Novel Drama
Chapter 202
Chapter 202
#Chapter 202: Under Supervision
Moana
The bodyguard dropped me off in front of the school, and I got out of the car.
Already, as I walked up the pathway to the entrance of the school, I could see that some of the older
students and even other teachers were giving me strange looks. I didn’t think too much of it, however,
as I had just gotten out of an unmarked vehicle with tinted windows and an intimidating-looking man in
the driver’s seat. I would have stared at me, too.
But as I headed inside, the staring continued. Even people who hadn’t seen me get out of the car were
giving me odd looks. I felt as though people were whispering about me; but, once again, I decided not
to let it get to me and headed to my classroom.
Once I got to my classroom, I decided to head to the faculty lounge to make myself a cup of coffee and
warm up a scone, just as I always did when I first got to school. When I entered the faculty lounge, a
couple of other teachers were sitting at the table and chatting. As soon as I walked in, though, their
conversation stopped abruptly.
“Good morning,” I said with a warm smile as I walked over to the coffee machine, trying not to show
how uncomfortable I felt. “How was everyone’s weekend?”
One of the teachers, who was a high school math teacher that I had only ever exchanged pleasantries
with before, sort of scoffed. Something about it made the hairs on the back of my neck raise, and I
turned to face her.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, feeling anger beginning to bubble up inside of me as I was instantly
reminded of what it felt like when those wealthy werewolf women were nasty to me at the networking
event that I went to with Edrick.
“Oh, nothing, nothing,” the teacher said, waving her hand dismissively and throwing me a stiff smile.
I stared at them for a few moments longer. Finally, the male teacher who was sitting with her spoke up
when he realized that I knew that something was going on.
“Sorry, Moana,” he said, sounding more polite than the other teacher. “It’s just… Well, we heard about
what happened at the warehouse. It’s all over the news, and…”
“And…?” I asked, folding my arms across my chest.
The teacher’s face went red. “There are some rumors circulating that you’re not actually human, but
a… a…”
“A late bloomer?” I finished for him. Behind me, the coffee machine began to spurt my coffee out into
my cup. Other than that, the air in the room was thick and silent. The teacher slowly nodded as his face
turned into an even deeper shade of red.
“Not that it’s a bad thing, necessarily,” he continued. “It’s just that… Well, late bloomers are very rare.
Some people see it as a sign of bad luck. And with your baby on the way, people like to gossip.”
Before, I was angry enough that they were talking about me. But now, to hear that they were talking
about my baby? “What about my baby?” I snarled, my voice spiking in a similar staccato to the coffee
machine as it beeped behind me.
The male teacher fell silent. His mouth opened and closed a few times as he tried to come up with what
to say, making him look like a fish gasping on land. Suddenly, the female teacher spoke up. “More often
than not, the children of late bloomers come out with all sorts of… developmental problems,” she said.
The female teacher was far nastier with her words, and didn’t beat around the bush. When she finished
speaking, she just looked at me with a bit of a smirk on her face.
Now, I was beginning to feel the anger bubbling up even more. I whirled around and picked my coffee
up, not caring that I sloshed it on the counter in my haste, then turned and stormed off toward the door.
Just before I left, though, I turned back one last time and shot the two teachers an angry glare.
“I don’t care if you gossip about me, but don’t you dare gossip about my baby,” I growled. There was a
lot more I wanted to say, but I chose not to. And with that, I left the two teachers alone with their
mouths hanging open, and stormed out without even taking my scone with me.
…
“Good job!” I said, clapping my hands together as I watched one of the children in my kindergarten
class cut a perfectly straight line with her safety scissors. The little girl beamed up at me with rosy red
cheeks and shot me a toothless grin. I moved on to the next student, and repeated the same drill.
“Here you go…” I said, crouching down to the little boy’s level. “Like this…” I showed him how to use
the scissors, and then held his hand while he cut. As he cut, he stuck his tongue out in intense
concentration.
“Um… Miss Moana?” one of the children suddenly said.
“Just a moment, Jeremy,” I replied. “I’m helping Bobby.”
The little boy who just called my name fell silent, but only for a moment. “Um, Miss Moana, it’s
important,” he nagged.
I let out a sigh. “Jeremy, if you need to use the potty, you can go by yourself,” I said while the little boy
that I was helping struggled to cut around a circular shape on his paper. Once again, the little boy,
Jeremy, fell silent for just a couple of moments before calling out again.
“Miss Moana, there’s a man looking in the window with b… bin…”
“It’s binoculars, Jeremy,” one of the little girls corrected with a snide tone of voice. As they spoke,
however, I already had jerked my head up and pulled the scissors out of Bobby’s chubby little hands
before running over to the window.
“s**t,” I whispered under my breath, then clamped my hand over my mouth in the hopes that none of
the children heard me curse. Just as the children had said, someone was watching us through the
window with binoculars. It was the bodyguard. He was sitting on the hood of the car, looking right in Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.
through our windows! When one of the children waved, he even waved back.
“What’s he doing, Miss Moana?” one of the children asked innocently.
I shook my head and instantly closed the blinds, feeling as though my privacy and the privacy of the
children had been completely violated. Edrick had said that the bodyguard would wait in the car, not sit
outside and watch us with binoculars like he was at the opera!
“Who wants to play duck duck goose?” I asked, clapping my hands together to divert the kids’ attention,
which worked. I had the children sit around in a circle on the carpet, and for the remainder of class,
they played duck duck goose.
However, I couldn’t stop feeling violated by the bodyguard’s actions. I decided that, later that day, I
would have to give the bodyguard a piece of my mind. And later, I would have to give Edrick a piece of
my mind as well.