Girl Meets Class

by Karin Gillespie

  When Dr. Lipton went to the bathroom, I set up my phone to film us. I wanted insurance in case he didn’t keep his word.

  I’m so sorry. You’re right. No title is worth all this. I’m going to show the police this video too, because I don’t want Dr. Lipton to be asking other girls for private meetings.

  Your friend,

  Rosie

  P.S. Both my parents are doing time in state prison. It’s a very sad thing for a kid to have her parents in jail. Now your baby won’t have to go through that.

  I was relieved that Carl was off the hook, but horrified for Rose. She’d experienced so many trials for someone so young. And Dr. Lipton! I always knew he was a creep, but statutory rape put him in an entirely different category. I, too, suspected he’d slept with other Miss Harriet Hall winners. No wonder he always wanted to be in charge of the pageant.

  I composed an email in return.

  Dear Rose,

  You’ve done a very brave thing, and I’m extremely grateful. I’ll be in touch with you soon. I want to help you get through this difficult time if you’ll let me.

  Love,

  Ms. Wells

  All day long I kept checking the Rose Hill Courier website to see if there were any new developments. At seven p.m. there was a breaking news notice: “Harriet Hall Student Changes Story. Principal Arrested.” I scanned the article, looking for the most important part: “The district attorney has dropped all charges pending against teacher Carl Rutherford.”

  Immediately I called Joelle and Aunt Cornelia to let them know the news. I also did something I should have done ages ago. I drove to the police station and reported Darnell’s assault to prevent him from harming any more teachers in the future.

  Three days later I got a call from Harriet Hall. For a second my heart floated to my throat. Carl? But of course it wasn’t him. The voice on the other line was male but unfamiliar.

  “Toni Lee Wells? My name is Mr. Ames, and I’m the new interim principal at Harriet Hall. Several staff members have told me that you may have been unfairly dismissed. Could you come in Monday morning at nine a.m. to talk?”

  I was so stunned it took me a second to reply. I’d never imagined I might be able to get my job back.

  “Ms. Wells?”

  “Yes, sorry. I’d love to.”

  After we hung up, I held the phone to my chest, daring to think that maybe I hadn’t lost everything after all.

  Thirty-Two

  Monday morning found me in Mr. Ames’ office, twitching nervously in a straight-back chair. The interim principal had a sleek desk made of glass and silver tubing that had replaced Dr. Lipton’s imposing Old World model. Sunlight slanted in windows free of suffocating drapes, and the place smelled of lemon cleaner. It felt like Dr. Lipton had been exorcised from the room.

  Mr. Ames was a long-limbed, light-skinned black man with hair cut so tidily it looked like it had come from a spray-can. He wore a white shirt and a skinny black tie, his sleeves rolled up to the elbow.

  After exchanging pleasantries, I immediately told Mr. Ames about the various sins I’d committed under Dr. Lipton’s administration, including my dark days of being plugged into my iPhone when I should have been teaching. I didn’t stall or stammer or try to minimize my transgressions.

  After I finished with my story, the new principal pinched the skin between his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He was silent for so long I was convinced I’d meet the same fate as Dr. Lipton’s desk. Finally he spoke.

  “Ms. Wells. You were a first-year teacher working in a very challenging environment and you received no support from the administration. It’s understandable you’d make some errors in judgment. I don’t approve of the way you handled yourself initially, but it sounds as if you’re now committed to becoming an effective educator.”

  Effective educator? A few months ago if someone had used those words to describe me, I’d have snorted wine through my nose. Now I genuinely liked the sound of it.

  He stood and extended his hand to me. “Welcome back to Harriet Hall. If you’d like, you can go up and visit your students. I’m certain they’re anxious to see you. They’ve been haunting this office, pestering me about your return.”

  After thanking him and leaving his office, I flew up both the staircases leading up to the third floor, two steps at a time, to my classroom. When I entered, the students were busy working on assignments, heads bent over their work, pencils scratching across paper. Vernon was sleeping and snoring loudly. The first person to notice me was Monica; she sprung up from her seat and hollered my name. In seconds, everyone in the class thronged me, squealing, hugging, and high-fiving.

  “You back for good?” Monica said.

  “That’s right.”

  “Snap. I was hoping you’d stay away,” Monica said.

  “Okay then.” I took a step toward the door. “See y’all later.” I winked at the substitute, the same older black man who’d subbed for me after Darnell’s assault.

  Monica grabbed my arm and tugged me back. “Can’t you take a joke, Ms. Wells?”

  “You saying you missed me?”

  “I don’t miss no teachers.” She ducked away from me, but we both knew she didn’t mean it.

  Later that day, I spoke with a couple of faculty members and found out what had gone down at Harriet Hall after I’d been fired. Once Lipton had been arrested, Ms. Evans, one of the participants in the poker game meetings, went to the superintendent and discussed her suspicions concerning Doc and his alliance with the corrupt principal. Doc had been put on unpaid leave until his hearing, and I’d definitely be asked to testify. As for Carl, nobody had any news.

