The Gray House

by Mariam Petrosyan

  Godmother was alone among those in the break room in having a presentable appearance. Trim, collected, resembling an aging French actress, she took position behind Shark, arms crossed, and the shoulder pads of her gray suit seemed tailor-made for military patches.

  “So. Graduation,” Shark repeated meaningfully. “At our last meeting I called upon all of you to give this issue some serious thought and prepare suggestions.” Shark thrust his hands in the pockets, rocked on his heels, and added, “I shall now hear those suggestions.”

  He fell silent, and it took the counselors a couple of minutes to realize that the introductory speech was over. They exchanged puzzled glances. Whatever else, Shark was never known to be succinct. For him to come to the point was usually the labor of the better part of an hour, giving everyone else enough time to finish their coffee, exchange some whispered gossip, and even catch a couple of winks. They’d acquired a knack for appearing to be listening to Shark’s speeches while engaged in their own little distractions, and now, deprived by him of their customary ration of forced boredom, felt almost cheated out of it.

  “I’m waiting,” Shark reminded them after the brief pause and fell silent again, to everyone’s consternation.

  Sheriff was first to get his bearings back. He yanked at his suspenders a couple of times before droning, “So, my suggestion is gonna be like this. On the night before the graduation we all go to our groups, right, and we stay there in the dorms and maintain order. Until morning.”

  He cast a proud look around.

  It was obvious that this was going to be rejected out of hand, but it allowed him to project the aura of a tough guy.

  “If I may be allowed an observation.” Godmother stepped forward and planted herself in front of Shark. “To make your plan a reality, some of us would have to become twins.” She rested her gaze on Ralph. “And that is to say nothing of the situation in our quarters. Where we have thirteen dorms and four counselors. I am afraid you have not taken that into account.”

  Judging by Sheriff’s grimace, he’d never even heard about this until today.

  “Um . . . I mean, how many have you got?” he said.

  Darling giggled.

  “We are caring for fifty-six young women,” Godmother articulated. “Housed between nine four-bed rooms and four six-bed ones. If I were you I would not be so ready to admit ignorance of such basic facts about the place where you’ve been working for years.”

  Sheriff was not to be intimidated that easily.

  “Come on,” he scoffed. “Like I would ever go there. I’ve got enough trouble as it is. All right, if’n that’s so, let’s knock our heads together some more. We can get all the girlies in one place. When it’s just for one night it’s not gonna be a big deal.”

  “Speak for yourself!” Darling exploded. “And what, pray tell, is that place you’re talking about? The lecture hall? I for one am not too thrilled to be cooped up on graduation night with dozens of deranged girls in a place that doesn’t even have adequate sanitation. How do you propose we take them to the bathroom? Under armed guard? Or will you provide each with a personal chamber pot?”

  Sheriff broke out into his infamous convulsive laughter. Swaying back and forth on the windowsill, he slapped his thighs, gurgled, and snorted, and his checkered polo shirt seemed ready to split apart under the assault of this much mirth.

  Godmother finally took a seat. At the very edge of the chair near the door, still facing the counselors; more like a stern teacher in the classroom than one of them.

  While waiting for Sheriff’s exuberance to ebb, Shark pointedly stared at his watch.

  “That’s a winner!” Sheriff wiped his livid face with a battered handkerchief. “I’d pay to see that . . . Your stuck-up heifers . . . all in a row . . . holding the potties!”

  A more conscientious person would have been skewered to the spot by the look Godmother was sending him, but not Sheriff.

  “Now if your fertile imagination has fully enjoyed this picture, can we, perhaps, move on?”

  Shark’s sarcasm also missed wide. Sheriff’s thick skin made him almost invincible.

  “Sure, why not. Let’s hear it,” he agreed. “So my idea didn’t fly, I get it. Let’s have others give it a shot.”

  “Thank you,” Shark said icily.

  And now if he says “Anytime” Shark is going to throw him out, Ralph thought. No one ever gets fired during the last term, but Shark will make an exception.

