Page 126 of Rock Bottom Girl

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When the bell rang,sending students scattering, Jake and I headed into the teacher’s lounge. We unpacked identical food containers of identical Sunday leftovers. If that didn’t say committed couple, I didn’t know what did.

“How’s it going, Gurgevich?” Jake asked, sliding into the chair next to the English teacher. She was opening a takeout container that held something delectable and red meat-y.

“Is that Kobe beef?” Floyd asked, sniffing the air like a bloodhound.

“It is.”

“How do you rate Kobe beef delivery for lunch?” Floyd demanded.

Her shoulders lifted. “I have many admirers.” I wanted to be Mrs. Gurgevich when I grew up.

I took the empty seat between Jake and Haruko and dug into my meal. I quelled the reactive grumble when Amie Jo strutted into the lounge. She was wearing a pink wrap dress, nude heels, and a necklace the size of a hubcap.

“Hello, all! I come bearing cookies from fourth period,” she said airily.

She dropped a platter of exquisitely decorated sugar cookies on the table in front of Jake.

“Wow, these look like Pinterest,” I commented.

“My students take their lessons very seriously,” Amie Jo sniffed. I think she thought I was being sarcastic.

“I’m not kidding. They look great.”

Amie Jo gave me the side-eye, trying to decide if I was kidding or not. So I reached out and took a heart-shaped cookie with pink drizzled icing.

“Yep. Delicious,” I said, taking a bite.

“Well, I just wanted to remind everyone about my Open House this month. You don’t need to bring a thing. The caterers have it all covered,” she announced.

There was an excited buzz around the room, and Amie left, wiggling her bedazzled fingers in Jake’s direction.

“Open House?” I asked Jake.

“Every year, the Hostetters open up their estate to us commoners and throw one helluva party,” Floyd supplied. “You do not want to miss it.”

I definitely did want to. And planned to. Also, I probably wasn’t even invited.

“It’s over-the-top. The food is insane. There’s appetizers in one room, a dinner buffet in another.” Jake sounded like he was talking about backstage passes to AC/DC.

“And don’t forget the indoor and outdoor bars,” Haruko chimed in.

“I ate so many crab puffs last year,” Bill said, patting his stomach at the fond memory.

“Everyone goes?” I clarified.

“Oh, yeah. You don’t want to miss it,” Mrs. Gurgevich insisted. “They had a string quartet in the dining room one year and a steel drum band on the patio.”

“Remember the year Rich Rothermel got drunk and tackled the swan ice sculpture into the pool?”

“Who was it they found drunk in the master bathtub, fully clothed?”

“That would be Jake, four years ago,” Mrs. Gurgevich said, pointing a finger in his direction.

Jake shuddered. “Still can’t stand the taste of a Moscow mule.”

The teachers continued their reminiscences over the daytime talk show on the TV playing in the corner.