  My first week back at school flew by quickly. On Friday afternoon I stood by my window, passing a hand over my soon-to-be-burgeoning belly. On my desk was a bowl of leftover Christmas candy corn. It was the only vice I had left from those wild and wicked months right after my accident. By now the stores were probably stocking Valentine candy corn, which I’d probably skip. Who wanted to eat sweetheart candy when your one true sweetheart was lost to you forever?

  After Valentine’s Day came Easter candy corn in pastel shades of pink, green, and yellow. By then I’d look like I was smuggling a basketball underneath my blouse. After Easter candy corn was gone, there were several, bleak candy-corn-less months. In September, when harvest candy corn was shipped into stores, I’d be welcoming my new baby into the world.

  I wondered how many candy corn seasons I’d go through before I’d be over Carl. Probably never, considering in a few months I’d have a fist-flailing memento of our brief time together.

  “Toni Lee.”

  I whirled around, startled; Carl stood in my doorway. I stared, assuming he’d shimmer and disappear like a mirage. But he remained, sucking all the oxygen atoms out of the room.

  “Mind if I come in?” Carl said.

  “Please.”

  Since our breakup, I’d thought of him hundreds of times, but seeing him in person made me feel as if I might float up to the ceiling and bump my head on the acoustical tiles.

  Carl dropped a package of pencils on my desk. “They were cleaning out Doc’s office. These were lying around, ripe for the taking.”

  I smiled at his reference to our first encounter.

  “Thank you.”

  “That Doc,” Carl said softly. “Never would have guessed. And I always thought I was such a good judge of character.”

  I lowered my gaze. He was probably lumping me in with the Docs of the world. Carl had no clue about the role I’d played in his name being cleared. Nobody did, except for Joelle and Aunt Cornelia. Not that it made up for my other heinous crimes.

  “Thank God for my brother bailing me out,” Carl said. “I haven’t always approved of the way Mitt makes his money, but I’ll say this: His he
althy bank account certainly came in handy when it was time to spring me from jail and hire an attorney. Maybe sometimes it’s okay to receive a little help from the family.”

  Just not all the time, I thought.

  We silently eyed each other, and an assortment of feelings passed through me—regret, sadness, and as usual, red-hot desire. Carl looked away first, gazing in the direction of the door. I panicked at the idea of his leaving. I might never see him again.

  “Why are you here? Picking up your stuff?”

  “I had a meeting with the new principal. Wanted to see if I could get my job back. Nice guy. Said he’d been hoping to hear from me. Looks like I’m returning to Harriet Hall.”

  “You’re going to finish out the year?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  That was a shocker. On one hand, it’d be thrilling to see him every day. On the other hand, bumping into him all the time would be like picking at a scab. How was I supposed to get over him?

  “And then…?”

  “Then what?”

  “You’ll get a job in Atlanta?”

  “No. Deena and Katherine are moving back to Rose Hill after the year’s out. Deena didn’t care for all the traffic and the higher cost of living.”

  “Is Deena going to be working here too?”

  I tried to hide my horror at the notion. Visions of Carl and Deena nuzzling each other at faculty meetings bludgeoned my brain.

  “No. She’s hoping to get a position as a principal at an elementary school.”

  Sounded as if they’d worked out their differences. Good for them; awful for me. Also, if Carl stayed on at Harriet Hall indefinitely, what was I going to do? Could I tent my growing tummy under muumuus and drop waist dresses for the rest of the year? And what about next year?

  I’d definitely have to change schools after the baby was born, which was a shame because I wanted to stay right where I was. Harriet Hall High School could be a burr in my shoe, but I’d grown to love it.

  “You must be happy about the change in plans,” I said.

  He nodded. “I’ve been missing my sweet girl.”

  I flashed a smile, counterfeit with brightness. “And Ms. Sprague, of course.”

  “Say what?”

  Was he gonna make me say it again?

  “I’m sure you’ll also miss…Deena while she finishes up the school year in Atlanta.”

  A corner of his mouth jerked downward. “Why would I miss Deena?”

  “Aren’t you two back together?”

  “Where did you get that crazy idea?”

  “Your mother said something about it. And when I called you over the holidays, Ms. Sprague answered. She told me to leave her husband alone.”

  Carl rubbed his temple. “That was wishful thinking on my mother’s part. As for the phone, Katherine stuck my phone in her Barbies’ case. Deena must have answered it, and leaped at the opportunity to give you grief.”

  My stomach fluttered. If Carl and Deena weren’t reuniting, did that mean there was a chance for us?

  “Deena and I will never get back together,” Carl said. “I’m not the kind of guy that makes the same mistake twice.”