  Luckily for him, Sheriff said nothing. Shark gave him another minute of the silent treatment and then, satisfied that there were going to be no more remarks coming from the windowsill, went on.

  “Anything else?”

  Darling rose up. She gracefully smoothed out her skirt and puffed her silver bangs to the side.

  “I have a very simple suggestion,” she said earnestly. “We lock ourselves up on the third and let the night take its course. It’s not like we have any idea what they’re planning anyway. They could sleep quietly through the next morning, for all we know. Or they could throw a farewell bash. After all, don’t they have a right to celebrate the occasion? It’s the same in every school.” Darling batted her lashes and smiled obsequiously at Shark. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “This isn’t a plan, it’s a surrender,” Shark snarled. “I am not entertaining any more ‘run and hide’ proposals, or their variations, at this point.”

  “Well, then.” Darling shrugged, doing her best not to show how hurt she was. “I have nothing further.”

  Shark stared at Ralph. Transferred his gaze to Raptor, waited a moment, then waved a hand in invitation. Godmother stood up. Observing Shark’s pointed courteousness as she took his place, Ralph realized that those two were in collusion over this. He didn’t like it.

  Godmother nodded to the assembly. Reset her spectacles. Cleared her throat.

  “I cannot conceive of supporting the last proposal, even though it would be preferable to some others we have heard today. In my turn I would like to offer two ways to approach the current predicament. Please be assured that both of them were exhaustively researched to encompass all eventualities.”

  Godmother spoke so softly that it seemed any noise, no matter how insignificant, would make her inaudible. Everyone strained their hearing in order not to miss a single word. A well-worn speaker’s trick, but you had to admit—she really could make it shine.

  Sheriff was leaning precariously off the windowsill, cupping an ear with his hand. Advertising his hearing problems. One could almost believe that the requisite earphone wires snaking into the ears of each Rat, deafening them, all somehow had ended up in his ears as well. At least, this was the impression he was trying to convey. That it was a workplace disability.

  Ralph felt the rising tension. Something was about to happen, and happen very soon. Godmother was nodding at Shark and he leered at her in return. They behaved like two conspirators who didn’t care to conceal their conspiracy.

  “As all of you must be aware, the graduation is officially scheduled for the seventeenth of June,” Godmother went on. “I recommend moving it up. If the graduation happens earlier than anticipated, we may reasonably expect the pregraduation night to remain free of incidents. It goes without saying that under no circumstances should any students be apprised of this. The whole enterprise hinges on maintaining the utmost secrecy.”

  There was a well-placed pause.

  The counselors exchanged glances. Sheep’s eyes filled with tears. Homer applauded quietly. Raptor shifted excitedly.

  “Well, I’ll be! That could just work,” he blurted. “It really could! What a nice idea.”

  “It could work,” Darling admitted sourly. “Unless they get wind of it.”

  Ralph didn’t say anything. The thought of doing this to them didn’t sit well with him. Declaring the graduation at the moment of graduation? It was low, it was unfair, it was cowardly. Very Shark-like, in short. But . . . Raptor was right—it could work. Had he any right to tak
e away something that would guarantee them a month of peace? Especially when not offering anything in return?

  So—silence, which also could be taken for acquiescence.

  “In the interest of avoiding disclosure it will be necessary to institute restrictions on the communication between the students and their parents.” Godmother gave the counselors a severe look. “All calls to parents must take place exclusively on the third floor, and only with one of us present throughout. All visits to be approved on a case-by-case basis by the principal, with all visiting parents briefed in advance. Under no circumstance should we be mentioning the date being changed either in personal conversations or in written form when finding ourselves beyond the third floor. My strong preference would be for that rule to be observed even here. The telephone currently located in the staff room, I propose to eliminate. There is a suspicion that students do avail themselves of it.”

  “Yeah,” Raptor whispered. “Suspicion my eye. They’ve been using it for ages. Who’s this hag think she is?”

