Page 65 of The Fall
Everett
“Mr. Maior?”
I glanced up from cleaning paintbrushes in the child-sized sink at the back of my classroom and found Janice Turner watching me, her brown eyes amused and mildly annoyed, like she’d been saying my name for a while and I hadn’tresponded.
Not a huge surprise, since I'd been pretty distracted since the meeting two daysago.
“Principal Turner,” I said, clearing my throat. I turned back around and switched the water off, drying my hands on a paper towel. “Sorry. This is my, uh, unofficial, end-of-week meditationhour.”
Cleaning brushes was one of those mindless tasks that I found really calming. There was something about watching the color swirl down the drain, rinsing until the water ran clean, and knowing that there was a specific, measurable point when it would befinished, unlike so many of the things that filled my life. I tended to get really into it, to zone out and ignore my surroundings, which was why I saved it for the end of the day onFriday.
A smile ghosted across the woman's lips. Her eyes roamed the classroom, surveying the little displays of artwork I’d set up, while I stood awkwardly crumpling and un-crumpling my paper towel. Ms. Turner was the sort of person who seemed born to be a teacher - friendly, authoritative, and just a tiny bit intimidating. She was maybe forty years old but looked closer to thirty, and though she’d instructed me to call her Janice numerous times, I justcouldn’t. Not even in myhead.
“You’ve had a busy year already,” sheremarked.
I nodded. The woman didn’t know the half of it. I felt like I’d lived three lives since coming to O’Leary. Hell, I'd lived two of them just this week, especially after Karen had dropped her little bomb at the meeting the othernight.
“I remember thinking, when I spoke to you on the phone last month, that you weren’t particularly excited about the idea of teaching this year, especially younger students.” She shot me a look I couldn’t read and walked toward the bulletin board I’d lined with pictures of leaf rubbings my second graders had done. “I was glad you’d said this would only be a year-long commitment.” She traced a finger down the line of aleaf.
I stood a little straighter and hid my clenched fists behind my back. It wasn’t like the classroom was my private space, obviously, and none of the projects lining the walls were my own, but I still felt protective of them. The kids who’d worked on them — the insanely talented ones, the ones who insisted on drawing cats with two legs, and everyone in between — had worked hard. If she wanted to judge my lack of teaching ability, I’d be really pissed if she picked on the kids’ work in order to make apoint.
“But I was wrong, Everett. And I hope you’ve changed your mind about teaching,” she continued, turning on her heel to give me a bright smile. “Because if you leave, I will never hear the end of it.” She scooted herself onto the edge of a short desk and braced her hands behindher.
“Wait,what?”
“The kids don’t stop talking about howcoolyou are, the parents are crowing that the art display at Lilac Day will beleveling-upthis year, you bought the teachers’ affection with pastries fromFanaille…”
“That was only onetime.”
“We’re a bunch of pastry whores, Ev. It doesn’t takemuch.”
I threw the paper towel in the trash and leaned against the edge of my desk. My stomach fluttered with leftover anxiety and acute relief. “I figured you were coming in here to fire me orsomething.”
She laughed out loud. “Please. The parents would firemefirst.”
“No, theywouldn’t.”
“Maybe not, but only because no one else would take the job.” She winked. “So, tell me. Are you enjoying the kids?” She looked pointedly around the empty classroom, and stage-whispered, “You can speak freely. This is a judgement-freezone.”
I laughed. “No, I do. I really like it.” I was surprised how much. I’d assumed I was coming here to teach a bunch of backwoods philistines and instead, I was the one getting schooled. “I appreciate you pulling strings and helping me figure out how to qualify for the transitional teaching certificate. I never would have figured it out on myown.”
“You’re very welcome. And I really hope you’ll consider finishing your certificate and staying on, even after the year isover.”
I hesitated. Staying in O’Leary? Even semi-permanently? The idea didn’t fill me with panic the way it might have even a few weeks before, which clearly showed that the town’s cult-programming was both subtle and effective. But a permanent thing, when in just two weeks I'd already managed to become an emotional wreck in my personal life? I wasn't sure that was a good idea atall.
Then again, maybe it was a small victory that I kind ofhada personal lifeagain.
Maybe.
“Don’t give me a decision now,” Principal Turner said. “You have months before you need to decide. Just, you know… meditate on it.” She winked toward the sink in the back of theroom.
“I will,” Ipromised.
She jumped off the desk. “Alrighty then. I’m going to get ready for dismissal. Make sure the fourth and fifth graders lived through their assembly and no one died ofboredom.”
“Which assembly was that?” I asked. “Oh, please don’t tell me it was the reproductiontalk.”
She laughed. “No, that one comes later in the year and you’ll know when it happens. Mara usually has us over to her house afterward for a debrief… and alcohol. Lots ofalcohol.”
