Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 59713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
“Don’t do that,” he said, suddenly turning serious. “Never put down something you are proud of and love because you feel it doesn’t compare to someone else. I don’t care what Bill Carrell has done with his life—nothing compares to my favorite student. Which would be you.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Absolutely. You were the brightest student I had and the one I am most proud of the person they became. Please don’t ever put yourself down in my presence. I won’t hear of it.”
I laughed and nodded. “Alright, alright. No more self-deprecation.”
Mr. Proctor nodded and smiled. “Good. Now, what do you think of Camilla?”
I nearly choked on the buffalo chicken that I was tearing off the bone. The last thing I was expecting was for him to bring her up. I didn’t know why. I should have seen it coming. Clearly, he wanted to ensure his legacy would continue, and with Camilla possibly taking over for him full-time, he would want some advice on if I thought she would be worthy.
“She’s great, from what I’ve seen,” I said. “I’ll keep an eye on her and make sure she stays that way.”
“I’m sure you will,” he muttered under his breath as he took more crab cake in.
“What was that?”
“Oh nothing,” he said, grinning. “Nothing at all.”
We spent the rest of the meal amicably chatting, and I made the promise to myself that I would keep up with him when he retired. As much as he had done for me over my life, and as much as I would miss seeing him at the school, I figured it would be a promise I could keep rather easily.
CHAPTER 13
CAMILLA
As much as I had hoped for a twenty-four-hour situation, by Tuesday morning, the stomach bug had really dug in its heels and didn’t seem to have any immediate plans to leave my body. That wasn’t a big deal when it came to my student-teaching position at the high school. I emailed the principal back, thanking him for his concern and enthusiastically accepting his offer of the position. That felt, perhaps, a bit premature considering there were still a lot of moving parts in play, but I wanted him to know how happy I was about the opportunity and how excited I was to take it on.
In his return message to me, Mr. Wayne reiterated I should stay home for as long as I needed. He told me even more of the students had been stricken down by the stomach bug, and he wanted to make sure everybody was healthy before coming back.
But I couldn’t be as optimistic about the temp agency. They weren’t exactly prone to being flexible when it came to availability and giving time off. That was kind of the crux of temp work. Either you were available when they had something for you, or you weren’t. They weren’t going to wait around for you, and they certainly weren’t going to make a whole bunch of accommodations to make work more convenient for any of the individual names on their ever-growing list of available workers.
Which meant if I had to tell them I was too sick to go to whatever they had lined up for me, I was more or less telling them to give it to somebody else and toss me back into the slush pile. I might have had the job I was hoping for waiting for me at the end of the semester, but until that actually came to be, I needed to keep making money, and that meant staying out of the slush pile.
So, it was a relief beyond description when I opened my message and discovered I wasn’t going to have to tell them I wouldn’t be able to report to the assignment because I didn’t have to go anywhere at all. They’d given me a remote project, allowing me to stick to my comfy clothes and continuous stream of hot tea, electrolyte drinks, and crackers while still getting the work done.
That assignment carried me through the rest of the week as I continued to rest. I didn’t particularly like not being able to do anything. The occasional day to just relax was nice. But when that day turned into an entire week of camping out on the couch only to get up, move into the bedroom to sleep, then come back out to the couch the next day, it got tedious very quickly.
By Saturday, I was feeling too cooped up to stay in place for another day. The stomach bug seemed to be on the retreat, and I finally recovered my energy. I decided I wanted to do something. It didn’t really matter what. As long as I was out of my apartment and able to breathe some actual fresh air, I would be happy.
I got dressed and lingered around in the bathroom as I did my makeup, hoping that I was really on the other side of this bug. By the time I swiped on a bit of lip gloss and ran a comb through my hair, I felt optimistic.