Misfit Toys

By JC Doan

Ever since her sister stole her fiance, Hailey Jones has been living in her grandmother’s beauty shop. All she wants now is a quiet, ordinary life. But between one mishap after another at work, her grandmother’s antics, and her sexy but strange new neighbor, it seems like her peaceful existence will forever be out of reach. Still, you can’t keep a strong woman down. Hailey is determined to keep her head up and not let the chaos derail her life ... until the same sister that betrayed her seven years ago is arrested for murder.

Misfit Toys is an anthem for anyone who’s ever had a really bad day. It’s a story of family drama, forgiveness, second chances and, above all, the ties that bind.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JC Doan
• Release date: Apr 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005853365

JC Doan

Evernight Teen author ❣️

Book preview

Misfit Toys

by JC Doan

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Cover by germancreative.

Copyright© 2022

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission.

Dedication

Long live the Survivors’ Club.

Chapter One

Suspenders and porn. Now, there’s two words you never think you’ll use together.

Sure, Hailey remarked, not bothering to glance up from the inch-thick stack of papers she was grading. Then she paused as the words sank in. Wait. What?

Her grandmother lowered the binoculars just long enough to deliver a stern look over her bony shoulder. You should see what that man is doing over there, Hailey Marie.

What? What’s he doing? Instead of chastising her grandma for spying on the new neighbor again, she dumped the clipboard and pile of essays on the couch. Suspenders and porn? Let me see.

Grandma passed the binoculars over. Okay, but it’s ugly.

The man in the house next door was naked except for a pair of Minions underwear held up by bright green suspenders. And Gran was right. He was watching a dirty movie.

Oh. My. God.

And they say nothing ever happens in Ohio. Grandma made a grab for the binoculars. It’s always the lesbians. I saw a whole thing about that on Donahue. Men love lesbians.

Hailey snatched them back, then tossed them onto the couch. Stop spying on the neighbors. It’s bad for business.

Is not. Beauty shops run on gossip. And business is booming ever since that one moved in next door. Gran fluffed hair that, with a little help from a bottle in recent years, was almost as dark as Hailey’s. If you need me, I’ll be in my room. Where she undoubtedly had stashed a second pair of binoculars.

Hailey just shook her head and settled back onto the sofa before moving to the next essay in the pile. It took all of thirty seconds to check off every question on both sides of the page.

Accepting a long-term assignment at Villa Grove Junior High had seemed like a good idea back in January. Four months covering a sixth grade English teacher’s maternity leave? Piece of cake. Hailey had been an English Lit major. Granted, college had been a few years ago, but things hadn’t changed that much. And while she’d loved spending the past seven years subbing full time, lately the constant sea of new faces and last-minute schedule changes had begun to wear on her.

Three and a half months ago, Villa Grove had been a perfect opportunity for a much-needed breath of fresh air. A sound decision, one even her older sister, Treva, had supported. Talk about a shock. Treva was thirty-three—only a year older than Hailey—going on sixty and showed no signs of easing up anytime soon. Hailey couldn’t remember the last time her sister had offered praise instead of criticism. Really, Hailey? A substitute? Isn’t that for college kids and retirees? I know you dropped out of college, but still. You need to go back, you know. To school. Unless you actually want to live with Gran for the rest of your life. Speaking of Gran, how is she?

The only move Treva had fully backed within recent memory was Hailey’s decision to get rid of Michael, but that wasn’t saying much. Not even Treva could support staying with a man who’d been screwing around with his girlfriend’s younger sister.

Gran thought she’d had it rough dealing with one sister. Hah. Try living with Treva and Maddie. Hailey marked the page with a bold red zero before flipping it to the bottom of the stack. She was running on black coffee and nerves and was tempted to put off grading the rest of the essays until later that night, maybe even tomorrow during plan period. But considering that, at the moment, her options for entertainment were either window peeping or thinking about the day she’d come home from junior year finals to find Maddie in bed with Michael...

Hailey turned back to the essays, mentally bracing herself when she spotted the name at the top of the page. Dylan.

Question one: Where do you see yourself in five years? In ten? Dylan had scrawled Happy wife, happy life on the line below the question.

How did the speaker inspire you today?

His response? Keep slangin bro.

Hailey sighed. Career day is a bitch.

