Lauren Takes Leave Read Online Free Page A

around the
perimeter, like a general surveying his conquered territory after battle. I see
the disorganized space from her point of view and cringe inwardly. My classroom
is a safe haven for abandoned items that never make their way to the lost-and-found
box at the end of the hallway. Currently, I am providing shelter for a homeless
sweatshirt, soccer cleats, a football, and several textbooks from other
classes. There is a pile of newspapers in the right hand corner; glue sticks
and scissors are scattered on desks.
    “We’re just wrapping up our journalism unit,” I say, by
way of explanation. I pick up some loose feathers and tuck them into my pants
pockets. She wouldn’t understand.
    Martha turns and studies me, left eye twitching.
    “So…?” I begin, as a way of politely asking, What the
hell are you doing in here, when I could be having a cup of coffee with Kat and
chatting away my free period before heading off to the courthouse for the rest
of my awful day?
    “You don’t seem ill,” she states flatly.
    “That’s because I’m not,” I counter.
    “Then we have a serious problem here, Mrs. Worthing.”
    “Martha, call me Lauren, please.” I say this every time
we’ve spoken since she first arrived at our school five years ago. I think she
does it so that I’ll call her Mrs. Carrington.
    You see how well that’s working.
    She crosses the room to my desk and begins typing furiously
at the keypad of my computer, logging me out and logging herself in without
asking my permission. Then she actually sits down in my desk chair. I stand
awkwardly at her side, looking on. Her beady little rodent eyes meet mine. “My
records tell me that you have been absent from school nine times this year.”
    “Nine times?” I ask, with actual surprise. I thought it
was more like six.
    “Yes, Mrs. Worthing—Lauren— nine times .”
    Indeed, the blue screen staring back at me does reflect
that information. “Wow. I guess I really have been sick this year.” I
pull up a chair and sit across from my own desk.
    “I guess ,” Martha intones, trying to match my
vernacular. I feel like throwing in some “yo’s” and “whatev’s” just to hear her
repeat them back to me.
    The thought makes me stifle a chuckle, but it still
doesn’t explain why she’s visiting me in my classroom, or why she seems to be
upset with me. Again. Thinking back to our last meeting, I tuck my
clammy palms under my thighs to keep my hands from wanting to strangle her.
    “Yet this morning’s notes from my secretary show that you
have called for a substitute for later this morning.”
    “Oh!” I say, understanding now. “Did she not show up?” I
ask. “I need her here by nine thirty.”
    “The substitute is not the problem.” Here she stops, seems
to consider what to say, like plotting her next move in a game of Battleship. She
tilts her head and raises a finger to the side of her face, stroking a
grotesquely large mole just under her right ear. I try to stay focused on her eyes,
but she doesn’t make it easy. “The problem is…where are you going?” Her voice
deepens as she leans across my desk and enunciates clearly. “ Ten absences is your legal maximum as stated in the bylaws of the latest contract,
and today will be your tenth unexcused absence for the year. It is only
April, and I fear…” I let her go on for a while, thinking of the way her inner
computer wires are probably getting all crossed and creating sparks that are
shocking her ankles.
    I love to think of her spontaneously combusting.
    Only then do I speak. “But Martha, this is not an
unexcused absence.”
    There is momentary silence. “But why ever not, Mrs.
Worthing? Lauren.”
    I try not to smile. “Because I’ve been called for jury
duty!” It’s the first time I’ve been able to admit this with actual enthusiasm.
    “Oh!” Her tone changes immediately. The American flag in
the left corner of the classroom seems to wave at me. I imagine that