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her playfully on the ass. “Watch yourself, Ms. Wilson.”
    I let her out of my grip and watch as she moves toward the door, unlocking it and letting herself out.
    “I’m glad midterms finish on Friday.” She smiles. “I can’t wait.”
    “Me neither,” I murmur.
    ***
    “Good of you to make it,” Mr. Galleu drawls as I take my seat at the table.
    “Sorry,” I mutter. “I was held up with a student.”
    Not a complete lie.
    Mr. Galleu drones on and on about exams, school policies, and other things that I should probably care about more than I actually do. I have to force myself to focus or risk falling asleep.
    “As I was saying before,” Galleu shoots me a look, “this is our last meeting before the end of the semester. I just wanted to wish everyone an enjoyable holiday. Mr. Andersons, can I see you both?”
    I glance at my father and wonder why he wants to see him. Me, I can understand, but what does my father have to do with anything?
    I hang around as the meeting empties, purposely staying over on the other side of the room to avoid small talk with my father. Even from over here I can see he doesn’t look great. A wave of guilt rushes over me. I haven’t called my sister for an update in more than a week.
    “Elijah, Tony, sit.” Galleu nods at us, and we both sit on opposite sides of the table. “So, Elijah. You obviously know your father is scheduled for heart surgery in January, and for that reason we’ll be needing you to continue to take his classes next semester.”
    My head shoots up. Heart surgery? I glance at Dad, but he won’t meet my eyes. Am I supposed to feel guilty for not finding this out sooner, or annoyed that I wasn’t informed?
    “ Eli .”
    “I’m sorry, what?” I snap my attention back to Galleu.
    “I said I know we asked you to stay on to fill a gap in Junior History, but it’s easier for us to cover that than it is Senior, so you’ll be staying in Senior to cover your father’s classes. I trust that’s not an issue for you?”
    “Not at all,” I reply stiffly.
    Inside, I’m dying. Senior History? The rest of the year teaching Jill?
    I’m annoyed, and I have no idea who my anger is directed at. Am I annoyed at my father for getting sick? Or myself for falling for a student? All my life I swore I’d never be like him. It was the one thing I could pride myself on—that I was a better man than my father. Until now.
    “Great. We’ll discuss the details after break. You may go now.”
    I stand up with more force that I intended, my chair sliding across the floor and into the table behind me. I mumble a goodbye and walk toward the door, not looking at my father.
    ***
    “Afternoon, Mr. Anderson.”
    I glance around and smile at the girls who have scattered about my desk. They giggle and whisper, and I don’t even want to think about what they’re saying. I know the stir my presence has caused among the females here, and I’m glad Jill is not in this class. I could only imagine how she’d feel seeing these girls all but throw themselves at me.
    Of the four classes I teach, this one is the worst. I swear, half the class is only there to ogle me, and I am constantly being asked to explain things in greater detail. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been asked about private tutoring.
    Enrollment for second-semester Junior History has more than doubled since it was announced I’d be teaching the class—all female. I can only imagine the uproar my staying in the senior department is going to cause.
    “Afternoon, girls. I hope you’re ready for the midterm,” I say, raising my eyebrows.
    “Ready as I’m gonna be,” the girl I know as Dana laughs. “What are your plans for Christmas, Mr. Anderson?”
    I ignore the way she’s leaning on the desk, subtly hitching the hem of her skirt up.
    “No plans,” I say, my eyes fixed on hers.
    Teaching high school kids is lethal, especially when they’re female. My students are seventeen and eighteen, and