I couldn't concentrate.

My brain was throbbing. And the smell of the big boxes of donuts on the tables just outside the Superintendent's office door was making me sick to my stomach.

They were meant to be a special treat for the district staff. But the thought of food made me queasy the morning after Rusty's.

So, I took a tiny sip of the bitter hangover tonic AJ had handed me on the way out. They sold all these little bottles of "medicine" at Ahn's. Some just loose on the shelves and some really expensive ones in big, fancy looking boxes locked up in special glass cases like the kind groceries stores lock up the expensive whiskeys and champagnes in.

He also had some sort of probiotic thing you could sip before you hit the club—that wasn't Korean, though. It was some kind of new thing that changed how your gut dealt with all the alcohol some kind of way.

But of course, we hadn't planned to wind up line dancing to all kinds of crazy country songs in a little ramshackle saloon off I-10 that just happened to be owned by a dude who went to Mexico a few times a year looking for the freakiest friggin mezcal he could lay hands on. Gave us women this sweet, almost creamy one that tricked us into drinking 'way too much.

It's a nice high, the high you get from mezcal. More druggy than boozy. At least that's how it works on me. So, I slung my arms around AJ's neck and let him sway me through all these twangy, sobby, Old School country songs only a little throwback bar like Rusty's would still have on the jukebox.

I hated that shit usually. Even though a lot of my older family members actually played it right alongside their "gut bucket" blues songs that also drove me nuts. They were "kin" to each other, those two kinds of music. AJ mentioned that, in fact, while we were swaying.

Born of the mixing and matching that went on both socially and genetically down in "rebel" country despite all the old taboos. One of the eldest family women I'd known as a child could "clog" like you see white people back up in the Appalachian "hollers" do. She'd raise up her long skirt a little bit and go to stompin'. And I'd laugh myself into a hiccup fit every time.

The memories of her and that sweet, slow sway at Rusty's soothed away some of the pain. But Jerrod's face—Brawley, remember? The interim superintendent I actually liked?

Yeah, let's get back to the morning after all that swiggin' and swayin'.

Jerrod had excused himself to take an urgent call just as I sat down in front of his desk. But he was turning this oversized paperclip end to end, end to end, end to end on his big desk with the hardest eyes I'd seen since I looked into the rheumy gaze of that old Lloyd guy at the end of the bar the day before who got grumpier and grumpier as the night wore on.

Sat there hissing crazy shit to himself over the drinks AJ paid for. Probably hating himself for accepting them. God, how awful it must be to be mad at the world all the goddamned time.

It sure was awful to feel the way I did that morning. I kept rubbing the ring on the chain around my neck like I was trying to make AJ appear like a genie or something.

And he did, in my head. Looking all sleepy sexy...

It was so hard to leave our beds the mornings after by then. I hated to shower off the nights before.

Wanted to take all the sights and sounds and tastes and smells out into whatever world I was headed for like an invisible force field all the crazy would just bounce off of.

The herbal drink was easing the pain some by the time Jerrod hung up and said, "Okay, well, there's no way to make this any less painful so let's just rip the Band Aid off fast."

And then he folded his arms and let out a sigh that told me to drink the rest of that tonic right quick.

"Our two schools will be closing this summer," was the very bad news he'd called me in for.

And the pain that caused was 'way worse than my hangover headache.

It was the beginning of an end we'd always seen coming, actually. Dreaded, but anticipated.

Now, Whitman wasn't Paradise for sure—far from it. The existence of The Quarters proved that point pretty graphically.

But it embodied some of the history a whole lot of people were trying to erase in 'way too many parts of the country at the time. Around our way, they were trying to turn all that complicated history into a kitschy Disney ride that wouldn't trouble the tourists.

And also...well AJ and I had sat in some of those classrooms, ran down the hallways, ate in the little cafeteria with the Grand Canyon murals on the wall and stared at each other across that playground we talked about all the time.

We'd stood up on a bench outside that building and done the whole Titanic thing only a few weeks before, as much out of a need to be carried back to and comforted by those memories as to finally get past what had kept us apart all those years ago.

Somehow...I managed to say, "Will they just...tear everything down, or...?"

Jerrod stared down at that big paper clip and said, "I don't know. They don't know. It just...I got the call about an hour ago to have one-on-ones with all the department heads, but..."

He deflated back against his leather chair and said, "I wanted to see you first."

I looked into his haunted eyes and sighed, "Just do the Band Aid thing again, please."

He sighed right back at me and said, "They're cooking up this weird...PR stunt with all those fancy chefs in town—"

"Let me guess. They're gonna run the cafeterias, right?"

"They're going to create the menus, mostly, but...they met with the consolidation committee 'way back when the developers were first starting to discuss all this. So the developers are going to hype it up big, along with the whole campus concept--Michelin star cafeterias, right? Run by Michelin star winning chefs, anyway."

My little, "Wow," was pretty feeble. I mean, most of the people I grew up around wouldn't know what a Michelin star was, but the people moving in...

And Jerrod said, "You fit the profile, on paper. Originally. Celebrity chef on site. They're building something like the student union buildings on college campuses—two big cafeterias with all kinds of little stations with different...cuisines they can choose from."

"On site like...I'd be working in those cafeterias?"

There was this super long pause while he searched for a way to tell me exactly how far I was about to fall. I mean...I totally respected the kitchen staff I'd been managing—don't get it twisted. In some ways I envied them for being out there in the trenches actually cooking instead of shuffling paper and dealing with all the office politics and whatnot.

But he zigzagged on me and said, "Well, actually that idea went out the window this weekend when...whatever happened, happened."

"They made that happen, though."

"They made it happen because they had already promised your position to that woman with the big catering thing. The one with the famous husband—they fit the profile to a 't.' They'll be the faces in all the press material. Monsieur et Madame Sevigny—got a nice bourgie ring to it."

"I thought that was why they brought in Barbie Doll."

"They gave her Instructional Technology, actually. Dawned on them that we were going to have to get the staff up to speed on all the state-of-the-art tech stuff we'll be using. Especially the holdovers from both of the old districts."

I fell back in my chair and shrugged. "So, do I have a job or...?"

"They're sort of...trying to create something. Between you and me—and this is why I called you in here as soon as I hung up the phone—the district lawyers warned them that you might be able to sue them after that inspection stunt they pulled. That was someone from outside the district taking matters into their own hands to impress the suits. But you were still publicly—"

"Humiliated?"

"Well, yeah. You could sue for defamation or something—their big plans could blow up in their faces public relations wise, unless they can make you a pretty tasty offer. That's where the student union idea started. You were picture perfect initially. This...Black celebrity chef they could put on all the posters around the campus and whatnot—maybe even in the press packets with the Sevignys."

I glared. And he shrugged. "Yeah, I know. But then the parents heard about the inspections so..."

"They wanna keep my filthy hands off the food."

"C'mon, man. You really wanna be out there slingin' burgers in the friggin' cafeteria?"

"Michelin star burgers, thank you very much."

He tilted his head...and just kind of waited. And the look in his eyes made something 'way deep down inside me start to sizzle a little bit...

And then...a few seconds later...I erupted all over that man like a one of those volcanos that explodes after churning and burning and building up pressure under the surface for centuries...