Kiss the Stars (Devon Slaughter Book 1) Read Online Free

dashes. They also tried to make contact with
Emily Dickinson using a Ouija board. One girl read a story called The Great
Darkening, inspired by Dickinson’s own description of her impending death as a “great
darkness coming.”
    Scarlet didn’t
volunteer. When there were only a few minutes left, I asked if she wrote
anything.
    Her violet eyes
met mine. “No.”
    “Do you have any
thoughts to share?”
    She looked down
when she spoke, “I think about Emily Dickinson a lot,” her voice trembled with
a sudden intensity. “And I think,” she blushed furiously. The other girls
stared. A rash crept across her neck.
    “Tell us what
you think,” I urged.
    “Emily Dickinson
would rebel,” she said, vehemently. Charity, sitting next to her, flinched.
    I leaned toward
her. “Who would she rebel against?”
    “Herfate.”
    * * *
    Windrattled
the windows. It was after seven and the students from my adult literacy class
were leaving. I called to a man in a Harley Davidson T-shirt. He turned from
the doorway and came back to my desk. “Thank you for reading aloud,” I said. “You
made a perfect Thor.”
    “Aw, shucks, Ma’am,”
but he grinned. He had a braided beard.
    “Here, I thought
you might enjoy this,” I handed him a copy of The Outsiders . “I wouldn’t
be surprised if you aren’t long for this class. I’ll miss you.”
    “I’ll miss you
too. Truth is, I never had a teacher I liked before.”
    After he had
gone, I couldn’t resist opening the essays written by my seniors. Even though I
could hear a storm building force outside, I felt cozy, reading in the warm
glow of the lamp on my desk.
    An hour later, I
packed my valise with folders and assignments and the ever-changing books I
used for teaching. I allowed my students to turn in laser printed work but no
emailed papers, and most of the writing I assigned was done in class with pen
and paper. I had a rule about electronics. All devices had to be turned off in
my classroom.
    The halls were
unusually quiet. Despite my late schedule, I wasn’t always the last person to
leave. Many clubs had meetings that ran into the night. Often, I encountered
people as I was leaving. But tonight, I saw no one.
    Getting my
office mail was one of my favorite things. Since I didn’t acknowledge email, I
got real letters, like I was living in a Jane Austen novel.
    Tonight, there
was no light coming under the office door. It made me nervous. I hesitated,
before going inside.
    I fumbled for
the light switch. Panic rose in my throat as I slid my hand along the wall. The
scent of mold made me sneeze.
    Suddenly, lights
came on, bright and shocking. It was Mr. Stroop. His chuckle pealed out,
surreal and obscene. “Well, hello there,” he said. “What’s Ruby doing creeping
around like a little mouse?”
    Had he been
waiting in the dark? Knowing I would come for my mail? I gripped the handle of
my valise.
    “Hungry yet?” he
said.
    My eyes darted
to my mailbox in the row of cubbyholes behind him. Mine was empty. He held a
letter in his hand.
    “Is that for me?”
I said. “Just one letter?” My mind raced over the idea that he had done
something with my mail.
    He seemed to be
contemplating me. I forced myself to meet his gaze. Outside, the wind moaned
and cried. “Not even a cup of coffee around the corner?” he said.
    I couldn’t
answer. Heat flooded my face.
    His demeanor
shifted. “Alright. Straight to business then. A couple of things, Miss Rain.
First, there’s a new green policy. No more of this mail nonsense cluttering up
your cubbyhole. It’s a waste of paper. You need to check your email like
everyone else. Are we clear?”
    I heard my voice
ring out, unbelievably, “Miss Rain is clear.”
    He blinked. The
confusion I saw in his expression mirrored my own. Yet I felt the need to
finish what I’d started. “Clear and ready for takeoff,” a smile quirked at my
lips. I resisted saluting him, though my fingers twitched with the urge.
    His eyes
narrowed.