Confessions from the Principal's Chair

by Anna Myers

  "Bird!" Rendi was starting to sound more angry than guilty. "This is ridiculous. If I pay for these things, you are going to have to wear them. Do you understand me?" She was still holding the navy skirt and jacket. Then she whirled around and started hanging them back on the rack.

  "So you won't buy these for me?" I folded my arms and stared at her.

  "You're trying to do what I used to hear my mother call cutting off your nose to spite your own face. You're trying to hurt me, but you will only end up hurting yourself Let's go look at some jeans or even go to another store." She reached for the other suits in the basket, but I put out my hand to stop her.

  "I want the five suits," I said, and I took the navy outfit from the rack again, piled it on the top, and started to push the basket.

  "Fine, but you are going to get very tired of wearing those things to school, very, very tired." She stomped after me.

  "You must really like this suit," the lady who checked us out said to my mother as she folded the clothes to put them into bags. Then she looked at the size, and asked, "or are these for you?"

  "No," said my mother in a sort of too-sweet tone. "Actually, I wouldn't be caught dead in them." She glanced at me and smiled a false smile. "These are for my daughter. Her taste in clothing seems to have changed lately."

  I didn't say anything, but I stood my ground and glared right into Rendi's eyes. I would wear those things to school every day I had to go to Thomas Jefferson Middle School. I would wear them until my "hang loose" artist mother fell to her knees and begged me to forgive her. I would wear them until we loaded our van and went home to Denver, home to the Six-Pack.

  The woman who checked us out put the bags of clothing in the cart with the other things we had bought, and Rendi started to push it out of the store to our van. I stopped her, though, and gathered up the three bags my suits were in. "I want to carry my clothes," I said, just like I used to want to carry the bags that had toys in them when Rendi bought me something while we were shopping.

  She just looked at me, sighed, and shook her head. "Those things are probably too long for you," she said as we left the store.

  "Remember I am tall. Besides, I like long skirts," I told her, and I marched out to the van. On the drive back to Prairie Dog Town, Rendi did not sing, and neither one of us said a word. We drove by the Pioneer Woman, but neither of us looked or said anything about her. I sat back in my seat and thought about how good my purchases made me feel. Not only had I made it plain to Rendi how she had destroyed my life, those clothes would make my life easier at my new school.

  It was October; groups had already been formed in any class of eighth-graders. I sighed. The truth was that in a middle school in a place the size of Prairie Dog Town, the groups had probably been formed since kindergarten.

  The kids at Thomas Jefferson Middle School were sure to think I was a weirdo when I showed up in a long suit like their grandmother might wear (my own grandmother wouldn't be seen in such things). It would be easier that way, easier to be rejected because of the way I dressed than just because no one wanted me around. I dreaded the thought of the first day at the new school less now. I would walk down the hall, and they would all stare at me openly. It would be better this way.

  Rendi had made arrangements on Friday for our Internet connection, but they had told her it would probably be Monday before we could get online. We were surprised when we got home Saturday to learn that Judy had let the workers in, and our phone and Internet had been connected while we were gone. I spent all the rest of that day and most of the next writing long e-mails to my friends about how Rendi had almost gone to jail and about my choice of clothing. I could hardly wait for them to write back to me.

  The computer was on a desk in the living room. On Sunday afternoon, I saw Sheriff Walters drive up and park in front. For a minute, I thought he had come to check on us, but he went into Judy's side of the duplex. Pretty soon I saw them both go out and get in his car. I guess they both had Sunday off and were going out for a hot date or something. I waved to them. Judy was such a nice woman, and I was beginning to have a warm spot in my heart for the sheriff too. I mean, what if I had really been kidnapped?

  On Monday morning I was up early. I pulled back my hair and tied it loosely with a black scarf. Then I put on the navy suit and a pair of black flats that I had hardly ever worn. There was a long mirror on the back of the door in my room. I stood in front of it staring at myself. I didn't even look familiar. I took a tube of lip gloss from my bag and put on just a bit. For a minute I considered taking off the suit and begging Rendi to take me to return those five outfits. I could buy some other things and start school the next day. Finally I got my courage back. "You look wicked," I said aloud. I was certain that Rendi would be ashamed of my appearance and know she had ruined my life.

