The Edge

Chapter 6

It's Tuesday morning and I only have a day to snag an invite to the funeral. A plan has been fomenting in my brain and I limp towards Paige Willoughby's classroom to implement Phase 1. Since I have no ties to family or friends of the victim and have rarely spoken a word to any of the other teachers, she is my only option. As my hallway neighbor, we've crossed paths during the few days I've been working at Sycamore Academy. She's apparently unmarried and is definitely upset over the death of her student. A friendly overture won't seem too strange or out of place.

I find her at the front of the room, copying the daily lesson plan onto the whiteboard. Her bushy eyebrows are furrowed in concentration as she writes in lovely cursive.

"Hi there," I chime. She glances my way expectantly and I wave a box of fresh donuts around. "I come bearing delicious treats." Her expression goes from eager to disappointed in a heartbeat.

"Chocolate covered or glazed," I offer. "Your choice. I thought I'd earn some brownie points bringing these in. Or I guess I should say donut points, haha."

"Donuts?" she replies vaguely. "Oh, no thank you. I don't eat sweets."

What madness is this? Who doesn't love donuts? And how am I supposed to bribe people who don't partake of them?

"Um...I read over Avery's eulogy," I venture. "He says you helped him with the editing. He's an impressive writer."

"Isn't he, though? I couldn't ask for a better pupil. It's been years since such a talented student has come through my room. And he's been so courageous during this whole ordeal."

"It was nice of him to take on such responsibility," I agree. "You'll be attending the funeral, I assume."

She nods sadly, and suddenly changes topics. "You can leave the donuts in the teacher's lounge," she suggests. "It's the room just across from the office?" She's turned back to her board and it seems I've lost the thread of the conversation, right when I was working up to my spiel.

"You're always welcome to come and have lunch with us," she adds. "A lot of the teachers think you're hibernating over there in your library. Peace and quiet is great, but sometimes it's nice to have an adult conversation, you know?"

Hmm. Why haven't I thought of this? Teachers are the worst gossips of all, and I have the means to infiltrate their midst. Willoughby and I are going to be the best of friends by the end of the day.

***

An assortment of faces whose names do not come to mind swivels to greet me when I open the door to the lounge. I wave and proceed to stay rooted awkwardly in the doorway, afraid to "steal" a seat from a regular.

"Well, if it isn't our newest faculty member, at long last," drawls the lone male teacher in the room, a math instructor if I recall correctly. I wrack my brain, but I can't bring his name to mind. He appears to be in his late thirties, towheaded, with thin lips and laugh lines creasing the corners of his eyes. I can tell that he's tall and slight of build, almost to the point of being gangly.

Math Guy beckons to me with long, slender fingers. "Come on in and have a seat, Cherie. We don't bite." He wiggles his eyebrows and follows that up flashing me a superbly white smile. "Without your permission, of course."

Disregarding his bastardized pronunciation of the French language, did he really just use that lowball line on me, a total stranger? At work? A few of the teachers make sour faces in his direction, mirroring my thoughts.

Willoughby already has neighbors at her table and no one else has issued me an invite to join them, so I suck it up and head towards an empty seat next to Math Guy. He's genuinely surprised and hurries to pull a chair out for me. He seems like he'll be talkative at least, which is useful in my line of work...uh...hobby. On the other hand, none of the other teachers look keen to include him in their gaggle. In fact, Willoughby watches him darkly from the corner of her eye.