shape them for the rest of their lives, which I know from personal—” I choke off the words when I remember exactly who I’m with.

Sawyer’s eyes flare subtly. Does he remember tormenting me when we were both students at this school?

Sawyer was the universally-adored loudmouth who singled me out and made me question myself on a daily basis. No matter how much I tried to avoid him, he was always there.

Choosing the seat next to me on the first day of school to maximize his annoyance all year. Picking me to be on his team in PE just so he could justify throwing balls at my face. Heckling me any time it was my turn to speak in class.

I can’t read his expression. My fists tighten as I wait him out.

After a moment, he says, “I saw you were working at Everett Academy for the last few years. Why the move mid-academic-year?”

There it is.

The question that makes me want to sink into the ground.

Parents in the group chat are probably rejoicing in my departure as we speak, and I don’t believe for one second Sawyer Strong will see my side.

No, I can see it in his eyes. Sawyer just wants ammo against me. Some reason to trigger Blue Ridge into running me out of town with pitch forks.

I can already picture them egging my car as I drive past, shouting “Shame!”

How the hell did I think coming back here was ever going to work?

My nerves prickle, but I force a polite smile because I need a semester’s worth of paychecks to, you know, live. “It became clear a change would do me good.”

Sweat beads on my upper lip as I meet his eyes, hoping he won’t ask me anything else about why I quit. A drop rolls languidly between my breasts, and I resist the urge to squirm. My armpits are starting to feel a little ripe, but I stay still.

The minute draws out and I swear I hear the tick of every second from the clock on the wall.

Abruptly, Sawyer pushes off the desk and says, “We better get a move on it before the bell rings.”

My shoulders drop and I visibly wilt in relief for a second before I catch myself and straighten up to follow him out of his office.