My teacher’s pet, Brinley, had struck again with a question I didn’t have an answer for. “One of my kids asked me if either the S or the C is silent in the word scent.”

Delia twisted her mouth to one side. “I have no idea. Every time I fill in for a non-art class I realize how many things I don’t know. Speaking of scents, we’ve been discussing insects this week and I learned a certain type of orb-weaver spider puts out a scent that smells just like a female moth in heat in order to attract and trap male moths. It made me wonder what my lure scent would be. You know, the thing that would make me fly blindly to my death. I think it would probably be warm apple cider and cinnamon sugar doughnuts.”

Shay laughed. “I would have guessed patchouli and incense.” Delia lightly shoved her shoulder, protesting, and then Shay added, “My lure scent would probably be expensive shoes and an Italian leather bag. What about you, Madison?”

“Chocolate and the promise of no more cleaning.”

That made them laugh, but it wasn’t my real answer. The thing that would draw me in right now was someone who smelled like . . . I tried to think of the right word, and the one that popped in my head was freedom. Like choices and options and dreams and possibilities. If that kind of man existed, he would be the opposite of Brad.

Like Tyler.

I brushed the thought away.

Shay asked me a question, interrupting my brain going down forbidden paths. “How’s that thing with the little boy in your class going?”

“Denny? I still haven’t heard from his parents. I’m going to try them again and then maybe bring the headmistress into the situation.” Both women looked a bit scandalized, which I got. Nobody wanted to take things that far and I didn’t want to be forced into a position where I had to resort to more drastic measures over Denny’s behavior. Because here at the academy, at least as far as the parents were concerned, giving a kid detention was the first step into them becoming meth addicts.

Apparently looking to change the subject, Delia asked me what I’d done over the weekend. I filled them in on how much I was improving with my cleaning.

“I even dusted with one of those feather dusty thingies.”

“Did you wear one of those cute little French maid outfits, too?” Shay asked, teasing me. “I bet Tyler would enjoy that.”

“He wasn’t even there,” I shot back. “He’s in Singapore at the moment. But he’ll be back in a few days.”

“Aw, look at you memorizing his schedule,” Delia said, joining in on the make-fun-of-Madison party. “Do you make his appointments, too?”

“No, but we went out together the night before last.” I’d said it to shut them up, to make them think that I was more than his maid or secretary, and it had worked. But I couldn’t let my best friends believe something that wasn’t true. “It was to help him network for his job because I’m good at talking to rich people. Friends only. Nothing more.”

Shay studied me for a moment before announcing, “You like him. Like like him.”

“I barely know him.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t have a major crush on him. And you do,” she said.

I shook my head. “What? How could you . . .” I let my voice trail off when I realized that I couldn’t deny it to my friends. “Yeah, okay. I have a crush on him.”

“Why don’t you go for it?”

“First off, he’s been really clear that he only wants us to be friends.”

“Easily surmountable,” she replied with a wave of her fingers.

“Second, I’ve realized that I’m kind of over dating rich guys.”

“Yes.” Shay nodded. “The reason the Cinderella story has endured for thousands of years is because no one wants that. Is that it for your objections?”

“No. The third thing is he’s sleeping with a Russian spy named Oksana.”

“What?” Delia looked alarmed.

“Okay, she may not actually be a spy. But I’m pretty sure she’s Russian. And possibly a model.”

“How do you know for sure they’re together?” Shay asked.

“Her lack of clothing and lying in wait for him in his bed was my first clue.”

“We could probably take her,” Shay offered.

Delia scoffed playfully. “She could have Bratva connections for all you know and then we’ll all be dead. But seriously, what if she’s like a stalker?”

“A stalker the doorman lets up?” I asked. “They have to know her or they wouldn’t be letting her access Tyler’s apartment.” At least, I hoped that was true. What if she was that girl Tyler had taken a restraining order out on? Maybe I should say something about her visit to him.

But Delia was determined to figure out what role Oksana was playing. “Tyler hasn’t mentioned whether he has a girlfriend? If he and this Oksana girl are serious? Or just hanging out?”

“No, Tyler and I haven’t reached the point in our friendship where we braid each other’s hair and talk about which boys or girls we like.”

Shay collected up her garbage, shoving it all into her paper bag. “Well, methinks the lady doth protest too much. And so I am officially withdrawing my cap.”

“Your cap?” I repeated.

“Haven’t you heard that expression? Setting your cap at someone? It means you like them and you’re planning to pursue them.”

“No,” I said. “Because I live in the twenty-first century. Nobody at this table needs to be setting any caps anywhere when it comes to Tyler.”

“Delia.” Shay turned to face her. “You think Madison should go for it, don’t you?”

“I think both of them should do whatever makes them happiest.” Delia reached over to pat my hand.

“Unhelpful as ever,” Shay told her.

“Thank you.”

“We’re just friends,” I said for what felt like the thousandth time. “Nothing more.”

“Not yet,” Shay said, mischief in her tone.

Before I could do my best to persuade Shay to give it a rest, the school’s secretary, Miss Martha, stuck her head in the cafeteria door. “Oh, there you are, Ms. Huntington. Ms. Gladwell would like to have a word with you.”

My heart rate sped up. Ms. Gladwell was our headmistress. It was never good news when she wanted to have a word with someone.

Both Delia’s and Shay’s eyes had gone wide, which didn’t make me feel any better.

I’d been so caught up recently in my personal life dramas (the cleaning, the dog, Tyler, Brad, my family) that I hadn’t stopped to consider any potential workplace problems. I was currently on probation at work, as was every new teacher who started there, for one year. If the school was pleased with my performance and my students’ test scores, then I would be asked back.

Had I messed up somehow already?

Delia whispered, “It will be fine,” but her words were undone by Shay looking like I’d just been issued a death sentence.

Pulling in a deep, shaky breath, I got up to follow Miss Martha while frantically trying to figure out what I could have possibly done to warrant getting called to the headmistress’s office.