  Had he guessed what I was thinking? Of course he didn’t want me back. Not after I’d lied and pretended to be someone I wasn’t. No doubt I was as big a disappointment as Deena.

  “So why did you call me?”

  His hands were in the pockets of his gray wool slacks, jingling change.

  “It wasn’t important.”

  “Oh…Although…”

  “Yes?”

  He lowered his lashes. “I wish you’d gotten through.”

  “You do?” I said, completely astonished.

  “Yeah.”

  “After everything I’ve done?”

  “I did a lot of thinking over the holidays. When I was sitting in that cell, I would have done practically anything for bail money. If I’d been you, maybe I would have helped Dr. Lipton for the five million dollars too. That’s a lot of money.”

  “You wouldn’t have done it,” I said, with no doubts whatsoever. “You’re a better person than I am.”

  “Well, you were going to give half of that money away.”

  “Not my original plan.”

  Carl waved away my comment. “But after I broke up with you, instead of holding it against me, you went out and did something amazing.” He grazed my arm with his fingertips. “I know you talked Rose into changing her story.”

  “How did you find out?

  He ignored my question, saying, “Then I discovered you made the decision not to help Lipton with mid-year testing, thereby forfeiting five million dollars.”

  “I don’t understand. Who told—?”

  “I promised not to reveal my source. But I’ll give you a hint…It’s someone who doesn’t skimp on the perfume.”

  Aunt Cornelia! I should have guessed. She couldn’t help but meddle in my life. And maybe that wasn’t such a terrible thing. Carl no longer seemed angry with me.

  Carl inhaled deeply, his broad chest filling with air. “So…I’m thinking that, maybe, just maybe…”

  “Yes?”

  His voice dropped to a near whisper. “This breakup of ours was a mistake.”

  I could barely breathe or talk. Had I heard him correctly?

  “In fact, I’d go a giant step further and say we might want to consider taking things to another level. Remember when I said I loved you and wanted to spend the rest of my life with you?”

  I’d never forget it. It was the last time we’d been together, and I’d screwed it all up by saying, “Give it to me, baby.” He’d given it to me all right. My little shrimp cocktail was doing backflips in my uterus as we spoke.

  “I decided that if I ever had another chance with you, I needed to back up my words with action.” Carl reached into his pocket and withdrew a small green box. Then he dropped to one knee.

  I felt myself get dizzy again. He was proposing for real, and this time, I had no doubts about what my answer would be. I was weak with happiness, but the feeling passed as quickly as it came. Suddenly I understood why he was proposing. Aunt Cornelia must have told him I was pregnant.

  I turned away from him. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t accept that ring.”

  “You can’t?” To his credit, he made an effort to sound upset.

  “You don’t really want to marry me. You’re only asking because of what Aunt Cornelia told you.”

  And frankly, this time my aunt had gone too far. So much for changing into a tolerable person.

  “Told me what?”

  “Don’t pretend.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “That must have been one quickie trip to the jeweler. Probably went through the drive-thru.”

  “I’m confused.”

  I whirled around to face him. “When did you get the ring? Today?”

  He bit his bottom lip. “I have a confession to make.”

  Finally, I thought. The man was Honest Abe; he couldn’t help but tell the truth.

  “I bought the ring a couple of weeks ago. I was going to give it to you the night I told you I loved you. But when you didn’t say it back…” He slowly stood, a pained look in his eyes. “I decided it would have to wait.”

  “Let me get this straight. You were going to propose that night after I was assaulted?”

  He nodded.

  “Hold on…You really don’t know, do you?” Maybe Cornelia hadn’t told him everything after all.

  “About what?”

  I swallowed. “Here’s the thing. I’m…”

  “Yes?”

  “We…”

  What if he wasn’t happy with
the news? He already had one child. Maybe that was all he wanted.

  “Go on.”

  “You and I…We’re expecting.”

  “Expecting what?”

  “A lizard. What do you think? A baby, Carl. We’re expecting a baby. I’m pregnant.”

  “A baby?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You and me? A baby?”

  I wondered if this was all too much too soon. Maybe he’d fear I was trying to trap him, and he’d go back to not trusting me again. Wasn’t it the oldest, most hackneyed tale in the book? Boy dumps girl, girl shows up on doorstep with a bun in the oven.

  “Listen. If you want to take the ring back, I certainly—”

  “Are you crazy?” Carl tenderly put his hands on the sides of my face. “I just can’t believe it.” He glanced down at my midsection. “Pregnant?”

  “That’s what the pink line said.”

  His eyes looked shinier than usual. Was he going to cry?

  “Wait,” he said. “Let me do this right.” He knelt on one knee again and pried open the box. Inside was a simple oval-shaped diamond solitaire. “Toni Lee Wells. Love of my life. Will you marry me?”

  I paused. “There’s something I have to tell you before I answer.”