drawn that. He didn't know how he could explain it to Emily if their daughter did.
He reached the end of the back wall. The next wall had windows that looked out at
the parking lot. Most of the cars had already left. If he had arrived later, he
would have gotten a better spot. He parked his car at the farthest end.
Whistling came from outside the room.
William couldn't place the tune. He tried to remember if it was a vocal melody or a
guitar solo being whistled. Whatever it was, he had heard it before.
“Hello,” a female voice from behind him said.
William spun around.
The art teacher was about his age. She had long dark brown hair and was wearing a
blue bandanna on her head, which was covered in dried paint. The blue brought out
her eyes.
“Mrs. Spencer?” William asked.
“Yes, well Ms. Spencer,” she replied. “And who is your child?”
“Sasha,” William responded. “I'm her father, William.”
“Thank you for coming, Mr. Further,” Ms. Spencer said. “Why don't you grab a seat
and we can discuss your daughter's performance.”
Ms. Spencer sat behind her desk. William grabbed a seat and moved it up to the
desk.
“I'm hoping my daughter is doing better here than she is in her other classes,”
William joked.
“Well,” Ms. Spencer started. “She can do some pretty good work but most of the
class she spends on her phone.”
“I think she gets that from her mother,” William responded.
Ms. Spencer giggled. “Be that as it may, she is creative when she wants to be.”