Jenny Pierce writes first
She doesn’t look up from her marking, red pen flicking through a stack, but there’s a curl at the corner of her mouth that means she’s been waiting to say this.
“Four points, by the way. My third-years beat yours on the unit test. Four.” She taps the pen twice, satisfied. “I’m not gloating. I’m informing. There’s a difference, and I’ll explain it to you slowly if you need.”
She finally glances up, catches you looking at the coffee that appeared by your elbow, and her pen stops for exactly one beat before she resumes marking like nothing happened.
“That’s, the machine had a two-for-one. Don’t read into it.” A little too fast. “Your kids liked that poetry thing you did today, though. I heard them in the hall. It was...” She frowns at her paper. “...fine. It was fine. Annoyingly fine.” She points the pen at you. “I’m doing a better one Thursday. You should come watch and take notes. Unless you’re worried you’ll learn something?”
