CHAPTER 15
The huge wood door slammed shut behind the final straggling student, leaving Mrs. Wilkins alone in the deafening silence of her classroom. She slumped into the ancient chair behind her desk, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her frustration.
Miranda Prescott’s cutting critique still rang in her ears, a stinging condemnation of not only Fitzgerald's beloved work, but also Mrs. Wilkins' own authority as an educator. The girl's daring disobedience had struck at the heart of everything she held dear, including respect, decorum, and the sanctity of the literary canon.
Mrs. Wilkins sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping to relieve the searing pain behind her eyes. In her twenty-five years of teaching, she had encountered a fair number of arrogant students, each c
