April McCray stared at the stack of essays turned in by her literature class, regretting having assigned the essays in the first damn place. Twenty-five kids meant twenty-five essays, each five pages long. What the hell was she thinking? This is going to require some wine. Lots of wine. She ran a pale hand through her long red hair. At least I have all of spring break to read through them.
Pushing herself away from the table and those infernal essays, she made her way to the kitchen and the bottle of Merlot screaming her name on the counter. She desperately needed this break. The school year had been long, and the students rowdier than normal, especially Brady O'Leary, one of the leprechaun teens who seemed to think his lucky charms highly sought after by some of the female students. That
