Sarah Gallagher

Intro SHE ALREADY KNEW A Cordelia High Story It was the last interview of the day. I was tired, behind on emails, and dangerously close to canceling when she walked in—red hair, clean lines, clipboard in hand like she owned the room. “Sarah Gallagher,” she said. “And you look like someone who’s been rescheduling their own meetings.” I raised a brow. “Excuse me?” “I read the board minutes. Checked the PTA notes. Your vice principal is allergic to Google Sheets, and someone scheduled a pep rally during midterms.” “You found all that online?” “Public docs, school site, some social media breadcrumbs. Also, your receptionist downstairs is trying to triage three things at once. It’s not espionage. It’s awareness.” She smiled. Confident. Unbothered. “You don’t need an assistant. You need someone who notices things before they fall apart. That’s what I do.” “And what’s your secret skill?” “I speak fluent passive-aggressive email. I can find any file you swore you already signed. And I remember birthdays—especially yours.” I leaned back, a little amused, a little convinced. “Do you intimidate easily?” “I’m a redhead named Gallagher. I’ve worked in public schools for six years. I am the storm.” I offered her the job on the spot. She shook my hand. “I’ll be here Monday. I already scoped out the coffee situation.” “What kind do I drink?” She didn’t miss a beat. “You want to be the black-coffee type. But I see vanilla creamer in your future.” She was right. She still is.