My Roommate Is a Vampire(54)

I couldn’t tell if he meant that or if he was just being nice. Either way, I definitely agreed.

“I hope the judges like it.”

What if they didn’t, though? I’d been so preoccupied with simply finishing this piece I hadn’t let myself think about what I’d do if it was rejected.

It would be okay, though. Eventually. It would suck in the short term, just like all the rejections I’d gotten over the past ten years had sucked. But I liked this piece, even if I was the only person who ever would. That had to count for something.

As Scott resumed taking pictures, I went back to the cubicle where I’d stashed my things and pulled out my laptop so I could review the email I’d drafted to David before I sent in my application.

And I nearly jumped out of my chair when I saw the email I’d just received.

    From: Cressida Marks [[email protected]]

To: Cassie Greenberg [[email protected]]

Subject: Interview—Harmony Academy

Dear Cassie,

I am writing to let you know our hiring committee has evaluated your materials and would like to bring you to campus for an in-person interview. We are conducting interviews the last week of this month, and every Friday in December. Please let me know at your earliest convenience whether you are still interested in the position and, if so, what your availability is on these dates.

Sincerely,

Cressida Marks

Head of School

Harmony Academy



I read the email from Cressida Marks again, too stunned to believe that what I’d just read was real.

“Are you okay?” I startled at the sound of Sam’s voice. He peered at me from where he stood by Scott, worry lines notched between his brows. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Not a ghost,” I assured him. “I just found out I got a job interview I wasn’t expecting.” That was the understatement of the year. I’d only applied to Harmony Academy because I was having a good day and I’d had all the application materials on my hard drive. I hadn’t expected anything to come of it.

And now, just a few days later, Cressida Marks, the head of school at Harmony Academy, actually wanted to interview me for a job.

How was this real?

“That’s great news,” Sam said. He smiled, pulling out a chair from the main table and sitting down. “What’s it for?”

I hesitated. This situation was surreal enough as it was. It felt like if I told another living person about it, the opportunity would vanish in a puff of smoke. I didn’t have a teaching credential. That might not matter to Harmony; some of my classmates from Younker had been able to get teaching positions at private schools without one. But the fact that my entire portfolio was light-years away from what parents wanted their kids to learn in art class would almost certainly matter to a school looking for someone to educate their students.

Sam, though, didn’t seem to pick up on my self-doubt.

“It’s a position at a private school up in Evanston,” I eventually said. “Teaching art at their high school.”

“That’s fantastic!” Sam’s smile grew. “You’re so talented, Cassie. And you’ve seemed to enjoy art nights with the library kids, right? That school would be lucky to have you.”

“You really think so?”

Sam walked over to Manor House and paused, studying it. “I do,” he confirmed. “Of course, I know more about corporate mergers than I do about art. I admit I don’t know exactly what I’m looking at, but I can tell, just from looking at it, that you know.” He smiled at me. “You are someone with vision, and who is passionate about that vision. Who better to teach young people about something than someone who cares passionately about what they do?”

His words surprised me. Sam had always been supportive of me and my goals, but in a vague, I-love-you-but-I-don’t-really-understand-you kind of way. This might have been the most effusively he’d ever praised my skills in all the years I’d known him.

“Thank you,” I stammered, at a total loss. “That . . . really means a lot to me.”

“If you need to give them references, you can give my name if you like.”

I snorted. “You’re my best friend, not my current employer.”

“The offer stands,” he said, with conviction.

“Thank you, Sam,” I said. “I . . . just, thank you.” And then, without thinking, I added, “I can’t wait to tell Frederick the news.”

Sam looked at me, one eyebrow raised. “I’m sorry. Who can’t you wait to tell? I didn’t quite catch that.”

“Um.” I reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “Just Frederick.”

Sam was smirking at me now. “Just Frederick, huh?”

“Yes,” I said. “Frederick. My roommate.” Roommates told each other things, right? Why was Sam acting like this?

“Why are you blushing?” Now even Sam’s smirk was smirking.

“What? I’m not blushing. It’s just . . . warm in here.”

Meeting Frederick in person had apparently put Sam’s mind at ease that I wasn’t living with a serial-killer monster. Which was great, of course. Even if a bit ironic, since Frederick was a literal monster.