  "Good morning, Mother," I said when I came into the kitchen. She was eating cereal at the little table beside the window. An empty bowl with a spoon sat on the other side of the table along with a box of my favorite cereal and a jug of milk.

  "Good morning, Daughter," Rendi said. She smiled, pleased that she had come up with a good reply. "Would you like some orange juice?"

  "No, thank you, Mother," I said. "In fact, I don't want anything for breakfast." I twirled about slowly. "How do I look?"

  "Very nice," she lied, and she stood up. "If you're sure you don't want to eat, we can leave now for your school."

  "No!" I shook my head. I hadn't thought about Rendi going with me, but, of course, she would plan to go enroll me. I desperately wanted to go alone. I was afraid of what would happen if Rendi went with me. I was afraid I would break down when she got ready to leave. I was afraid I would cry like a kindergarten child whose mother leaves her for the first time.

  "Bird, there will probably be something that I need to sign. I know you're mad at me, but the school is still going to want to see me. They will want to know there is really an adult involved, that you're not a runaway living under a bridge or something." She walked to the fridge to put away the milk.

  "You can go tomorrow. I'll tell them you will sign stuff tomorrow. Please, Rendi. This is very important to me."

  I guess my going back to her name convinced her because she said, "Okay."

  I didn't go straight to school. I walked around, going a long way out of my way. I wanted to get to school after the first bell had rung. See, the thing was I wanted to walk down that hallway for the first time when it was empty instead of being full of strange eyes.

  Until I got hit in the face with the date, I was kind of enjoying the pretty morning, but then I realized it was October 31, Halloween! Tonight my friends would be having a party without me. I considered just walking off. Maybe if I got back to the interstate, I could get a ride to Denver. Of course, I knew I would be too scared to do that. At least, I wasn't likely to get murdered at Thomas Jefferson Middle School.

  I kept looking at my watch, and finally it seemed safe to head for the school. A ramp for wheelchairs went up one side of the wide stone porch, and there were big steps going up the front. On the first step, I stopped, drew in a deep breath, and imagined what stage directions Miss Deirdre would give me right now. I could almost hear her voice saying, "Hold your head high, Bird. Go into that big building and fill it up with who you are. Enter as if you were in charge." I straightened my shoulders and climbed the steps.

  Just as I had hoped, there weren't any other kids going into the building. Everything looked pretty quiet. I would never admit it to Rendi, but I liked the feel of the old building. There were these neat old wood floors that were polished and shiny. I liked the smells too, old wood and polish, and something that made me think of all the kids who must have gone to school in the place.

  On the doorway I had seen a sign saying, "All Visitors Must Report to the Office." Well, I was ready to report. The office was just inside the building. From halfway up the walls were all glass, so I could see into it from the hall. A long counter separated the room into
two parts. The first part was small and it had a few chairs. Most of the office was behind the counter. A lady sat at a desk with a computer on it. Behind her was a door that said "Principal" above it. I didn't see any offices for a vice principal or a counselor. Thomas Jefferson Middle School was probably too small to even have people for those jobs.

  I pushed open the door, stepped into the office, and walked to the counter. When the door closed behind me, the woman glanced up from her computer. I thought she must be between Rendi and my grandmother in age, probably fifty-something. She looked like a person I wouldn't want to have mad at me, but when she noticed me, she smiled and said, "May I help you?"

  "I'm Robin Miller," I said. I was about to add that I wanted to enroll, but the woman didn't give me the chance.

  She jumped from her chair, and her smile got real wide. "Oh," she said, "we didn't expect you until Wednesday, but come in. We are so happy you are here. Let me show you your office."

