Page 14 of The Headmistress

So when she’d been officially informed of her re-hiring and signed the new contract, she hadn’t expected it to be an experience akin to putting on a bulletproof vest, but she certainly felt that way. Bulletproof. Protected. After a couple of tough days, the anxiety subsided. Which made her even angrier. The trustees, and Magdalene too, of all people, were set to destroy a safe space. A space where people like her, like Amanda, like Lily, like Suzie—whether silent and closeted or loud and proud—had found a home, a refuge from the world that was, by and large, still unkind if not downright cruel to people like them.

On the other hand, Magdalene’s proximity, which had been so easy in the darkness of the bar, was throwing Sam off her game, making her feel discombobulated and in a state of constant awareness that had none of the fateful night’s ease.

The Headmistress had indicated that Sam’s interview itself was only pro forma, and all things considered, it went smoothly and quickly. But even with the ink dry on the contract, Sam still felt like she had gone ten rounds with the heavyweight champion in the ring.

For that was what Magdalene seemed like. After years of working with Orla in a friendly, relaxed, and dare she say less-than-professional atmosphere, filled with cupcakes and muffins and parties, Sam felt completely run over by the efficient and utterly effective machine that was Magdalene Nox. No nonsense, on time, and highly organized, in those four-inch heels and that tightly tailored skirt suit, she was the epitome of attractive, deadly professionalism.

The outfits did decidedly marvelous, if slightly dirty, things to Sam’s psyche. They were distracting; they were maddening; they were wonderful. The way the downright respectable, knee-length skirt would hug those hips and ride up just an inch when Magdalene sat down… Sam drank a lot more water than usual these days, as her throat was perpetually parched. She knew she was being the utter embodiment of a lovesick puppy, lusting after her very professional and aloof boss, but she had no idea how to stop it.

It also became clear very soon that Sam wasn’t the only one with a less-than-well-hidden admiration for their new Headmistress. Timothy Nox and Joel Tullinger had both stayed behind under the pretense of helping her organize the school’s affairs and setting her up for success. Sam felt that Magdalene herself resented the intrusion. She was more than capable of conducting the interviews and the audit of the files and books by herself, and yet she was forced to contend with the presence of two people who were entirely overbearing and—especially in Joel’s case—downright condescending.

Still, Magdalene did not allow either Timothy or Joel to steal her show. She ruled with a steady hand, and after having aced her own interview and being officially made a member of the transition committee—along with the two trustees and George—Sam had the unique opportunity to observe how, despite keeping her cards very close to her chest, the Headmistress was making the job all her own.

Joel had tried to insert himself repeatedly in either the interviews or the oversight of the audit, but had been gently yet firmly put in his place. Timothy’s role was less clear to Sam, as the man was mostly absent from the actual duties he was supposed to be performing, either on the phone or hiding away in the quarters assigned to him in the dormitories. One time he even brought a book to the office. David, whose interview he was crashing in such a manner, had goggled at the sheer audacity. So, to say that Timothy didn’t appear to be at all interested in the school’s affairs was an understatement. His level of interest in Magdalene, however, was another story altogether. He was effusive in his attentions and his compliments and his not-so-subtle touches. Which grated on Sam so much, she couldn’t find it in herself to even attempt to reason the anger away.

But while Timothy’s commitment to the school’s causes was clearly faked or tenuous at best, Sam could not find fault with his intelligence or ingenuity. Even being thoroughly distracted by his phone, or his book, or his ex-wife, as well as a myriad of other things, Timothy Nox was brilliant when called upon. His knowledge of accounting and finances shone brightly when the school’s dire straits in terms of funding were fully exposed. He was helpful, he was insightful and he had very good ideas.

And he did all these things while looking like an expensive fashion model, fresh off the runway. His clothes immaculate, his watch opulent and cufflinks always on point, Sam felt downright drab in comparison, and if not for an unexpected ally, she’d have perhaps had a more difficult time dealing with this veritable prince among men.

Since George had started at Dragons, she and Sam had become if not exactly close, then definitely situationally friendly. Not only were they the only ones on the transition committee not dressed in thousand-dollar outfits, but she and the secretary seemed to share a decidedly irreverent attitude towards both Joel and Timothy and had developed a way of discretely rolling their eyes towards each other when either of the men fawned over Magdalene too overtly.

And Timothy did fawn. In fact, he was pretty brazen about it. And while his excessive platitudes were unpleasant, it was his flirting that drove Sam to distraction.

George joked about how Timothy could use a bib to save all those crisp, starched Hugo Boss shirts from all the drooling he did over Magdalene, but Sam did not find those jokes even remotely funny. In fact, the secretary’s cracks about Timothy had just enough bite to veer into disrespectful, if not downright ‘I hate this man’s guts’ territory. After all, George seemed like a very loyal friend to the Headmistress and was clearly on her side when it came to her ex-husband.