  “And in conclusion.” Godmother’s voice became louder as she shot a disapproving look at Raptor. “In conclusion. The true date of the graduation shall be known to two persons only, our esteemed principal and myself.”

  Ralph imagined hearing the thud of Raptor’s jaw hitting the floor.

  Homer shot up, waving his hands madly. “This . . . It’s an outrage! What do you mean—we don’t know the graduation date?”

  Sheep surprised everyone by piping up, in a reedy squeak, “I object! This is disgraceful!”

  The explosions from the two most cowed counselors made Sheriff’s menacing growls seem insignificant by comparison. Raptor peered ahead fixedly, gripping the arms of his chair. Ralph desperately hoped that he himself did not look stunned quite to that degree. Godmother, composed and self-assured, calmly weathered the barrage of hostile stares. Ralph couldn’t but admire her composure.

  “Allow me to explain,” Darling said when the excitement died down.

  Clearly impressed by Godmother’s grace under fire, she did her best to appear equally dignified. It was painful to watch.

  “What you’ve just suggested is impossible, for several reasons. One,” she said, flashing a purplish-pink fingernail, “one, they need to gather and pack their belongings. It takes time. Two, parents! Even assuming that you do not reveal your secret date to us, you’ll have to tell them, right? Why do you assume they would keep silent? And when the day comes, some of them are going to show up early, the others late, and then there will be those who will simply inform us that they can’t quite make it on that day but anytime else is fine with them, and so on. Imagine the mess! More than a hundred students suddenly finding out they’re being taken away before having time to pack, say good-byes, put on makeup, write farewell notes, or whatever it is they would want to do . . . and add to that the parents—and us, also completely frantic, because . . . because we, imagine that, had no warning that the graduation was going to happen on that particular day! It’s ridiculous! Just four of them leaving today has reduced us to ruins, and now you’re expecting—”

  “Please. Calm down,” Godmother interrupted Darling’s effusive oration. “This is not the end of the world, as you seem to be imagining. Especially if we can keep our wits about us and refrain from inflating the issue to apocalyptic proportions.”

  “Right.” Shark, visibly downcast, perked up. “It’s not that bad. We went over the procedure in great detail, secured the assistance of certain third parties, and expect that with their help unrest can be prevented.”

  “And who would those parties be?” Darling inquired.

  No reply was forthcoming.

  Godmother paced the room, arms folded firmly.

  “I have an impression that you do not fully appreciate the need for maintaining complete confidentiality,” she chided, stopping by Homer, cowering in his chair. “Our pupils are nothing if not perceptive. The least misstep, from any one of us here, and the secret will be out. It is not even necessary to actually mention the date being shifted. An unusual burst of activity. A concerned expression. We could be sending signals and not realizing it. I am not talking about preparations.” Godmother glanced in Darling’s direction. “But if for no apparent reason our belongings started disappearing from the staff room, it would attract attention. I want to stress that it is possible to slip unintentionally, thus endangering the entire initiative.”

  “I’m not arguing with you.” Homer waved his hand feebly, obviously imagining that the harangue had been directed at him. “You have been quite clear. I apologize for my outburst.”

  Godmother was smiling, looking over his head at Ralph.

  He smiled back.

  I get it, Iron Lady. Running around in panic—that’s Homer. Darling has a packing fetish. Sheriff is a windbag. Raptor can betray himself by the triumphant look on his face. Sheep, by the long-suffering one. But what about me? What is it you suspect me of? Are you imagining I’m going to run straight to them and blabber about those precious plans of yours?

  He caught that “yours” in his own thoughts, cringed, and half closed his eyes.

  Is that really how I’ve put it? “Yours” and not “ours”? Maybe she really does have a point there, the old bitch.

  “I am waiting for confirmation,” Shark demanded. “From everyone. No exceptions. Now. Because I do not intend to return to this after we vote.”

  “I mean, I agree it’s a clever plan,” Homer said hurriedly. “Even though I am annoyed at the lack of trust the administration has demonstrated.”

