8 Maverick Crew
A week passed in a rush of lessons and planning. Brant and Celeste had rearranged every class to make room for a shelter drill. He’d warned the other instructors that it was coming. They took it in stride, not suspecting a thing. The drills were a regular part of the year, after all.
The day drew to a close, and Brant wrapped up his last class. He left the gym and pointed his nose to the cafeteria at the back of the school when a familiar voice caught his sensitive ear.
Knox.
Brant turned on his heel so fast that one of his students smacked right into him.
“Sorry,” Brant said, holding the student by the shoulders and sidestepping the boy. Brant raised to his full height, towering over the crowd of children and teenagers, and there was that brown bald head.
Brant pus
