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

“The other thing is, I’m changing the schedule. Georgina Hartly is
going to take over Adult Literacy.”
    “But— Why? ”
    “She’s more
qualified,” he said.
    “How is she more
qualified?”
    He coughed into
his hand. “I need results. Look here, Ruby, you’re excellent with the gifted
students and you’re very creative,” he made a circular motion with his index
finger, like being crazy and creative were the same. “But these remedial
students, they need to be actually reading by the end of the semester. You
understand? It’s come to my attention you are not using the approved
curriculum.”
    “I am. I do
follow that—whatever. But I consider it my job to enhance it.”
    “It is my job to ensure our extra resources serve the community in the best way possible.
You must use the method approved by the Board.”
    “Why?”
    “Because it
works.”
    “With all due
respect, Mr. Stroop, they’re not first graders.”
    “They still have
to learn the alphabet and how to put it all together.”
    “Most of them
can’t read because the approved methods didn’t work the first time around.”
    His face turned
ruddy. “You’re missing the point.”
    “I think the
point is these students need a creative teacher more than anyone. Someone who
helps them learn in their own way. I have to warn you, they won’t like Miss
Hartly.”
    “They don’t have
to like her,” he said. “It’s not a popularity contest.”
    I wondered. Had
Miss Hartly ( George-ee ) got flirty with Mr. Stroop like she had with
Henry? Why did she want my Adult Literacy class?
    Now I was
gripped by real panic. “Mr. Stroop, please don’t take my students away from me.
They trust me. You see, they’re afraid of words and books. Can you imagine how
horrible that is? To be afraid of books? I swear. On my grandmother’s grave.
Every single student, without exception, will be reading by the end of the
semester. I promise. Mr. Stroop, listen. I want my students to love reading
with their whole heart.”
    He cleared his
throat. “It’s already done. Starting next month. Here’s the new schedule,” he
handed me the letter he’d been holding.
    “But that’s next
week,” I felt the sharp edge of the envelope.
    “I tried to tell
you this morning. I wanted to explain how I came to the decision.”
    “You invited me
to dinner,” I said.
    * * *
    Rain poured down
the windshield. It was hard to see the road. Several times I felt the car
sliding. After I pulled into the garage, I waited a moment before getting out.
I felt hollow.
    Inside, I
stripped down to my slip, leaving my wet clothes in a pile on the floor. I dug
into a jar of almond butter with a spoon. As I licked the spoon, I eyed the
envelope I’d left unopened on the table.
    Forget it . Forget you, Mr . Stroop .
    In the bathroom,
I took down my hair and brushed it.
    Back at the
dining table, I ate a macaroon. Mr. Stroop’s cruel missive bore his special
stupid seal. I stared at it, before tearing it open.
    It was bad.
Worse than bad. My first class, sophomore English, was at eight. In the
morning . I would have to find a way to sleep at night, like a normal
person. Anxiety pricked the back of my neck. I’d been down this road before, in
college, and landed in the hospital. From sleep deprivation.
    Two more
required classes followed at nine and ten. Then back to my usual schedule from
one to four. Stroop and Georgie didn’t even have the decency to give me a
regular nine to five. Georgie had cleverly unloaded her early classes. But that
couldn’t be the only reason she’d sabotaged me.
    I crumpled the
schedule into a tight ball and threw it across the room.
    I opened the
cupboard above the sink and got down my bottle of Seagram’s. I took a swallow
and shuddered. It tasted better with 7-Up. The clock on the stove read almost
nine.
    I picked up my
dice, two burnished pink cubes with tiny rhinestones. My mother had brought
them back from Vegas when Javier took her to the House