  Darling snorted, “Oh! Lack of trust. That’s what this is called now? Nice!”

  “Do you agree or not?” Shark demanded.

  “I agree.”

  “I don’t,” Sheriff grumbled from the windowsill. “Precisely for that reason. Making me into some kind of old gossip who can’t be trusted with keeping a secret? I’d sooner resign than put up with this kind of attitude!”

  “Perfect.” Godmother nodded. “No one is keeping you in the House by force. If your decision is final, prepare your resignation letter. The principal will sign off on it.”

  The silence that fell on the room was disturbed only by the blades of the ceiling fan slicing through the air. Godmother, speaking for the principal in front of him, made everyone uneasy, and Sheriff doubly so.

  “Now this is going too far!” he blurted. “Where d’you get off jerking people around? Who gave you that authority?”

  “Everything our esteemed colleague expressed here has been discussed with me,” Shark said gleefully. “Discussed and approved.”

  The expression on Sheriff’s face was hard to describe. Ralph never imagined that he could be that shocked.

  Where have you been for the last thirty minutes, you silly little man? How come you’re only now getting what we all have already understood and accepted?

  “And unless you decide to reconsider, please make sure that the letter reaches the principal’s desk within twenty-four hours,” Godmother demanded. “We need to know definitively whether you are leaving or staying.”

  “I am not about to resign this close to the end of the year!” Sheriff roared.

  But he couldn’t quite put his usual bluster in it.

  “In that case I will thank you to refrain from more empty threats in the future.”

  Sheriff slumped sullenly on the windowsill. He looked like an irritated gargoyle that’s put on weight. Looking at him, Ralph even felt a twinge of compassion. He thought that if now Godmother were to tell Sheriff to get off the window and sit down on a chair properly, he would most likely capitulate.

  Luckily Godmother was above petty gloating. It was obvious to everyone that Sheriff had been comprehensively defeated and his humiliation was to serve as a warning for anyone foolish enough to contemplate insubordination.

  Godmother was now circling around Ralph.

  “Let’s move on with the voting,” Shark prompted.

  They moved on with
the voting.

  When Godmother’s suggestion secured a majority, Shark applauded briefly (Homer decided to join in but stumbled when he saw that no one else did) and then requested for the second suggestion to be revealed.

  “I am trembling with anticipation,” he announced, rubbing his hands together.

  “Look at him trembling,” Raptor muttered under his breath but perfectly audibly to Ralph. “I wonder how many times you two have rehearsed this.”

  “Yes, the second part of the plan.” Godmother looked squarely at Ralph. “I propose that we remove from the House some or all persons whom we, after careful consideration, deem dangerous. Persons who are psychologically unstable, behaviorally maladjusted, and at the same time capable of influencing the rest of the student body.”

  Ralph leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. There it was. Now it was his turn to protest and be cut down to size. Godmother was in for an unpleasant surprise.

  “Ah!” Darling perked up slightly. “That’s interesting. So who are they, these dangerous, influential crazies? I am looking forward to the naming of names.”

  Raptor, on the other hand, darkened.

  “I vote no!” he said, jumping up. “This will only provoke them. We’ll get exactly what we’re trying to avoid, only earlier.”

  “I vote yes,” Homer said. “A very reasonable and timely action.”

  “I have a question.” Sheep dutifully raised her hand, like a student in class. “Are you planning to include girls on that list?”

  “Certainly if you can think of a specific candidate,” Godmother said, fighting back a smile. “We would be happy to consider her.”

  “God forbid,” Sheep squeaked. “I would never!”

  “So we’re talking about boys, mostly?” Darling pressed on.

  “Yes. The so-called Leaders.”

  Raptor grabbed his head.

  “I suggest we discuss Sphinx, from the Fourth,” Darling said. “Popular, influential, and clearly a disgusting character. A real pervert, if you ask me.”

  “There are no unstable persons in my group,” Homer pronounced proudly. “I ask for the First to be excluded from this conversation.”