Ezra
I had heard stories about Mrs. Cecot from the kids. They said she was mean, and when Joy went to the nurses office feeling sick, the woman had accused her of faking it. She looked old enough to be my mother, so I was a little appalled that she was actually… flirting with me.
Never mind the fact that she was married with three teenaged children of her own. By the time she scurried off to treat the kid that got hit with the flaming marshmallow catapult, the sweet and sexy mood had been thoroughly ruined. Kristen had wiped her chin clean and had taken a precautionary step away. I turned to find Alex watching me with a scrunched up face, while Joy had her hands propped on her little hips. She looked like she was about ready to put melted marshmallow in Mrs. Cecot’s stringy, bobbed, dyed
