Lie, Lie Again(94)
Her hands shook with nerves, and her wound suddenly burned. She licked her lips. “I’m so sorry for what happened, Mr. and Mrs. Johanson. All the prizes in that box were left for me by the previous teacher.” She didn’t mention Mrs. Fitzsimmons by name, showing that she wasn’t trying to place the blame on someone else. That should score her some points. “I absolutely should’ve checked them in the same way I preview videos or books I share with the students. Nothing like this will happen again.” She exhaled quietly, hoping she would be free to go soon.
Mrs. Trainor spoke next. “Isn’t that what you said after the leprechaun-trap fiasco? That nothing like that would happen again? And now we have a more egregious situation. How do you justify that?” Her eyes were slits, and Riki felt like she was being pinned to the chair under the harsh gaze.
“The leprechaun traps were meant to be a fun way to end our unit on folklore and fairy tales. But that was overlooked when you accused me of wanting to perpetuate lies. I wasn’t. And as for the prize box, it was one hundred percent my fault. I trusted what was there, and I shouldn’t have. But the bottom line is, I adore my students. They are all flourishing in my class. I care about each and every one of them.”
No one spoke for a moment, and she felt she would choke on the silence.
Finally, Ms. Hammacher chimed in. “Miss McFarlan, I understand you care for your students. That is evident. However, your lack of judgment is a problem. I believe we’re all sitting here wondering what’s next from you, and we simply can’t have that.” She placed her hands firmly on the desk. “I have a sub in place for you today. I’ll review everything, taking into account your responses from our meeting, and I’ll let you know by the end of the day what my final decision will be as to whether you will remain on staff here.”
Mr. and Mrs. Johanson exchanged pensive looks.
Mrs. Trainor smirked. “I want her gone. That’s my vote.”
Mr. Johanson nodded in agreement.
Images of the emails, the cattiness, and the many disapproving glares flashed through Riki’s mind, creating a storm of anger. She stood abruptly. “That’s your vote? You want me gone, so I’m gone? I’ll save you the trouble.” Flapping her hands to her sides, she snapped, “I quit. And you know what? I feel sorry for your kids. They’re going to have a tough time in life if they’re expected to be perfect all the time.”
The parents exchanged knowing glances, as though she’d just proven how unfit she was. Riki half expected Mr. Johanson to heartily shake hands with everyone in the room. Well done, people. Well done, he’d say. It was pathetic.
Ms. Hammacher rose from her seat. “In that case, I’ll expect your written resignation.” She turned to the parents. “I believe we’re finished here. Thank you for your time.”
“Good luck in finding a teacher who they’ll approve of,” she said, flicking a hand at the group of sour-faced parents. “Oh, wait! You can hire a robot. That’ll solve everything.” With that, she stalked out the door. No running on campus, she thought to herself as she jogged across the quad, but what could they do, fire her? She giggled. It was all she could do to stop herself from shouting, I’m free!
Sylvia arrived at the office early on Monday morning. As she fired up her computer, a pale-blue envelope caught her eye. It was propped against the monitor, her name written in small, slanted letters across the back. A man’s writing, she thought. It had to be from Sal. No other man at the company had reason to leave a note. Although it could be a female’s printing, but her boss wasn’t one to leave notes. And what other female . . . ? Well, it could be from Dowdy Sarah.
As she contemplated the note, her cell phone rang. She checked the number. Jonathan. She closed her eyes and took a breath, forcing a smile as she answered. “Hi, Jonathan. Good morning.”
“Yeah, I wanted to let you know I’ve got a guy with deep pockets, a Mr. Frank Overland, who’s really interested in the place. Things are moving quickly. I told you I’d keep you informed, and I keep my word.”
What the hell? Ann Travis was supposed to be the big player, not some other guy. She quickly wrote the name down on a sheet of paper. “You’re a good man. Thanks for letting me know. Has he made an offer?”
“Not officially. He’s coming by tonight at six thirty to check the place out.”
“Well, as much as I don’t want to move, business is business.”
“Yup. That it is. Bye now.”
She ended the call and began making a list. Suddenly, her day had become very busy. She grabbed the blue envelope and ripped it open. A smiling coffee mug with heart-shaped eyes was pictured on front. Inside, it read, Can I take you to lunch tomorrow? Please respond via text, email, phone, or carrier pigeon. Warmly, Sal
Carrier pigeon. Clever. She turned to her computer and typed carrier pigeon into the search bar. One of the first images was of the bird holding a note in its beak. She printed it and proceeded to cut it out. On the small note in its beak, she wrote, Lunch tomorrow sounds great in tiny print. She placed the pigeon in an interoffice envelope and placed it in the pickup box. He’d have her answer within an hour. Maybe less.
That done, she typed a name into her phone. Frank Overland. Results appeared immediately. Good Lord. The man could buy ten apartment complexes without noticing a dip in his bank account. At least, according to Wikipedia. His stated net worth gave her chills. That made him a real threat. She sent a text to both Embry and Riki.