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Who better than to step in that role but Carla?

She would think about it a little more and then reach out to their parents to see if they could arrive an hour earlier for the course or stay an hour late.

* * *

When lunchtime came around,Carla headed for the break room when she bumped into Pricilla Benton, the algebra teacher and the only other Black instructor at the school.

“Hey, girl,” Pricilla greeted, pushing through the swinging door of their break room.

“Hey. How was your holiday?”

“Relaxing. Too bad I can’t say the same about the first day of school.”

Carla chuckled. “That bad, huh?”

They walked in line, headed to the refrigerator where they retrieved their packed lunches, warmed their food, and sat at a round table.

“Girl, these students come back from Christmas break with all kinds of new gadgets and clothes. You would think P. Diddy was their Santa Claus.”

Carla laughed and nodded.

“I’m looking at them all, checking each other out and half-paying attention. I guess the first day doesn’t count until it’s time for a test.”

“Say that,” Carla agreed.

They both dug into their food—Carla with vegetable soup, crackers, carrots, and celery sticks.

Pricilla took her eyes over Carla’s food. “What are you, a vegetarian now?”

Carla almost choked on her carrot. “No. No,” she repeated. “I’m just trying to lose a little weight, is all.”

Pricilla smirked. “Must be a man involved.”

“Involved with what? These hips? Because last I checked, if a man were involved, I’d be losing weight for getting this ass tapped.”

Pricilla laughed and shook her head. “I can always depend on you to say something so out-of-pocket.”

Carla shrugged. “It is what it is, girl.”

“Don’t let the students hear you talking like that.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t. This conversation doesn’t leave this room.”

“Agreed.” Pricilla grabbed the remote and powered the volume up on the flat-screen TV that hung in the corner.

“So, he’s finally decided to follow in his father’s footsteps and run for mayor. How about that?”

Carla’s eyes shot up to the television to see Lennox Jenkins standing in front of a podium for a press conference.

“Thank you for giving me a moment of your time to inform you of my significant decision to run for mayor of Chicago. During my father Samuel Jenkins’ term, the city’s economic growth was thriving, and homelessness wasn’t as rampant as it is under Mayor Luke Steele’s leadership. That alone has prompted me to step in and bring the city back to the state it was before, and I hope you’ll all give me the chance to earn your vote in the upcoming election. Thank you.”

Reporters shouted questions at Lennox as Carla stared on in disbelief. She and anyone with any common sense knew Samuel Jenkins was the most corrupt politician in Illinois’s history of leadership.

He was currently under investigation for possible money-laundering with a known gun-running enterprise headed by Brian and Celine Devereaux. So far, those were only allegations. The two witnesses that were going to speak on the record—one changed his mind while the other disappeared altogether.

“That is a pretty brave move,” Carla said. She didn’t know how to feel about his announcement. On the one hand, if he were genuine about his love for the city, that was a good thing, but on the other hand, she had a bad feeling about it.

“Why do you say that?” Pricilla asked.