A Terrible Beauty: What Teachers Know but Seldom Tell outside the Staff Room Read Online Free Page B

like what she’d been led to expect,
he had the fire in the belly, she could see that—anybody could.
    Halfway down the crowded hall she remembered what
he’d said before class. “I want to know what you expect for all
this cooperation.
    Because if you think I’m going to go easy on you—” At
the head of the busy stairway he turned abruptly to face her.
    She reached out to stop herself, and drew back a hand
from a chest taught as a horse’s flank, bringing it to her
throat.
    “Don’t misunderstand me.” He leaned close, face
hard.
    She could smell him, a man smell—good, clean,
familiar. Her father’s smell. The pulse throbbed on his bull neck,
and in that endless second she was ten years old, a girl wanting a
father’s approval.
    Blinking rapidly, she stepped back, fearing somehow
he might read her feelings. It was insane. It was her job to get
rid of him, destroy his career, his reputation. It was no time for
weakness, for daydreams, for romantic fantasy. What was happening
to her? He spoke slowly, voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m not
asking for any favors.” He stabbed a thick finger at her heart, and
she flinched from an impact that never came.
    “I know what you’re here to do—I don’t kid myself
about that.” Heart pounding, she stood her ground, holding his eyes
with hers. She could take it. If he was tough she was tougher.
“Then what is it you want? because you’ll get nothing from me.” He
nodded, his smile making her somehow ashamed.
    “I know it.” The woman was maddening. The worst of it
was that he was sure she knew what she did to him. Why else would
she stand so close? Maybe that was the way she worked—using that
face, that body to fluster the men she went after, making them
muddled, vulnerable.
    if he hadn’t known better he might have thought she
was embarrassed. Her cynicism sickened him. He knew it existed, but
to see it in front of him, in such a face, behind such eyes —
    Slowly, he turned and went down the stairs. “Forget
it. It was a stupid idea.” Hands moist on the cold railing, she
followed down the wide staircase. What had she seen in his eye?
Revulsion? Attraction? Hopelessness? She would have to watch
herself There was something here scared her. Something she couldn’t
understand, couldn’t control.
    if she was sure of anything, she was sure he was not
going to be one of the easy ones.
    Not even close.

    • • •
    For Celia, it was just another day.
    Sorting mail for the teacher’s boxes, phone cradled
at her neck, she made copies while pinching the nose of a sobbing
kindergartner, his face smeared scarlet with blood. Dark hair
trimmed short, standing barely five feet tall, Celia was a hundred
pounds of high strung competence. Though she never raised her voice
in anger, she ran the office with all the languor of a Marine drill
instructor—a DI with a cute figure and an elfin smile.
    Teachers respected Celia. Those that didn’t soon
learned their mistake. Some feared her, but most, like Solange
herself— couldn’t conceive of running the school without her.
    As O’Connel came through the door, Celia handed him a
message.
    “Mrs. Sandoval just called again. You can use Dean’s
office.” Solange caught her eye as she passed through the swinging
door at the counter. Celia knew why she was here and didn’t like
it.
    Why should she be different? Recoiling from the
frosty stare, Solange followed O’Connel inside, curious what to
expect.
    The vice principal’s office was a small, windowless
room not much bigger than a janitor’s storeroom. A small desk and
two chairs filled it. An old paddle, drilled with holes, hung on
the wall, thick with dust. Solange hated the look of it. If
inflicting pain was the only way you could reach kids, you’d lost
already.
    O’Connel shut the door and punched up the number,
putting the call over the speaker. Mrs. Sandoval spoke as if she
had just bitten into a lemon. “Yes, thank you for returning my
call.