Moreover, Sam suspected that Magdalene herself wasn’t having much fun either. She bore the effusive attention and overt displays of affection with dignity, but Sam could tell by that barely-there twitch of her nose and the narrowing of her expressive eyes, that she was not pleased with either the presence of her ex-husband on the grounds or with his demonstrative overtures.

Sam was also beginning to understand that trying to read Magdalene was every bit as difficult as she thought it would be. For all of Sam’s literary knowledge, she still couldn’t find an apt metaphor for her. A closed book she was not, because she wasn’t entirely standoffish or abrupt, always available to a colleague or a student. So the book was rather open, but the pages were entirely blank, and at no time could Sam tell what she was really thinking—despite the occasional cute nose twitch.

Cute? Her exhausting run over, Sam raised the midriff of her hoodie to wipe the sweat from her face, shook her head at herself, and sat down on a patch of grass on the Amber Dragon Cliff, her usual nightly place to unwind and simply get away from the world.

But as she made herself comfortable, she discovered she wasn’t alone in her hiding place. A few feet away, closer to the edge, a familiar figure stood in the shadows, under the pine trees. Her posture ramrod straight, Magdalene looked like the brooding hero of a gothic romance, in a black dress, her shoulders covered by a light flowing shawl, protecting her from the evening breeze. Her face was shadowed, but Sam sensed that, despite the tense set of her arms around her body, her features were peaceful.

She could understand that. Dragon Cliffs accomplished what no other place on Earth could. They brought solace and ease to Sam, no matter how dire the circumstances were. They’d certainly calmed and eased the mind of a rebellious and misfit teenager for years. They had been home when no other home existed.

In her musings, she must’ve made a sound, for Magdalene turned suddenly, her gaze sharp and defensive, before relaxing a bit at the sight of Sam, who felt an entire herd of butterflies in her stomach at such an overt display of acceptance. After a full week of not being able to tell where she stood with her, it was akin to a kiss to realize that, despite everything that had happened between them, Magdalene was in fact comfortable around her.

“You’ve found my little hidey-hole, Professor Threadneedle.”

It was still a bit of a rush how seamlessly Magdalene had gone from calling her Ms. Threadneedle to Professor, always underscoring her now fully affirmed position at the school. It also set a heavy boundary between them, for the Headmistress had never called Sam by her first name. But the title also allayed all of Sam’s lingering fears and doubts about who she was and how secure her position was. She wondered if Magdalene was intuitive enough to have sensed Sam’s worry earlier, when she'd felt like she may no longer be safe at Dragons. She wouldn’t put it past this woman who, while still an enigma, seemed to have everyone else figured out.

She hadn’t asked Sam anything and they had not exchanged a word beyond their school duties, but for some reason—be it the mutual assured destruction principle, or just foolhardy faith—Sam felt that Magdalene would not out her. Also, the knowledge that Sam was privy to something exceedingly personal to the enigmatic woman, something that nobody else seemed to have any inkling about—such as Magdalene’s own sexuality—was reassuring to Sam. She’d never use it against the Headmistress, but it felt like having this shared secret was akin to holding a small fragile bird to one’s chest. One needed to be gentle and oh-so-careful with it, but it was wondrous and beautiful and worth all the trouble in the world.

Sam’s breath caught in her throat as Magdalene stepped even closer to the jagged edge of the cliff and then, just as abruptly, turned her back to the foaming ocean beneath.

“Ah, I think we might’ve found each other’s hidey-holes? I try to come here whenever I can. And would you mind not standing so close to the edge? Dragons are ruthless, and Amber more so than the other two.”

“Is that why you choose to spend your evenings on this particular cliff? Because she’s more dangerous than the rest? I think I’m beginning to understand you’re secretly an adrenaline junkie.” The small smile playing on Magdalene’s lips warmed Sam to the core.

“Yep, adrenaline junkie - that’s me. Bungee jumping and paragliding and skydiving. All those things. Ask anyone.” Sam hid her own sarcastic smile behind the neckline of her hoodie.

“Ihaveasked, and I don’t believe anyone described you even remotely in those terms. Dependable, steady, responsible. Those were more along the lines of what others say about you, Professor Threadneedle. Could it be that, with one exception, you have done nothing reckless in your entire life?”

Sam blushed furiously and hid her whole face in the generous folds of her three-sizes-too-big top. She was almost certain that Magdalene was alluding to their one-night stand, yet she was so embarrassed that her peers had chosen such boring and downright dowdy descriptors for her, that she wanted the cliff to swallow her whole. She was desperate to impress this woman, and the people around her seemed determined to make her look like a country bumpkin.

And the way Magdalene’s voice had lowered at ‘one exception’, made Sam’s heart speed up. The things she could do to Sam with just her tone alone were downright unfair.

“You spoke to our colleagues about me?”

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