  I was so surprised that I didn't say anything or move a muscle. The woman went to the little swinging gate that made it possible for people to go in and out of the inner office. She held the gate open, "Come this way, Ms. Miller," she said. "I can't tell you how thrilled we are to have you. It's been so hard not having a principal since Mr. Lawrence got sick. I just don't know what we would have done, if you hadn't been available to fill in."

  My mind raced. This woman thought I was some sort of substitute principal. Wasn't this wild? I opened my mouth to explain, but I seemed to hear Miss Deirdre's voice again. "What a marvelous role, Bird," she said. "Who would have thought you would find such a wonderful part to play in Prairie Dog Town, Oklahoma. Go for it, darling. You can doit!"

  I moved to go through the little gate. Why not have some fun on my first day at Thomas Jefferson? When I was in the inner office, I put out my hand to the woman. "Tell me your name again," I said. "I was told, of course, but I am afraid I've forgotten." I smiled. "Truth is, I guess I'm a little nervous on my first day."

  "Nancy," she said, and she squeezed my hand. "Nancy Simpson. Welcome to Jefferson Middle School." When she let go of my hand, she motioned for me to follow her into the office. "Of course, we expect Mr. Lawrence back after Christmas, but I took the pictures off his desk and some of the personal things off the wall, just put them in a box in the closet. I'll have it all back when he returns, but I thought you might have your own things."

  "I do have," I said. "My mother is an artist, mostly a sculptor, but I have a painting or two she's done also. I'll bring them and a small bust of Shakespeare she did for me when I got my master's degree." Most of that was a lie, but I thought it sounded good. To my personal knowledge, Rendi has never done a painting, but I suppose she had to do them in college some, and, of course, there is Richard, the missing father figure. Maybe that's what made me say painting. That idea about W. Shakespeare came to me because Rendi had made a piece like that for one of her friends in Denver, who did get a master's degree.

  "How lovely," said Ms. Simpson, "and now you're working on a dissertation for a doctorate, and you so young."

  I faked a small laugh. "Oh, you're flattering me now. I'm not so young, although I will say I still get carded sometimes when I go into a nightclub. It's an irritation now, but my mother tells me that these days of looking so young go quickly."

  Pretty good one, huh? I'd heard a friend of Rendi's make that very same speech once. I was starting to be really glad that I am what our school counselor calls an "auditory learner," which basically means that I remember what I hear. I thought when she told me about the auditory stuff that I would rather have a photographic memory, but maybe being able to repeat what I've heard is very useful for me, now that I had so suddenly become a school administrator.

  Mrs. Simpson laughed. "Your mother is right. She certainly is. Well, I'll leave you alone to settle in. I'm sure you won't have peace for very long. The teachers have been saving some discipline problems for you to handle." She walked out of the office, then stepped back inside and said, "Don't you be nervous, dear. You have old Nancy Simpson to help you." Then she went out and closed the door behind her.

  My knees had got all weak, and I sank into this big comfortable chair behind the desk. I put my face in my hands. What had I done? This was crazy! I couldn't keep this masquerade up for long. When had Ms. Simpson said they expected the real substitute principal? Wednesday! Yes, that was it. Two days. Could I last that long? Probably not, but maybe I could last until lunchtime. Being the principal would be better than sitting through two or three boring classes, wouldn't it?

  I relaxed a little. Then another thought came to me. What would they do to me when they discovered I was an imposter? Would Sheriff Clyde Walters come and take me away in handcuffs? They wouldn't execute me. How bad could prison be? No worse than being in the eighth grade at a new school. I was pretty sure of that.

  The phone rang, and I froze. Should I answer it? I would have to, wouldn't I? My hand was shaking when I reached out for it, but suddenly it stopped ringing. There was a knock on the door, and Ms. Simpson opened it just enough to stick in her head. "Should I show you about the phone?" she asked.

  I wanted to make some excuse for not answering the ring she had obviously heard, but I couldn't think of any. "Yes," I said. "That would be nice."

