Page 1 of Bad to the Bone

PART 2

By Tuesday it was all anybody was talking about. Not that they were talking to me. Well, not exactly. But questions that begin with “did you hear” are generally thrown around like “how are you doing”? Nobody really means them, and yet you are required to answer, and that answer demands a reply. So when Ms. Simms, a math teacher who wore themed blouses and oversized round glasses that made her look the world’s saddest Elton John fan, asked me if I had heard I said no. And, after looking around as if she were being stalked by the paparazzi (or the fashion police) sat me down on a stone bench under a tree on the far side of the quad to hash out the latest news.

“Apparently the mayor has been paying for abortions,” she said with a giggle.

“What?”

“Yes, it all came out. There’s proof. No names of the people he was paying for. I mean, we assume he was paying for himself but… not himself, duh. He obviously can’t have one. But the rumor is that the women he was paying for. Well. You know. He did the dirty deed and he was just trying to clean up his mess.”

“Oh?” I was as shocked by her willingness to talk to me as I was by her bit of news. My mind immediately flew to Zayne and his family, and his poor mother.

“I know right. As much as he tries to promote traditional family values. Whatever that means. Sounds to me like he is keeping up the long standing tradition of men stepping out on their wives with young girls,” she giggled again, but this time with something less friendly and innocent in her voice.

“Oh,” I said.

“Anyway, I just thought you should know...the secret is OUT!” All the friendliness that had been there a moment ago drained from her animated face as she stood up and sashayed away. I felt like I was being accused of something, but for the life of me I couldn’t understand what.

I didn’t see Zayne in school that day.

I worried.

It wasn’t until that afternoon, as I was dropping paperwork off in the office before leaving for the day that I got some clarity on the situation. The secretary, who normally left as soon as the last school bus pulled out of the parking lot, was still there, tinkering with an ancient typewriter.

“Good afternoon,” I said over my shoulder, not expecting a reply.

“I’m retiring at the end of the week, dear.”

“Huh?” Again, the shock of her response warred with the shock of the news.

“I am leaving in a few days. I’m retiring.”

“Do you have any plans?” That’s what you’re supposed to ask in these kinds of situations, right?

“Oh, I’m going to live with my daughter and spend some time with my grandbabies. But that’s not why I’m talking to you,” she said, getting up from her chair and walking over to where I stood.

“Can I help you with something?”

“No, but I’m going to help you. You’re such a pretty young thing, and I hate to see you end up in a bad way because of some fool.”

Again, the feeling of being accused assailed me.

“Do you know why everybody around here keeps their distance?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so. Do you know who Tom Turner is?”

“He’s the mayor, right?” And my boyfriend’s dad.

“Yes, but do you know him?”

“No.”

She eyed me suspiciously, as if she hadn’t yet decided whether I was telling the truth or not, and was reluctant to continue.

“Well, I’ll tell you. He’s a son-of-a-bitch, and he seems to have his eyes on you. I don’t know why or how, but I suspect that if he hasn’t had you yet, you’ve probably been very lucky.”

“Had… Wait...me?”

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