Chapter One
He was not happy.
Amara knew all the signs. There was that harsh slant of his brows, the downward tilt of the corners of his mouth, and the way his fists clenched just underneath his crossed arms. She could even hear the frantic tapping of his foot on the faculty room’s linoleum floor.
No, Thrane Cantrell was anything but happy.
She listened with half an ear as Johnathan, the principle, asked why the internet still wasn’t working. It had been out since yesterday, and Thrane was supposed to have had it fixed by last night. But here they were, seven in the morning, and nobody could pull up Google Chrome.
Frankly, Amara didn’t care. She only ever used her computer to pull up art pieces or enter in completion grades. She’d never been one to rely on technology too much. But here she was anyway, feigning interest in her nails as she snuck glances at their brand new teacher and tech guy.
He might have the attitude of a grumpy old man, but when he kept his mouth shut, he was actually quite nice to look at. She’d seen him down over a dozen donuts in one sitting less than a week ago, but there was hardly any fat on him. He was tall, too. Taller than most men she’d seen. He’d walked into her classroom once, and it had been like a shadow fell across the room; he’d been blocking the doorway with that height and those broad, broad shoulders.
Amara didn’t think Thrane Cantrell was what somebody would consider classically handsome, but there was a severity about his face that made it hard to look away. His cheekbones were sharp, resembling those of a starving man, even though she knew how much he ate. His jaw was equally as angled, almost looking as if it could cut. The trimmed beard he sported softened the look somewhat.
But then there were his eyes. The brown was so dark it was almost black. She’d talked to him a few times, and it was that blackness that held her attention. That darkness scared her. It was so full of rage and . . . she had even thought, sadness. Like a wounded animal always on the defense, always ready to growl or to bite.
And then there were his tattoos. She didn’t know how many he had, but she guessed there was a lot of them. He had to wear long-sleeved shirts every day to cover the ones on his arms. There were none exposed during school, except for the tiniest hint of black just at the back of his neck. That was the only one anybody ever saw.
His fingers tapped on the wooden table now, long digits with blunt nails and calluses on the under sides. She’d noticed it was a habit of his, to tap some type of extremity when he was annoyed. He usually pet his little gecko instead, but Johnathan had banned Thrane from bringing his pet to staff meetings. Amara was just glad she didn’t have to be there when Johnathan told him.
“I told you,” Thrane said, his voice gravelly. “It’s not my fault. It’s the internet provider. You have the cheapest one out there and the shittiest routers. It doesn’t help that the computers are ancient. Those little smartbooks aren’t meant to share a connection between fifty other computers all at once.”
Johnathan frowned. “We don’t have enough money-”
“Then use the desktops for a little bit. I got all the desktop computers up and running, so those should be fine. From what I’ve heard, nobody even uses the smartbooks that much anyway. If you need all the students to have computers, just go to the lab.”
The physics teacher, David, raised a hand. “My class needs to be on computers today. We’re conducting a lab on projectile motion, and we need to measure distance.”
Thrane shrugged. “Then use a measuring tape.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Use two measuring tapes.”
Amara and a few other teachers laughed at that, but most of them just glowered at the man. He’d been here for less than a month and had apparently caused a few problems with not only co-workers but students, as well. The reviews were mixed, but Amara had heard that the office had received numerous calls from angry parents about the new chemistry teacher.
Thrane finally sighed, running his hands through his unkempt hair. “I’ll download the application onto your desktop computer and you can use that computer’s camera. How does that sound?”
David nodded. “Sounds good.”
“There we go.” Thrane looked around the room. “Is there anything else?”
Amara looked away as his eyes came to land on her. She thought he might have caught her staring a few times, and she didn’t want to be caught again. She just wanted to go back to her classroom, turn the music on, and enjoy a hot cup of pomegranate tea.
Johnathan then dismissed them with a promise – and a frown to Thrane – that the internet would be up and working by tonight. Amara winced at the huff of frustration she heard from Thrane, but the man didn’t say anything and left.
She and the rest of the teachers followed, and she went into her studio to prepare for her first class of the day. Her students would be working on their own interpretations of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. They would be using tempera paint on panels, because the art budget didn’t have enough for canvas. So far, most students were only on the sketching phase of their designs, but she hoped they could all begin painting today.
After setting out the paints and brushes and pulling up Pandora, she went down to the break room to go make that pomegranate tea. Students were already arriving at school, filling the hallways and chatting at their lockers. That was something she had never liked about high school, all the noise of other people, clogging up the space and warming the air.
Amara took a deep breath and made her way to the break room. She filled the water boiler, took out a tea bag and her favorite mug, and waited. The blue light came on, and she filled her mug and let the tea bag steep. She usually had a mug of tea for breakfast, lunch, and then before going home or if she had play practice.
Holding her tea ever so carefully in her hands, she threw the tea bag away. And walked right into what felt like a wall.
Spilling her scalding hot tea all over a familiar black button-down shirt.
Oh no