****

The twelve-year-old boy holding the newly sharpened pencil to his own throat wasn’t the worst thing to happen that week in room 209. In fact, it wouldn’t even have made the top five in the chaos that was Mrs. Clementes’s sixth grade English class.

Hailey blamed the flamingos. The classroom was filled with them: flamingo clocks, stuffed animals, and a desk that was littered with the pink paraphernalia. None of which could be mentally healthy for a roomful of pre-teens. She edged closer to the boy, careful to keep her eyes locked on his and block out the whispers and stares of the other students. She barely noticed the sporadic lightning streaks firing in the sky, just outside the windows of their classroom.

Tyler, come on, let’s talk about this. Soft voice, non-threatening. The effort was rendered mostly useless by a boom of thunder.

No. But this time, he lacked the conviction of a few minutes ago, when Rachel Lowe had rolled her eyes and thrown his note away at the start of second period.

Another tentative step. You’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you.

Tyler’s blue eyes took on a hard glint, and his grip steadied on the Ticonderoga number two. Bullshit. I’m going to die alone.

Die alone? You are twelve years old. Sweet baby Jesus, why did I agree to sub for this class? The point of the pencil dug into Tyler’s skin, narrowly missing a huge pimple just below the space where neck met cheek. Hailey froze, then lifted her hands. Okay. Okay.

Rachel stood up so fast she knocked her chair over. Tyler, wait! I’ll go out with you.

Hailey frowned. You will not. Then, Tyler, you can’t just—

You’re just saying that because you feel sorry for me, he accused.

I’m not! I swear I’m not. Rachel worried the pink strands in her black hair as she pleaded with him. The rest of the class held their breath as they took in the scene unfolding before them. Outside, the sky finally opened up, and rain began to come down in heavy gray sheets.

The pencil pushed deeper, and when Hailey could no longer see the lead tip, she ditched diplomacy and jumped over the flamingo-print bean bag calm-down chair. Tyler panicked. He immediately dropped the pencil and ducked his head, using his branch-like arms as a shield and looking for all the world like he was about to be attacked, not saved.

Then all hell broke loose.

Chapter Two

Riot! a boy shouted.

What looked suspiciously like a hot-pink, flamingo-shaped metal stapler whizzed by Hailey’s head. It missed her by a mile, if she had even been its intended target, and hit the large window beside the chalkboard. Glass exploded, sending shards mostly outward to the sidewalk far below and leaving a jagged hole in the window frame. Warm wind and pelting rain quickly filled the space. Loose papers swirled in the breeze created by the storm. And over the noise of all that, thirty simultaneous voices, one of which yelled, Tornado! The announcement was quickly followed by screams and stampeding feet as several of her students began to flee.

Hailey should have been shocked at the fact the room was spinning out of control around her. But not much about room 209 or its tween occupants surprised her anymore. Wild Things meets Shakespeare, with a side of Days of Our Lives. Yeah, what else was new? She stood front and center and planted both fists on her hips. "Everybody freeze."

Her teacher voice, honed to perfection in the trenches of middle schools all over Auglaize County, turned the words into a command that would be followed, or else. Two kids who’d been in the process of jumping ship halted in the doorway, backs going straight.

There is no tornado, Hailey continued, hoping her tone carried out into the hall, where the majority of her class had disappeared to. The storm began to dissipate, dying down almost as quickly as it had come, just another Midwestern late morning pop-up shower. The damage was done, though. Most of her students were probably halfway to the office already, or in other classrooms, maybe even hunkered down in the bathrooms at the other end of the hall. She motioned for the handful of kids who were actually in the room to reclaim their assigned seats even as the hall began to fill with confused students and concerned fellow teachers.

We aren’t having a tornado. Look, Hailey insisted once Rachel crawled out from under Tyler’s desk and peeked up at her through the now messy strands of neon-colored bangs. See? It was just a storm, Hailey said before picking up the classroom telephone and calling the front office to let the school secretary know there was a broken window in her classroom but no injuries—and that she needed a janitor. And an assistant principal to round up her lost flock.

But the window— Stacey began as soon as Hailey ended the call. The girl stepped out from where she’d been crouched beside a slate-gray shelving unit. Her fellow student and Villa Grove Gazette writer, Allison, remained kneeling on the floor, scribbling in her ever-present legal pad, probably recording the events for the school paper. Fabulous. Just fabulous.

But that window— Stacey said again.

"Was the flamingo