Page 25 of The Headmistress

Sam excused herself under the guise of wanting to check up on something and took the long way around campus to gather her roving thoughts. She walked by the construction site that marked the restoration of the dilapidated chapel which had fallen into ruins in the past twenty or so years, since the last chaplain passed away and the school—under Orla’s stewardship—had veered towards more of a secular approach to the education provided at Dragons.

With her mind spinning with jealousy and resentment, especially after Magdalene had caressed her mouth and made Sam long all over again for things that surely could never be, she welcomed the distraction the restoration was bringing to her agitated mind.

It pained Sam that, out of all the projects to be considered, with dorms and study halls needing repairs, Magdalene had chosen to renovate the chapel.

Sam had no real opinion about a supreme being, and, being sort of agnostic, she did not judge people for their beliefs. Moreover, she knew of many lesbians who carried faith deep in their hearts despite various religions’ long and difficult history of rejecting the LGBTQIA community. Faith was a subject that she considered deeply individual and even private. Still, she felt it had no place here and shouldn’t be forced on an entire student body that was not religiously monolithic to begin with.

Steps behind her alerted her she was no longer alone with her thoughts.

“You look disgruntled, Professor Threadneedle.” Oh, yeah, she knew that voice without needing to turn around.

“You could say that, Headmistress.”

“Concerned about the state of construction? I have been assured repeatedly that they will be finished before the school year begins.” Magdalene finally emerged from the shadows next to her and stepped up to the fence surrounding the construction site, her fingers idly tracing the chain links.

For a second, all of Sam’s disappointment dissipated, mesmerized by the movement and grace of that hand. Memories of those fingertips moving over her own skin made her shiver before she shook them off, anger roaring back inside her at her own inability to escape this woman’s influence. She was a threat to so much of what Sam held dear, and yet here she stood, hypnotized by Magdalene’s hands and by her sheer presence. What a useless fool she was. So weak, so susceptible…

“I am concerned that, after repeatedly decrying the state of the school’s finances, uncovering the dire straits pretty much every single facility on the grounds is in, you chose to prioritize this restoration project.”

“Ah, I see.” Maddeningly, Magdalene did not follow up on what Sam thought was a totally inane statement.

“What is it exactly that you see, Headmistress? The school is mostly Protestant, somewhat Catholic, and has a very small percentage of Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist and atheist girls. And yet you are restoring a chapel that would not be accepting of all of them?”

“And it’s the chapel that is the problem in this equation, Professor Threadneedle?”

Stunned, Sam shook her head, in vain trying to clear the fog of anger and lust that had seemed to descend upon her and to better understand the question.

“My point was that you have an issue with me restoring a chapel, but you seem to have no problem whatsoever with the fact that the school is 95 percent Christian and overwhelmingly white. I am confused by your priorities.”

As arguments went, Sam thought she’d been played by a master. Yes, the school was white, almost entirely so. Sam had no role in the admissions process, but she knew that the majority of the students were from rich and affluent Massachusetts families, and only the measly number of scholarship students were more diverse in their make-up.

She bit her lip, trying to find some counterargument, as Magdalene simply looked at her, those magical eyes bright in the morning sun.

Finally, when the silence had stretched for an uncomfortable period of time, Magdalene smiled, not unkindly.

“You are a formidable individual, Professor Threadneedle. Misguided to the point of bullish stubbornness, misinformed to the point of willful ignorance, yet so staunch in your convictions. Your loyalty to these people and these stones is absolute. It’s rather endearing, despite being utterly ridiculous and absolutely undeserved.”

“I think you gave me about three different insults couched under the guise of one compliment there, Headmistress.”

“Ah, stubborn and misguided you may be, but I didn’t say you were not astute.”

Despite herself, Sam chuckled, and Magdalene joined her after a second where she seemed to simply stand in the sun basking in having made Sam laugh. Obviously, Sam was deluding herself, but she liked to think that Magdalene had wanted to bring her this moment of joy. Or to simply be with her, since she seemed to unerringly find her in the most obscure places so often these days.

And what was even more deluded, Sam thought as they walked back to the school next to each other, was that the natural loner Sam Threadneedle did not seem to mind any and all intrusion these days, as long as they came from this one woman, who was a total puzzle and continuous source of irritation, anger, and sheer unadulterated lust.

They were met by George at the stairs to the main foyer, who gave them a curious look, then launched into the multitude of tasks awaiting the Headmistress in the office. Chief among them seemed to be the continuous appeasement of the Board and the Old Dragonettes who were staging a veritable insurrection against the reform of the Houses. Rumors and news had a tendency to spread like wildfire on social media among the school alumni. Sam stifled a smile. Infatuated as she might be, some things—as antiquated as they were—she held near and dear to her heart, and she relished this particular battle.

“And you Miss Cutie Pie,” George continued, “are being searched for high and low by one handsome and obviously enamored Mr. David Uttley. Our History Chair is back from his short mainland sojourn and has been beseeching me for your whereabouts. He’s awfully handsome, that one, wouldn’t you say? And so obviously sweet on you.”

The sparkle in Magdalene’s eyes dimmed a little and Sam wanted to cheerfully throttle George. No, she did not believe David was looking for her, nor did she want to hear about his crush on her, which Sam didn’t even think was a crush, to begin with. It was some form of punishment for her and David, that with both of them being single and younger than most of the faculty, everyone and their mother was on some sort of mission to get them together. It seemed that George had gotten on the same bandwagon as Orla. And of all the times to bring up David, just as she and Magdalene had shared a wonderful moment…

A moment which was obviously over, with the Headmistress striding away quickly, without as much as a by-your-leave, and George barely keeping up behind her. Sam’s first impulse was to go after them, only to see that they were almost immediately joined by Timothy and proceeded to walk together to whatever conference call surely awaited them. Sam sighed and for the umpteenth time wondered what the hell she had gotten herself into.

* * *

She checked up on Lily shortly after, finding her in bed reading. Next to her was a pair of brand new crutches.

“The Headmistress, Hotty McHot, brought them earlier. I think she intercepted that creepy doctor on her way here. And she was looking for you, since you apparently left breakfast to come check on me? Busted, teach, so busted.”

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