The Beta's Forbidden Mate

Chapter Two

The following Monday at lunchtime, I sat despondently at my desk, looking over the chaotic mess that was my classroom. The temporary hair dye was washed out of my chestnut-brown hair, and I was dressed in the far more school-friendly outfit of a black blouse and houndstooth pencil skirt.

My head sank onto my arms. I was only three classes into the week, and already I felt my body sagging with exhaustion.

There was a tutting sound from the door, and I looked up to see Mrs. Ng, a tiny Thai-American woman with long black hair tied back in a severe ballerina bun. She was my only coworker in the music department—she taught the sixth grade students, while I was in charge of the seventh.

"Cheer up, Miss Mason," she said with a dry smile. "Only nine weeks till summer vacation!"

I smiled weakly. Mrs. Ng had made the same joke on my very first day on the job ("Only thirty-nine weeks till summer vacation!"), and had been counting down the days ever since. Most of the staff at Lawrence Middle School did, and now that I was almost done with my first full year of classroom teaching, I was starting to understand why.

She looked around my disorderly classroom. Pages of sheet music lay scattered on the floor, and several of the music stands had been overturned in my students' rush to get to the cafeteria.

"Are they still giving you a hard time?" she asked in a gentler tone.

"I just don't know how I'm supposed to teach thirty-five students in each class if they only give us ten practice instruments," I said with a sigh. "The second I try to focus on teaching a new chord to one group, the other group starts acting out."

"They were a tough bunch when I had them last year," Mrs. Ng admitted. "I remember asking Mr. Boehn again for more teacher's aides, because so many of them had behavioural issues."

I nodded. "Just having one more person in the classroom would be such a help. Or more instruments, so at least everyone was on the same assignment."

"It's the same thing every year," Mrs. Ng said, clicking her tongue again. "The only department that ever gets more funding is the football team."

"How do you get through it?" I asked her. She had twenty years experience under her belt, and I was willing to take whatever help I could get.

She shrugged her thin, bird-like shoulders. "You learn to focus on the ones you can actually help. There are at least a few every year who want to learn music. Concentrate your efforts on them."

"But shouldn't we be trying to inspire the others to want to learn?"

"Of course. And you should always try, where you can. But if you hang your life and heart on the success of every student, you won't last five years. I've seen it before."

She gave my arm a reassuring pat. "And you can't worry about work too much. You're young! Why don't you have a boyfriend?"

I stifled a groan. Along with counting down the days till summer break, another of Mrs. Ng's favorite things to keep track of was my dating life.

"I still think you should let me fix you up with my son," she continued, not noticing my reluctance. "He's such a nice boy. And top of his class in law school! You should let me give him your number."

"Thanks, Mrs. Ng," I said, trying to sound genuine. "But I'm just...really busy right now. I—"

I cut off as the image of a man with glittering dark eyes floated into my thoughts. It was accompanied by a deep throbbing in my gut.

My cheeks burned hot. I held a hand to my throat, fighting the tingling sensations racing up and down my body.

"Olivia? Are you alright?" Mrs. Ng asked, peering at me in concern.