Can happiness flourish after tragedy?

My entry in the Reader Retention contest.

I’m in a bind. Not just any bind, the type of bind that normally means you’re in deep shit. I’m currently staring at the decorated walls of the principal’s office. The constricting room was littered with paper and folders. Pictures of his family were ornamented on top of the mess and the trashcan was full of fast food. The principal sat in front of me. A balding middle age man still tall and not any less attractive. Not that I’m into men or anything.

As asked, I filled out the form and returned it early the next morning. The whole day passed in me taking notes, talking with a friend and catching up with the newest drama. You know your average school day. Around mid-afternoon, a student who belonged to the 4H club returned saying the Benton PTA Board had approved my request and informed me to wear a nice dress, but not too nice. Again the rumor mill started to turn, this time the rumor centered on the going ones at the old Lomond Farm.