Without Mercy - Lisa Jackson [84]
The meal was served family style and consisted of a hearty beef stew, crusty homemade bread, coleslaw, and apple pie. Jules was starving by the time she sat down, and every bite was delicious. Swabbing a last bite of bread with butter, Jules decided that any complaints Shay had made about Mrs. Pruitt’s cooking were just as unfounded as her feelings of persecution. But, then, that was the glass-is-completely-empty Shay.
Reverend Lynch and Dr. Williams engaged her in conversation centering around the school. Cora Sue ate little and seemed pissed when the pie was passed. She shook her neatly coiffed head almost imperceptibly, as if the server, one of the students in Adele Burdette’s pod, should know instinctively that there were far too many calories in a wedge of Dutch apple pie.
Flatware clicked, conversation was kept to a low, somber hum, and Jules felt the glances from the students. Curious. Wary. Anxious. They were sizing her up, wondering how much they could get away with if they ended up in her class.
Once the meal was finished, people cleared their plates and began moving toward the prayer vigil. Jules caught Shay’s eye and knew she wanted to talk, but this was not the time. All eyes were on Ms. Farentino, the newcomer, who was supposed to be meeting staff and students right now. A few of the kids came up and introduced themselves, mumbling a quick greeting, and Jules nodded, smiled, and eased her way through the group.
Wade Taggert, one of the counselors who also taught psychology, was one of the first to extend a welcome. His handshake was firm, almost too hard. His thin goatee showed hints of gray that matched the glacial shade of his eyes. His gaze held no warmth as he said, “Glad you’re on the team. We need you. I’ve been covering some of the history classes for a while, and it’ll be good to settle back to a normal workload.”
His words were kind enough, but his tone seemed hollow, soulless. There was something unfathomable about him.
Salvatore DeMarco was next in line, and he seemed a bit more sincere, with his dark good looks and quick, if slightly forced, smile. He was strong and fit and taught math, science, and survival skills. “You’ll like it here,” he predicted, his near-black eyes glittering.
As they introduced themselves, the other teachers insisted that Jules would fit right in.
Jules was pretty sure she wouldn’t.
Reverend McAllister was quick to grab her hand, smile at her, and joke that she’d brought the bad weather. He had to be in his midthirties but looked younger, one of those faces that would always hold a hint of the boy he once was. “This is a great place,” he told her, “once you get to know us. I’m really sorry you came at such a bad time.”
Bert Flannagan’s handshake was a grip of steel, his expression in tense. Jordan Ayres was friendly enough, a real take-charge woman who seemed to be sizing her up during their brief conversation. Jules then made small talk with Adele Burdette and Tyeesha Williams, both somber as they acknowledged the tragedy of losing a student to such violent means.
Jules was just about to extricate herself from the group as a whole when Cooper Trent approached her. “Hope you’re settling in,” he said as they were within earshot of the other instructors.
“Not quite, but I’m getting there.”
“It takes a while, you know, as we’re so isolated, but I think you’ll find Blue Rock interesting.”
“I’m sure I will,” she said, meeting his gold-hued eyes and re membering how they darkened with the night, how his pupils would dilate when he stared at her.
She swallowed hard and folded her arms, afraid she might reach for his hand. Being close to him was not a good idea. She couldn’t take these memories of how she’d once loved him. She had to sup press the quicksilver flashes of their passion that burst inside her whenever he was near.
“Let me know if you need anything,” he said.
A little too late…no, make that a lot too late.
“Thanks,” she said through