As I entered work at 4:37, I hoped that Ms. Janie wasn’t there. “You’re late,” Grayson sang as he rolled around in a spinning chair. I didn’t even bother glancing at him as I ran over to the middle school girls who were giggling.
“Sorry, I lost track of time,” I muttered as I sat down.
They shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, Grayson helped us.”
I looked at each of their love-struck faces and scowled, placing my head in my hands. “I promise it won’t happen again.”
“It’s okay; he’s better looking up close,” they giggled and I groaned, burying my head in my hands.
“Aside from that messy bruise,” one of them piped up.
“It just makes him look like a bad boy, especially with his leather jacket. He probably got the bruise by fighting off thugs,” another one offered.
“I think someone kicked him
