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K ENDALL

“Paisley, honey. You need to share the pink markers with Hunter and Chloe.”

As adorable as she is, Paisley can be a handful, as most five year olds are. It’s only one week into the school year and she’s already threatened that anyone who touches the pink markers will have to sit in the naughty chair.

She’s been adamant to let her tablemates know who’s the boss of room twenty-eight. And it isn’t me. Well, it is, but they’re more afraid of Paisley’s attitude than mine. I’d be more annoyed at the little girl if she didn’t remind me so much of myself.

We both have a habit of running our mouths and speaking our mind. Although, when I’m Miss Wentworth , one of the three kindergarten teachers at Revere Academy, Boston’s finest private school, I keep ninety-nine percent of my snark and attitude to myself. After school hours, it’s no holds barred.

Little Miss Paisley with her black hair and stunning blue eyes has yet to learn that kind of self-control.

“Pink is my favorite color, and my daddy says I can have whatever I want.”

The perk of working at a prestigious school like Revere is the pay. The downfall is dealing with the elitist mentality of some of the parents and students. They’re not all snobs, but the few who are make up for the rest of them.

I squat so I’m eye-level with the little firecracker. “Your daddy is the boss when you’re at home, but when you’re in school, you need to follow the rules here. What is the number one rule at school, Paisley?”

Her cute little bottom lip sticks out in a pout. “Be kind.”

“And share,” Chloe whispers.

“And no running in the halls,” Hunter adds.

“Chloe’s favorite color is pink too. How would you feel if she took all the pink markers?”

“I wouldn’t let her. I’d get them first,” the little smartass replies, and I hold back my chuckle.

Seeing Chloe’s on the verge of tears, I squeeze her hand and address Paisley. “Can you see how not sharing is hurting Chloe’s feelings? We’re kind to our friends. There are plenty of pink markers. Why don’t you give your friends two each?”

Paisley scrunches her nose, lets out a dramatic sigh, and doles out the markers. “Fine. But I get to keep these four.”

Pick and choose your battles , I remind myself.

I’ve requested a meeting with her father to nip this behavior in the bud.

Chances are, the parents will send in a nanny, as many do, but I’m hoping her daddy, whom she seems to have wrapped around her little finger, will see the importance of the meeting.

So far, I’ve only met her grandparents when they pick her up in the afternoon.

The day goes by quickly, as most do when there’s no second to rest between wiping noses, dealing with sandbox drama at recess, keeping fingers out of noses and off classmates, practicing writing skills, and enforcing good hygiene by washing hands after going to the bathroom. I’m exhausted.

I can’t wait to curl up on the couch with my mom and sister tonight and watch their favorite game shows.

Mindless television is exactly what I need, and I’ll cap the weekend off with the Revolutions football game.

Riley, Rowan, and I have tried to make most home football games ever since Riley and Walker Bankes got together.

Football season has become my new favorite time of year.

The long days and late nights are exhausting though. I wish the NFL would move their games to Saturday nights. Still, it’s fun to hangout with my friends and cheer for Riley’s husband.

Of course, Paisley is the last to get picked up today. I keep her entertained with books and puzzles, and finally, at three-thirty, the headmaster, Ryan Chambers, knocks on my open classroom door.

“Miss Wentworth, Paisley’s grandparents are running late but will be here in a few minutes.”

She leaps from her desk and runs to the door.

“Hang on, Paisley. You need to clean up after yourself before leaving.”

“But you’re the one who took out the books and puzzles.” Oh, that fresh mouth of hers. I curl my lips in and slowly shake my head. “My daddy doesn’t make me pick up.”

Her daddy and I will be having a serious conversation.

I’m sure everyone from her grandparents to her nannies dote on her like a fucking princess, but not on my watch.

I have no animosity toward the students who come from wealthy households.

I do, however, have animosity toward parents who teach their children they’re better than the rest of the world because they were born with a silver spoon in their mouth.

Those parents can shove that silver spoon up their asses.

“We’ve talked about school rules, Paisley. Come clean up, then you can go home with your grandparents.”

Ryan comes over to me while we watch her stomp around the classroom. “She this year’s handful?”

“We’re only a few days into the school year. Time will tell.”

“As long as you don’t piss off the father, we’ll be fine.”

I bite my tongue, not taking his bait. I’ve been a teacher at Revere for five years and the only complaint I’ve ever had was when I reported a father for sexual harassment.

It wasn’t even that he was married that bothered me the most. It was that he used his title as the president of one of Boston’s largest accounting firms as a reason why I should sleep with him. He had the balls to attempt to goad me with the jewels he could buy me.

Fucking asshole.

When he wouldn’t accept no as an answer and got handsy with me at a school fundraising event, I reported him to Chambers and the board. Most were supportive of me, but a few worried he would withdraw his hefty annual donations if we reported him.

His son continued his education with us, but he was not allowed anywhere near me.

“Grammy and Grampy!” Paisley shoves a book on the bookshelf and runs across the room into her grandmother’s arms, then into her grandfather’s.

The couple beam down at their granddaughter with pride. “Hi, sweetie pie. We’re sorry we’re late. There was an accident that had traffic backed up,” her grandfather says to me.

“I hope everyone is okay.”

“Yes. It looked like a fender bender, but you know how one little bump can stall traffic for miles. I’m Joe Humphries.

” He holds out his hand to me and I shake it.

“Maybe it pays to be late so we have more time to introduce ourselves. You’re usually swarmed with the craziness of afternoon pick up when we arrive. ”

“Kendall Wentworth. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I hope our granddaughter is on her best behavior at school. I’m Beth.”

I shake her hand as well. “The first few weeks are always the hardest for kindergarteners. Learning to adjust to new friends, new rules, and a schedule.”

“Let me guess.” Beth puts her hands on her hips. “Little Miss Paisley claims her daddy doesn’t make her follow rules.”

I raise my brow. At least it seems I’ll have their support. “She’s mentioned it a time or two.”

Paisley lowers her chin to her chest. “I didn’t talk back and cleaned up after myself. I was putting books away when you got here.”

Joe clears his throat. “Was that before or after Miss Wentworth asked you to?” He hides his smile with the palm of his hand.

Her chin wobbles and before she can start crying, Beth pulls out a chair and sits so she’s eye-level with Paisley.

“We’ve talked about this before, honey. It’s important to listen to others and follow rules, isn’t it?

When you’re home with just your daddy, it’s different.

But you even have rules when you come to our house.

Cleaning up after yourself is important. ”

“But Miss Stephanie cleans our house so Daddy doesn’t have to. It’s the same thing.”

“No, it’s not. Miss Stephanie comes once a week to clean, not to pick up.”

I’m surprised the little princess doesn’t have a live-in housekeeper. It’s nice to see she has good grandparents.

“Say thank you to your teacher, sweetheart. It’s lasagna night and I’ll need your help making garlic bread.”

“Can we make brownies too?”

“Only if you let me lick the bowl,” Joe says.

“You and Grammy can have a beater, and I’ll get the spoon.”

“Deal.” He holds out his hand to Paisley and she takes it. “We’re sorry to keep you, Miss Wentworth. If our little princess gives you a hard time, please don’t hesitate to reach out.”

“I will. Thank you. Have a good weekend, Paisley.”

“Bye, Miss Wentworth. I’m sorry for talking back.”

I’m impressed with her unprompted apology. “Thank you, Paisley. I’m excited to watch you learn and grow this year.”

She gives me a shy smile and leaves with her grandparents. There’s hope for her yet.