  She came around to my side of the desk, reached for the phone, and pushed a button. "I'm sorry I didn't do that earlier. When that button is pushed, you don't hear the phone unless I have answered and am putting the caller through to you. When I do put through a call, you will hear a ring and this button will light up." She pointed to the second button. "You also have a direct line to Superintendent Morris. When the phone rings and the second button lights up red, it's the Soup's office calling. The third button will light up green when the call is from anyone in Mr. Lawson's office over at the high school. Mrs. Newton is the principal at the elementary school, and her button is the fourth one. It flashes orange. It's simple. When you want to call those places, you just push their button."

  She reached for a pad and pencil lying on the desk. "Here let me write it down for you." She repeated as she wrote, "Button one, white, Nancy. Button two, red, the superintendent, Mr. Morris is his name. I call him the Soup, but not to his face. Button three, green, Mr. Law son, high school. Button four, orange, Mrs. Newton, elementary school. To call any of those people you only have to push their button. Just keep the note handy until you learn." She put down the pad, then picked it up again. Beside elementary school, she wrote, "Deaf." "The woman is almost deaf, can't hear well at all on the phone, but let me tell you she is sharp. Those kids don't get by with a thing nor anyone else either. Mrs. Newton doesn't miss a trick."

  Pray Mrs. Newton doesn't call or show up, I said to myself, but it wasn't the elementary principal who I had to worry about. Of all things it was Angie from the City Café, but I am getting things out of order again. Angie didn't come until lunchtime. Well, not long after I had the phone explained to me, it rang, and a light started to flash. I grabbed Mrs. Simpson's note. The red light meant a phone call from the superintendent. I picked up the phone. "Good morning, sir," I said in the most adult-sounding voice I could come up with.

  Mr. Morris laughed. "Now don't start calling me sir. I'm feeling ancient enough already. You call me Kenneth, like I told you. Almost everyone does, you know. I'm sorry to say it doesn't look as if I am going to make it over to visit with you today or even tomorrow. Things are stacking up around here, you know, and I am about to leave for a two-day conference on school finance in the city. I'm glad we got to have lunch together last week, gave us a chance to get acquainted, you know. Well, how's it going? Didn't you tell me you couldn't come until Wednesday? I was surprised when I heard from Nancy Simpson that you were here, you know."

  The man liked to say, "you know," but I didn't have time to think about that. He was questioning why I had shown up today. An answer came to me. "I found I was able to make it a couple of days early, anxious to get on the
job. That's all right, isn't it?"

  "More than all right, it's good. A school can't get along well without a principal, you know. Lawrence has been out two weeks already. Discipline problems are stacking up, you know. I'm afraid we've got us a couple of teachers over there who can't control the kids very well. No, the truth is there are three. You'll find out right away who they are. They've no doubt been saving up their discipline problems to send to you. I'm certainly glad you've had so much training in the area of discipline, you know."

  He paused, and I knew I was supposed to say something. "Well, troubled kids have always interested me a good deal," I said with all the maturity I could muster in my voice. "Actually, I've been closely involved with some."

  "When I met you, I said to myself, this lady is young, but she has something special, you know. I feel certain you can handle the job."

  "Thank you, Kenneth," I said. "I feel certain I'll never forget my first time as a principal even though it may be brief."

  "Well, good. There's one more thing. It's Nancy Simpson, fine woman, mighty fine. She's efficient too, practically runs the school. Well, that's the problem. She can sometimes forget who's in charge around there. She'll help you, but don't let her get the idea you work for her. She'd take over if you let her, you know. Well, mighty glad to have you, you know, and I'll be over to visit with you on Wednesday."

  I told him thank you and said good-bye after he did. Then I sat in my chair smiling. It appeared no one but the superintendent had actually met this substitute principal, this other Robin Miller. I might actually last longer than lunchtime.

  This could be the most fun I've had in a long time. I wished there was someone to tell. There was the computer, but I didn't want to e-mail. I wanted to talk to someone now. I looked at the clock. Nine thirty. That would be eight thirty in Denver, and Katie would be almost to school. She'd have her cell with her, and I could call her on this school phone. I reached for the phone and dialed the familiar number. "Hello," I said when she answered, "what are you doing?"