A vision with sensitive, hurty, grape tomato nublets rubbing against my semi-sheer, tie-fronted, super-cropped, school blouse, and a pair of over-larg..., over-ripe, cherries wiggling seductively beneath my pleated, flicky, micro-mini, school skirt. In other words, a feast for ogling eyes and drooling mouths. Which was what greeted me when I made it to the bus stop, and these ogling eyes and dribbly mouth were attached to the dirtiest, scruffiest, stinkiest boy ever. Not a boy boy, but a teen-man. It didn't matter that this was her sixth year of being a teacher--she always hated getting called to the principal's office. She probably dreaded it more than the students. It meant either some additional workload, him asking her to cover down for some additional duty or to work a stupid football game. Something usually not good.Then Leah suddenly thought that it might be about something a lot more important than selling concessions at a sportsball game. It might be about her tenure. This was. More

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