Page 13 of The Headmistress

“Still randy that one. Timothy Nox. He’s aged well. Though Magdalene looks better, in spite of them being the same age. Not sure if it’s the red hair or her natural beauty, but in comparison, he looks much older and somewhat too made up. Like the plastic surgery, while well done, wasn’t entirely necessary. Call me sexist, but I don’t understand why he needed it.”

Sam wanted to say that she didn’t care and to turn away from Joanne, but she knew her guardian had a keen eye for faces, being a skilled photographer. If anyone, Joanne would see things that Sam would not be able to. Plus, she clearly had a ton of gossip about the couple. Sam made a mental note to question her more. On second thought, she wondered why she cared so much. George had already revealed that Magdalene was divorced. Her personal status did not matter and should not matter to Sam. Magdalene had made it crystal clear during their time together that it was a one-night stand.

But something in Sam kept tugging her attention back to the couple sitting close to each other on the stage, with one of them staring dispassionately ahead at the faculty assembled, and the other caring not a jot about anyone else in the room but the person next to him.

Finally, when it seemed everyone who was still at the school had assembled, Joel Tullinger rose from his place and approached the podium, looking pointedly at the crowd in front of him. Sam thought his father used to do this much better. Authority sat awkwardly on Joel’s shoulders. Like he desperately wanted it, but the fit chafed.

“Esteemed faculty and students of Three Dragons Academy. We have gathered here to celebrate the end of another school year. I do not say that it was a successful one.” At his words, Orla bristled visibly, and Sam could see Alden lay a quelling hand on her shoulder.

Throwing the former headmistress a pointed look, Joel went on.

“It is not a secret to the trustees that the school has been underperforming for years. Moreover, some practices enshrined by our forefathers in the Academy’s charter have fallen by the wayside. The proud principles this school has embodied for centuries are being swept aside in order to provewokenessand relevancy, and to pursue newfangled trends and a liberal agenda.”

The faculty and the scholarship students, who had nowhere else to go and hence would be boarding at the school for the summer, collectively held their breaths. Joel might as well have added ‘homosexual agenda’, the way he spat out the syntagm. Sam could see clearly where he was headed with his little speech.

“We will not allow this illustrious institution to fall prey to the things this entire country is struggling to temper.” He took a long swig from the glass on the podium, as if his speech had made him severely dehydrated, and surveyed those in front of him with the air of a tyrant commanding his people.

“With all that being said, the trustees felt it was time to make a belated change. We don’t yet know if the school is still within anyone’s power to save, its finances being what they are and the endowment depleted. But if anyone can steady this ship before we assess the sustainability of the Academy and its ability to continue to function past next summer, it’s the new Headmistress - Ms. Magdalene Nox. We have full faith that Headmistress Nox will put a stop to the foolishness that has been allowed to flourish at Three Dragons, to the malicious and insidious emblems that have been corrupting the student body, and to the potentially harmful curricula tendencies. She has succeeded at many other schools in New England, cutting the fat, streamlining the educational process and returning the institutions to all their former glory. I give you your new Headmistress.” He turned to where Magdalene was sitting and demonstratively started to clap.

If he or Magdalene expected people to follow him in his applause, they were mistaken. Unlike Timothy Nox and the trustees, the faculty and students did not move. Sam thought that, after what they had just heard, they might as well all stand up and leave. Three Dragons had largely been a secular school for over three decades, and even before that—despite a charter that dated back two centuries, to a very religiously influenced beginning—the school had always been moving away from morning and evening prayers as well as other kinds of religious practices. If Magdalene Nox was being brought in to re-instill practices from the 19th century, she was about to fail. Sam would see to it. And what kind of gall did someone have, to suddenly oppose the alluded-tohomosexual agendaafter doing decidedly homosexual things to Sam in New York?

Sam fumed, the muscles of her jaw working, and looked defiantly at the woman who stood in front of the crowd, whose eyes betrayed absolutely nothing. If this was a moment of triumph, her pale countenance showed no elation. She simply surveyed those before her and nodded.

Joel looked at the Headmistress in puzzlement, perhaps waiting for her to say something, to pontificate as he had done, but when nothing was forthcoming, he took his seat too.

The silence that loomed over the Aula Magna was ominous, and Sam felt a shiver run down her spine. Joanne’s trembling hand was in hers and the grip was like iron. Several seats away from her she could see Lily holding Amanda’s hand, her eyes defiant. In fact, the girls were showing remarkable resoluteness in the face of adversity, unlike the adults in the room. They were certainly showing more bravery than Sam, whose thoughts were consumed with fear. Could she stand up for the students without revealing who she was? With Joel clearly pushing for a return to the roots, would she even have a place at Dragons if her being a lesbian were revealed? Sam closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Selfishness had never been a characteristic of hers. She hoped when push came to shove, the Fourth Dragon would find her courage.

