Blackwell snarled. Gladly was out. Again. And this time she couldn't blame Oni Lee. No, he'd tried to have a heart-to-heart chat, rapping with the kids as he said, and Jesus, didn't he realize he wasn't a teenager anymore and had somehow managed to get punted into the bay by Fenja.
But nobody wanted to work at Winslow. She'd gone through her rolodex and...
At the bottom, there was one last card. "For emergencies only."
"I have no choice." Blackwell said. "Because if I don't get a sub, I'll have to teach Gladly's class."
She punched the number and made the call.
"Normally, I don't do this any more," the baritone voice echoed through the silent room. "but when the needs of America's youth come up, I must answer their educational cry for assistance. Also, I still have my sub card."
Nobody said anything. Even Emma was quiet. Until...
Greg. Of course, he would talk to the totally terrifying being in front of the class. "Thank you sir, and I think the glasses and tie really say teacher."
"Thank you Gregory," Crawler replied.
