Its ends with a bang

Cutting your car engine, you stare up at the building. "Tempest Central High School, home of the hurricanes," the sign said. Googling it during lunch, you learned of the four high schools in the city; it was the largest, with 2236 students last year.

Opening your car's door, the heat and humidity of the day hit you as you began to stride to the main doors. Looking around, you could see a couple of hundred students still on campus despite classes ending an hour ago. Despite knowing better, you would swear that the girls walking around were showing far more skin than they did when you were in high school. But on the upside, you didn't see any of the big hair that had been the craze either.

Opening the doors, you enter the school and stop. Staring at the brightly lit corridors and the displays of trophies and awards, it momentarily takes you back. Shaking off the nostalgia, you enter the main office, seeing a secretary finishing up her work for the day.

"May I help you?" She says, looking up at you.

Looking at her nameplate, you reply, "Yes, Alice, I'm Jason Clarkson, and I have a meeting with Principal Smalley."

"The principal asked me to send you back to her office when you arrived, Mr. Clarkson," Alice replied, pointing to the principal's office.

Nodding thanks, you walk over to the door and knock. Enter, you hear through the door. Entering the office, Principal Smalley welcomed you, motioning you to sit down.

Sitting down, you take in the principle. She was 5'10" and looked to be in her mid-30s to early 40s. She looked to be a D cup and obviously took good care of herself. All in all, Barbara Smalley was what your nephew would call a milf. Looking at her desk, you saw what appeared to be a fairly recent photo of her with twin daughters, who definitely took after their mother, and a smiling man who you assumed was her husband. Glancing at her hand, you could see no ring, indicating a story there.

"Let me get right to it, Mr. Clarkson. Yesterday the daughter of Donna, one of our two US history teachers, called, informing us her parents were killed in a car accident last week." She informs you.

"Oh my god," you interject.

"She was a great teacher whom the students loved, but this leaves us in a lurch. I have a position to fill, and a parade of substitutes is not in the students' best interest." She finished.

"I'll take the job, Principal, but I hope it's permanent as opposed to just for the school year." You ask.

Nodding, she says, "I'll be frank with you, Jason, you would not be most administrators' first choice, but I don't care. I have to balance student welfare versus pressure and demands from the school board and state. And what they don't need is an endless parade of substitutes."

Nodding, you say, "Very well, you have yourself a teacher."

"Excellent," she replies.

Handing you the contract, you check to see that it has everything you two discussed, and you sign.

After you sign the contract, Barbara, with an embarrassed look, says, "One more thing, Mr. Clarkson, you see, Donna wasn't just a history teacher; she was also a cheerleading coach. I don't have the budget to hire anyone else, and I was wondering..."

You groan.