She could do this. True, the school was surprisingly large for such a small town. But it was just an elementary school. Just a place filled with young kids. They weren’t judging her. They weren’t hoping she would fail. Who was she kidding? They were all hoping she would trip in the doorway and fall flat on her freaking face. They would take immeasurable joy in laughing and pointing as she picked herself up off the floor and endured the utter humiliation. No. She couldn’t think like that. They were only children, for goodness’ sake. But she, too, had once been a child and she’d written the book on mischief, at least in her early years. And now she was teaching children who were in those early years. All she knew for sure was that she must be strong. If they sensed weakness, they’d strike faster than a nest of irate wasps, and chaos would reign in her classroom forever. Practicing her breathing techniques, she made her way to the main office suite and stepped through the doors.
