Page 17 of My Solemn Vow

Peyton Hopkins is as fake looking in real life as she is on her billboards, which are plastered all around the Chicago area. Her brassy-blonde hair is so stiff with product that it sits on her head like a helmet as she wobbles into my classroom in her six-inch platform wedges, and her navy blue ‘power suit’ is so starched that it barely moves.

“Yes, I’m so glad you came in so we can discuss David’s behavior. Please, have a seat.” I offer her a chair at the worktable, which has adult-sized chairs for this purpose.

“I’d rather stand.” She glares at me.

“Very well.” I take a seat at the table.

She can’t rattle me by attempting to come off ‘imposing’ while I sit as she stands.

“I’m concerned about David and his developmental differences compared to the other students in the accelerated class. We’re three and a half months into the school year, and I’m not noticing an improvement from when we talked during the first couple of weeks. I’ve noticed his homework is coming back only partially completed. Now his behavior —”

“His behavior is fine,” she snaps.

I blink dumbly at her, waiting for her to change her mind about the words she’s chosen. She amps up the entitled bullshit instead.

“Do you know who I am?” She scoffs.

“Yes, Mrs. Hopkins.” I can’t help it. Really, I don’t want to, but I couldn’t even if I did. “You’re the self-proclaimed realtor tycoon who, by my calculation, spends far too much money on billboard advertising. You’re the donor who plastered her name all over the field house and athletic compound for the entire academy. And last but not least, the mother delusional enough to think that her son will be some great American all-star sports player but is doing nothing to further his education to ensure he can compete academically.”

Her face turns fifteen shades of red.

“Well, I never.” She shakes her head. Her hair still doesn’t move. “Just you wait until the principal hears about this.”

“Yes, well, tell Doctor Thatcher I say hello,” I barely get out before Peyton Hopkins storms out of my classroom. I mutter under my breath, “And don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

8

VALOR

THE AUDACITY

I’ve been called to the principal’s office before, but with Kerrianne shifting in her sleep, I don’t know what to expect with this latest summons. Conferences are today, and rather than meet with Kerrianne’s teacher, I’ve been sent here.

“So, if you’re okay with it, I’d really like to see what options we can offer Kelsey as far as ac... celllll... errrr... ated...” Doctor Thatcher trails off with a disturbance coming from outside her office, which is fine because I’m listening to the same thing she is.

“No, I demand to speak with Doctor Thatcher right now. There is no one more important at this school than me.”

I snort because the self-importance of some parents is ridiculous. I’m no more important than any other parent here.

The door opens three seconds later.

“Doctor Thatcher, we need to talk about that new teacher. What’s her name? Ms. Mancini? She is out of control,”Peyton Hopkins, realtor and insufferable woman, fumes as she storms into the office.

The door slams closed behind her, and I’m not one to runfrom a conflict, but this conversation regarding Kerrianne feels like it isn’t so urgent that it can’t wait for another day.

Peyton drops into the chair in the same manner Kerrianne does when she pouts, practically slamming her ass into it. Her perfume assaults my nose, and I hold back the urge to cough. I debate getting up and leaving.

No, let’s stay. This will be amusing.My wolf and I have a similar thought, seeing as how Peyton is breathing heavily, and her face is almost purple with rage.

“Peyton, Mrs. Hopkins.” Doctor Thatcher corrects herself. “I am with another parent. He had an appointment.”

Peyton seemingly notices my presence for the first time, and she sits up in her chair a bit taller. Which is weird since I settled in, assuming this would be a long conversation with Doctor Thatcher. It’s not like I’ve adopted an intimidating stance.

“Victor.” Peyton coos at me, using the fake name everyone from outside the pack is given. “It’s lovely to see you. I’m so sorry to barge in, but you don’t mind, do you?”

I don’t get a chance to answer for myself because Doctor Thatcher tries to intervene. “Mrs. Hopkins, could you please step outside? Mr. Clark and I are in a meeting.”

“No, he should hear this too. It concerns all the school’s donors,” Peyton snaps, cutting off Doctor Thatcher.