Page 29 of A Better World

Nobody answered. The pause was too long. Linda scanned faces, saw that Anouk appeared openly annoyed, her eyes narrowed, her chin receding like a turtle’s into her ugly shawl.

“Can I join?” Gal didn’t wait, just pulled the free chair to the space opposite Daniella, like a second head of table. “Can I have a glass, too?”

“Gal, this is private,” Daniella said. “You’re too busy, I’m sure.”

“Busy with what?” Gal asked. That high-pitched voice seemed put-on and babyish.

“Packing?” Rachel asked.

Gal shot Rachel a wounded look. “I don’t leave ’til Monday, and the only thing that belongs to me is my kids.”

Daniella looked about to chastise Gal. But then, as if Gal were a ball of infinite energy that would bounce and smash against everything in the room unless carefully handled, she stopped.

Gal turned to Linda. “You’re the new doctor. My wife worked at the clinic, but she moved away. Daniella must be interviewing replacements. Did they tell you it’s informal? They love saying that. But nothing’s informal here. It’s all on the permanent record.”

“Gal, I don’t want you scaring her,” Daniella said. “Come back another time.”

“Am I scaring you, Linda?” Gal asked. Her cheerful voice turned scratchy with bravado. Though she was acting casual, she’d clearly summoned her last shreds of courage to walk into this room. She was shaking, her forehead damp with sweat.

“I don’t know?” Linda answered.

“Really, Gal,” Daniella started. “It’s not the time—”

“See? She doesn’t mind.” Gal grabbed Anouk’s half-filled water glass, topped it with wine, then sat back down and sipped the diluted pink result.

“Delicious!” Gal pronounced. She looked past glaring Anouk to Daniella. “To the chosen ones!”

“Gal,” Daniella warned, in a way that seemed to mean:Shut up and go away. But Linda had the feeling that unless physically forced, this woman wasn’t going anywhere.

Quietly, with glances and nods, Daniella, Rachel, and Anouk seemed to decide something. They chose not to make a scene. Instead, like this was a middle school cafeteria, they moved their chairs closer to Daniella, leaving Gal with extra space.

“What does everyone think about Principal Jackson?” Daniella asked, once they’d all settled. Her voice was intentionally soft, so that it would be hard to hear on Gal’s end.

Meanwhile, having gotten a seat at a table where she wasn’t wanted, Gal lost steam. She shot pleading looks at the rest of them, which went unrequited.

The waiter came with bruschetta and more wine. Linda slowly sipped, reminding herself to pace it out. Two glasses of mead was a lot for her, and this stuff definitely had more than the 2 percent alcohol of mead.

Just as Daniella was announcing that while she liked Principal Jackson, she was worried the woman lacked connections to the honors track at BetterWorld University, Anouk erupted. “I just, I cannot countenance this!” she cried with the over-the-top passion you might expect from Joan of Arc at the stake.

“Why don’t you take notes?” Daniella countered, calm and without missing a beat. “Sit by me so I can help edit. Linda, would you mind?”

“What?” Linda asked. The wine had made her slow.

“Switch places,” Rachel hissed. Then, in an even lower whisper: “Anouk’s tweaking!”

“Oh.” With more effort and dizziness than she’d have liked, Linda got up. Anouk lifted her butt, scooted into the next chair, then—carefully—Linda walked around her and sat.

“Thank you,” Anouk whispered. “Rudeness is very hard for me. I find it a kind of violence and I cannot abide it.”

Gal watched all this transpire. Said nothing, just got more maudlin. She hunched over her glass, clutching it close as a faithful pet. What the hell was this about?

“Perhaps if Jackson had more business background,” Daniella said.

Anouk jotted this, and seemed calm now that she had a pen in hand. “I saw her résumé. She’s been a principal in Palo Alto for ten years, but she’s originally from an outside town in Mississippi. Born in one of those flood towns. It’s a marvel she’s alive. Those kids are like fish in barrels. But I wonder if that kind of background doesn’t attest to grit?”

“It’s nothing against her,” Daniella said, and Anouk kept jotting. They’d forgotten that the subject of the new principal’s qualifications was invented and were taking it seriously. “I come from outside. But I’m not a principal. Does she know how to write recommendations?”

“Just because she’s an outsider doesn’t mean she can’t write,” Rachel said.

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