"Sleep at this point is just a concept, something I'm looking forward to investigating in the future."

~Amy Poehler

"If Kristen finds out that you're going to Mr. Watson's classroom instead of Miss Rudy's..." Barb whistles. "You'll be in for it, honey."

"Pfft," I scoff. "Kristen won't be able to do anything to me because she might get dirt on her Anne Taylor slacks. Besides, she doesn't own the PTO." I stir around the greasy chicken noodle soup in its styrofoam bowl.

Barb takes a bite of the quinoa she brought from home and shrugs a shoulder. "Whatever you say, but I'm warning you...be like the rest of us and cower in fear every time she walks by."

"Sounds like good advice."

Barb puts her quinoa aside and folds her hands on the table. "So, I never got to ask you...are you married? Or, you know, seeing anyone?"

I roll my eyes and try not to gag. "There's more to life than a significant other!"

"Oh, I know, I was just curious," Barb says gently. She unscrews the cap of her water bottle (that is, of course, filled with coffee) and takes a swig.

I shake my head. "No. There's no one."

"Has there ever been someone?" she pries.

I bite the inside of my cheek and sigh. "There was...once. We decided to go out because my mom was about to set me up with a monk from Canada who thought succulents were instruments of evil. We went to high school together, and I guess he was a nice guy, but we only dated for a few months until he got arrested for running some sort of Ponzi scheme on Kmart before it went out of business."

Barb gaped at me. "And that's it?"

"Yeah?"

"Ohh, this is exciting!" A glint forms in Barb's eyes.

"No," I say quickly.

"You don't even know what I was gonna—"

"You're going to try to set me up, but I'm here to tell you to get in line. You and the other two-hundred people in Chestnut Ridge are always trying to get me together with some rando who has a receding hairline. But I'm fine by myself, okay? And plus, I have three nieces that I'm trying not to stuff into a blender, so a guy is definitely not going to be conducive to my current situation."

Barb lifts her hands in surrender. "Okay, hon, I get it!" A tender look comes across her face. "I just remember when Tim and I first met. It was at a Celine Dion concert in Wisconsin. This group of people started passing around cigarettes and we both said "no, thanks" at the same time! We haven't looked back since."

"That's really...disturbing," I say, "but endearing."

A faint beep comes from the kitchen in the cafeteria and Barb immediately stands up. "Coffee's done!"

~~~~~~~~~

Janet, Barb, Hayden, and I linger after the morning meeting on Friday. David, the businessman, is in the corner again, typing away on his laptop.

"What does he do, anyway?" I ask.

"He has an eBay empire," Hayden replies. "Since my wife left, I've been working in the Wal-Mart Deli, so I've been trying to get David to tell me his secrets—he's rich, by the way—but I can't ever get it out of him."

"Huh," I say. "What does he sell?"

"We try not to ask too many questions," Janet says, meditatively rubbing the table with a Wet One. "I think he sells black market items."

"No way!" Barb giggles. She leans on her elbow towards me. "I think he's an antique junkie."

"That guy?" I laugh. "I guess I can see it."

"Oh, oh!" Hayden chimes in. "Maybe he's a kidney broker!"

"That still falls under the black market," Janet reasons.

"No, it doesn't, and I can hear you," David says from the corner.

We all wait for him to give us the real answer, but when he doesn't, we all fall into a short silence.

Janet folds her hands and sits up. "So," she starts.

Barb leans in like a giddy schoolgirl. "Oooh! What? What?"

"The Josephs are hosting the Halloween party this year...at their house." Janet nods knowingly as Hayden and Barb gasp.

"So they are rich," Hayden whistles.

"Wait a second," I say. "Who are the Josephs?"

"Kristen," Barb murmurs.

I knit my eyebrows together. I've heard that last name before. "What are her kids' names?"

Janet glances at me like I'm ruining her big news. "Uh, Annabella, Tank, and Carter."

Carter. Carter Joseph.

I stand up suddenly, knocking my chair down behind me. "He's the kid that got into a fight with Jemma!" I cry.

This story clearly takes precedence over who hosts the Halloween party. The three of them gasp in horror.

"I always knew that little punk was trouble," Hayden mutters.

"Well I'm not having it," I say. "If that kid wants to go pushing around girls and thinks he can get away with it, he and Kristen have another thing coming to them."

Janet stands up, giving me a grave scowl. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

I consider her for a moment, trying not to laugh. "I'm not stepping into Nazi territory, Janet."

"Just think about it," she says. "Because you're already not on good terms with Kristen, and she can get nastier at the drop of a hat."

I lick my lips but shrug it off. "Justice must be served."

I leave the silence of the meeting room and stalk down the hallway. I remember someone mentioning that Kristen spends a lot of her time party planning in the front offices.

Sure enough, when I go into the lobby, she's sitting at a desk like a real employee, back perfectly straight and lipstick perfectly applied. With her blonde hair in shiny waves, she looks like the 1940's secretary who uses her good looks to get what she wants.

"Kristen," I say pensively. "Can I talk to you outside?"

"I'm very busy," she replies, not looking up from the papers. She picks up a folder and opens it, but I pluck it out of her hand and set it aside.

"The National Skunk Appreciation Day party can wait. We need to talk."

Kristen glares at me for the flash of a second before her red lips form a perfect smile. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and glances at the other women in the office. "I'll be back, ladies. Margie, don't forget the mom on line one."

"Oh, thank you, Kristen!" Margie replies.

Oh, thank you, Kristen! I mock in my head. Kristen might as well stand in the center of the room so everyone can worship her and sing her praises all day.

"I didn't know you actually worked here," I mutter as we go into the hall.

"Oh, I don't," she says. "But the girls there were sweet enough to give me a desk. You know, with all the work I have to do to help our kids get better educations."

I give a sarcastic smile and say, "Aww, well maybe next time National Suck-Up Day comes around, we can parade you through the school on top of a golden chariot. Maybe name a bench after you or something." I put a finger to my chin. "That reminds me! Speaking of child education, might I suggest teaching yours a little better?"

The fake smile Kristen has plastered to her face immediately melts away and her brow settles into a scowl. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, your kid—Carter, is it?—got into a fight with my niece the other day. No big deal, really. But the funny thing is that Carter never got in trouble. Now, why is that, Kristen?"

"Carter would never get into a fight," Kristen laughs. "And even if he did, he would never start one. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You don't?" I cross my arms.

Kristen glares, and I know she's not going to back down. This time, I don't push her. The lines will be drawn soon enough.

"This isn't over," I say through gritted teeth.

"Watch yourself, Beverly," Kristen replies. "Everyone in this town knows you. It won't be hard to drag you through the mud."

I clench my jaw. "See you on the soccer field, Kristen."