“We have resource officers that work with the police,” Mrs. Hanley directed.
“None of which know we’re here. Once I walk out of this office, I’m Claire Porter, a teenager who’s pretty pissed she had to relocate. You need to treat me like any other student. On or off campus.”
“We can do that.”
“Good.”
Claire sat forward in her chair. “I’ll find a reason to come in contact with one of you every week. If there are names of students you suspect as either a potential victim or perp, it will help that we know.”
“All due respect, if we knew that, we wouldn’t need Twenty-One Jump Street invading our school,” Mr. Green said as he stared down his nose at her.
“Twenty-one what?”
He shook his head. “It was an old TV show.”
“I don’t watch a lot of TV.”
“It was before your time,” Mrs. Hanley told her.
Good, because a lot of American references were lost on her.
The morning bell rang, alerting them of the time.
Mrs. Hanley reached across the desk and handed Claire her schedule. “Our teachers give all incoming transfers time to catch up. Any issues with class placement will be shuffled in a couple of weeks. We’ll accommodate what we can, but if you don’t do some of the work, the teachers will request a change to give you the best opportunity to succeed. If you need help with anything, I’m here.”
Claire glanced at the schedule before shoving it in her backpack. “I’m sure I can manage.”
Mr. Green stood and indicated the door. “I’ll show you to your homeroom.”
As they walked into the halls of the school, students buzzed past as they hustled to their destinations.
The stares of students followed her as she walked down the hall. Reminding herself that she walked beside the disciplinary figure of the school, Claire attempted to appear aloof.
Rebel.
The word rolled in her head. I’m a rebel!
Reaching back in her memory of her years at Richter, she scanned the faces of those walking by.
Saw them.
Studied them.
Judged them.
Mr. Green walked her outside the administrative building and across a quad. “Your math and science classes are in C building. Literature and social studies are in B. Arts in A. Everything computer related is in E.” As he explained the campus, he pointed toward different areas, although nothing he said was foreign to her. Did he really think she didn’t look at a map before showing up for work?
“Got it.”
“Most seniors have a limited schedule, but because you decided to skip most of your junior year, it looks like you have some making up to do.”
Claire rolled her eyes.
Beside her, the vice principal chuckled. “You do that well,” he said under his breath.
She didn’t reply.
“Homeroom is twenty minutes at the start of second period. You’re with a selective group.”
“Selective?”
“Challenging.”
The bell rang again, and the last of the kids scurrying in the halls funneled into rooms. “Challenging for the vice principal, you mean,” she said.
He put his hand on the door, looked at her. “I know the name of every kid in this room and their reason for being placed there.”
Copy that, she said to herself.
“Ready?”
She blew out a breath, looked at him, rolled her eyes . . . and ignored his smirk.
“This is the faculty lounge,” Mrs. Hanley said as she showed Cooper around the administration building. Neil had arranged for knowledge of Cooper’s presence at the school to be limited to the principal only. It wasn’t that Mr. Green was a suspect so much as he just didn’t need to know Cooper was there. Mrs. Hanley would deal with any problems Cooper experienced in the classroom. “Food tends to disappear from the refrigerator, so use at your own risk,” she teased.
Cooper smiled and allowed her to introduce him to the few teachers that were in the space.
The administration building was filled with offices and reception desks. A scattering of chairs occupied a small waiting area, with very few people there. He was shown the nurse’s office, where a nurse only came once a week. Next were the counseling offices, where the counselors split their time on campus and were available to the students by appointment only. The halls were bare of lockers, taken out at least twenty years before and the walls patched to erase that they’d ever been there. Students were given a set of books for home, and another was available in the classrooms, removing the need for lockers altogether. Sad, really . . . that kids who wanted to deal drugs and bring weapons to campus ruined the high school experience for so many.
Once Mrs. Hanley gave him the dime tour, they returned to her office.
“Mr. Diaz has left a class plan on your desk. He’ll put together a month-long one by the end of the week.”
“And if we need longer than that?” Cooper knew they would.
“Mr. Diaz will accommodate whatever you need. He was happy to take some paid leave time.”
Cooper sat comfortably on the other side of her desk. “Who have you told that I’m here?”
“No one. Well, my husband, if I’m truthful, but no one here on campus.”
“You’re friends with the staff?”
“Of course. I’ve known some of the people here for many years. But I’m well trained at keeping secrets. The last group that came through brought that point home. I honestly felt safer with them on campus. I’m quite surprised it took this long for you to come back.”
Cooper couldn’t help but wonder if her words meant none of Warren’s people were there any longer.
“Even your closest friends on staff know nothing?” Cooper prodded.
Mrs. Hanley laughed. “Goodness no. The students aren’t the only ones who gossip around here. The superintendent made it clear what my role is.”
Cooper watched the time. “I’ve been given information on the teaching staff, but if you could give me some insight on the ancillary staff, I’d appreciate it.”
“What kind of information?”
“Names, ages, what their roles are, how long they’ve been on staff. The basics. I’ll avoid coming to you directly as much as I can.”
“I’m here to help,” she offered.
“I’m sure you are. Your intentions are not what my focus is on. If I were to ask you about Sally, in the counseling office, and you and Sally spent your weekends together with your families, your bias will come through. Or you’ll unintentionally treat Sally differently and spook her, or spark conversations.”
“I understand.”
“This isn’t a two-way street. If you hear anything on campus about me or your new student, you need to let us know.”
“I can do that.”
Cooper stood. “I should get a feel for my room before everyone shows up,” he said, reaching out a hand.
“Welcome to Auburn High,” she said.
Auto shop?
How in the world did he qualify as a substitute teacher for auto shop?
Cooper searched the faces of the kids filing into the classroom that had a single wall between it and the shop filled with tools, lifts, cars . . . Yeah, he knew his way around the engine of a car, but what the hell did he know about teaching it?