Orla’s cheeks were wet. Sam gritted her teeth again and ruefully shook her head. Now was not the time to cry over things that they could no longer change. Now was not the time to show weakness and despair. Orla was their leader. She should at least try to act like it, instead of succumbing to tears. So she had lost her position as headmistress, but she was still one of the faculty, previously holding the English Chair. She could still try to interview and fight for the school.

Sam’s disappointment at the situation and at Orla displaying such obvious weakness must have shown on her face, because when she turned her head, her eyes ran dead straight into the dark, unwavering stare of the new Headmistress. She felt a charge of electricity run between them, but she refused to lower her gaze. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the eyes crinkled slightly at the corners and the lush lips twitched with something Sam thought was approval.

6

Of Legal Protections & Tailored Suit Skirts

Sam lived and breathed words. She’d read extensively—some would say excessively, if that was even a thing—her whole life, and despite being a math teacher, believed that words held inherently more power than anything else in the universe, including numbers, or looks, or scents… So how was it that, without a single word, the woman across from her at the bar had captivated her beyond reason?

Not a total stranger to women—she did have that one girlfriend in post-grad, dammit—and not exactly sheltered after a life in an all-girls school and then in one of the best colleges in New England, Sam did not consider herself either a hermit or a nun, yet here she was, mouth dry, hands clammy, tongue-tied without a single word being uttered.

Was it the graceful line of neck, exposed by the generously unbuttoned blouse? Sam wondered if the woman had unbuttoned it before stepping into the bar as a signal of her intentions, or was it simply the end of a long workday and it was a concession to tiredness? Either way, the line drew Sam’s eyes with a steady, undeterrable magnetic force. In her mind’s eye, Sam saw her own fingertip trace it from below the ear to where the cotton of the shirt obscured its transcendence to the shoulder. Would the woman blush? Would goosebumps chase Sam’s finger? Would the skin be warm already? Or would it heat at her touch? So many questions. Sam’s scientist mind was spinning already. Or was it simply this woman, who hadn’t said anything, yet had captivated Sam more than any other in a very long time?

Silences weren’t a thing Sam found attractive. They were usually heavy and charged, and yet the fact that this woman hadn’t needed to utter a word to make the rest of the bar simply fade away, was a new and fascinating experience. Her looking at Sam with a curious and at the same time knowing gaze had Sam shivering in the warmth of the room. Maybe Sam was a new convert to the miracle of silence, because for the first time in her life she had no desire to fill it with anything. Silence was enough, and under the twinkling of the wondrous eyes, Sam felt enough herself.

* * *

The next week proved to be taxing beyond anything Sam had ever endured at work, and she wished for some of that silence, if only to catch her breath and to steady herself.She needed to clear her mind, and so she did the one of the things that still brought her clarity - she went for a run.

Mentally, she was doubly exhausted. On one hand, Joel’s pronouncements had hit just a little close to home for Sam. Despite Magdalene’s assurances, and in spite of her own set of quite impressive accomplishments for her age and her humble beginnings, Sam had never been more aware of being gay in a workplace than right now. Her closet had been rather firmly shut for years, with Joanne the only person aware of its existence, but with Magdalene on the island and having both hands-on experience and first-hand knowledge—she cracked herself up with those idiotic puns at times—about who Sam was, the safe, if not always comfortable closet, was less and less secure.

Sure, the Supreme Court’s decision a year prior stated that an employer that discriminates against someone simply because they are gay or transgender breaks the law, and she felt safe in her position, but Sam’s heart was still heavy. It was a unique experience for her.

During Orla’s tenure, Sam had felt comfortable enough. In fact, she often thought that coming out would have probably been a good idea, since she felt so secure. But for a myriad of reasons she never had. She tried once, at their evening brainstorming teas at Orla’s, but every time she’d open her mouth, the words would not come out. The pun and the irony.

So she never did open up her closet to Orla or to anyone else on the island bar Joanne, but if she was completely honest with herself, the reason for that was her refusal to be othered. Because no matter where she went, she had always been seen as different. First, as the only orphan attending Dragons, then as—to her knowledge—the only teen at school who did not dream of boys. If there were other gay students—and statistically there should have been—Sam never knew of them, and Dragons, led by Reverend Sanderson and his fire-and-brimstone speeches against all things sinful, did not encourage the queer girls to come out.

Years went by, and it wasn’t like her prospects of finding anyone on an island as small and as conservative as Dragons were actually real, and so Sam had kept her secret. Until now.

To be suddenly thrown into so much uncertainty by the man she had a rather bloody history with, made her angry and grated beyond belief. Joel’s intention to return the school back to the 19th century was frightening.

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