19
Jack’d had just about enough of this day. It was one of those where he knew nothing was going to go right for him, and he was already thinking about how to spend his evening. He knew exactly what he’d like to do, and he had a good feeling he might be successful in this regard, at least.
He paced down the corridor, listening as the phone rang, waiting for Chrissie to answer. There was a good chance she wouldn’t, especially if she was in a meeting, but Jack hated text messages. If she was tied up, she’d see the missed call and ring him back later.
Just as he was about to hang up the phone, it connected and Chrissie answered.
‘Reporting for detention, miss,’ he joked. The local-school-headteacher jokes were starting to run a bit thin, but Jack reckoned he had a few left in his arsenal
