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I tried to get closer to see what they were looking at, but realistically, at this distance I wasn't seeing much of anything.
“Why would you want that in your mouth? Think of all the germs you’d get,” the disgusted voice of a girl about Zoey’s age piped up. I was pretty sure her name was Violet.
Each muscle in my body locked into place. What had I walked into?
Another girl yawned and tapped the glass. “I don’t know if I’d mind. Other girls in the fifth grade have already had their first kiss.”
“No way.” Zoey shrieked as I cleared my throat.
Seven heads whipped around to stare at me.
“Hey, Daddy,” she called out cheerfully.
“Hey, Zo. Girls.” I did a quick wave of my hand, looking far more awkward than cool.
“You should ask your dad.” One of the girls suggested as her cheeks turned fire engine red and she scuffed her foot on the floor.
“Good idea, Sophie.” Zoey held up the Ipad, and the title immediately jumped at me:How to Kiss: Fifteen Tips to Master the Perfect Make-out.“How do you know when you should kiss someone?”
What in the nine circles of hell had I gotten myself into? I was unprepared to have this conversation with my daughter, never mind six other children I didn’t know. Sweat dripped down my spine, and the word “abort” flashed through my mind on a continuous loop.
“Not until you're thirty!” I pushed past dry lips. Had someone turned up the heat?
“But my mom’s thirty,” said Violet with a wrinkle in her brow. “And I’m—”
“Hello, Mr. Hunter. It’s nice to see you again. I hope the girls have made you feel welcome.” Wren glanced at me and then did a double-take. My wide-eyed look of panic must have finally gotten through.
I made a strangled sound at the back of my throat, grateful for the interruption.
One of the girls giggled. I had a sneaking suspicion it was Zoey.
“What are you girls doing?” Wren asked and tilted her head to the side.
The girl who kept yawning earlier, tried to hide the screen behind her back while the others circled her like a group of settlers’ wagons.
Not fooled, Wren held out her hand. “Hand it over, Evie.”
A collective groan went up from the group.
Evie frowned and dragged her feet the few steps it took her to reach Wren.
“Teen Magazine. Girls, I’m not sure you’re all old enough to read this. Where did you get it from?”
A hand went up in the back. “I’m sorry, Ms. Winter. I took it from my sister’s room. Are we in trouble?”
“Which article?”
The girls stayed silent. Zoey stared at the ground to avoid looking at Wren.
“It was the one about kissing. Which is so gross. I told them they’d get germs, Ms. Winter,” said Violet, the budding physician or virologist.
Wren’s lips pinched together, and she tightened her shoulders. She held back her laughter if the slight shake was anything to go by. “You’re not wrong, Violet.”
I had no idea how she said it with such a straight face.
“Now, girls, no one is in trouble, but I must let your parents know that the magazine was here, and you all looked at it.”
“My parents won’t care,” a girl a little older than Zoey mumbled. A deep frown was etched into the corners of her mouth.