Obsessed with Submission

4

“Good morning! How may I- oh what’s wrong?” Debbie, the clerical assistant in the office, jumps in her chair at Ophelia’s disheveled appearance.

She pants against the desk, ignoring the student seated in the nearby chair. “I need…I need to…know who the red-haired woman is.” Her lungs burn. Wow, she really needs to work out because this is not fun.

“Red-haired?” Debbie taps her pen. “You mean Ms. Carter?”

She continues to pant heavily. “Does she have a glare that could cut through stone?”

Debbie laughs. “Yes, that would be Ms. Carter. She is the Honors English teacher.”

Ophelia straightens up from her bent-over position. “Can you tell me her room number? I need to get something from her.” With the room number and the mystery woman’s name, she sets off in the direction of the English department.

“Ms. Carter?” Ophelia tests the name out as she walks, sweat dripping down her back. She shrugs off her cardigan, fanning herself. “Even her name sounds mean like her.”

Classroom 107 looms like the gates of Mordor. She shudders, just imagining how this interaction is likely to go. She knocks and waits. A student answers and lets her inside the classroom. It’s white, everything is glaringly white. The walls, the lights, the board. It all looks so sterile for an English classroom. She expected posters of books or a reading nook somewhere. None of such things exist in the room.

Ms. Carter is at the front of the room teaching. When her eyes land on Ophelia, her face contorts angrily. “Class continue working.” The kids are like robots and immediately look down at their books. She storms up to Ophelia and grabs her by the arm. “What are you doing here?”

Ophelia gasps, walking along with the woman as she leads her right back outside. “Ms. Carter I came to ask for-” She stops, surprised. Ms. Carter has her hand up in a stop motion.

“Listen here, Ms. North.” Her eyes go wide, she knew her name? “We already established that I don’t want your apology, so please don’t come and interrupt my class time with your excuses.”

“Hold on just a minute.” Ophelia jerks her arms from the redhead's grasp. “First of all, could you let me finish my sentence?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “What happened in the teacher’s lounge was an accident and if you can’t see that then you’re the problem.”

“Me? I’m the problem?” Ms. Carter steps closer, grabbing her arm again. “You burst in like someone was chasing you, rammed into me, and then proceeded to stare like an idiot at the mess you made.”

She looks at the manicured hand clutching her elbow. “I said sorry.”

“As I said before, I don’t care about your apology.” She walks Ophelia backward until her back hits the wall. Even in heels, Ms. Carter is an inch or so taller than she is. “I care about you leaving my presence.”

Ophelia swallows mustering up the courage to speak. Her entire body is trembling at the woman's ire. Why was she so mad? “I need the chemistry worksheets back.”

Ms. Carter leans back with a frown. “I’m an English teacher, the science department is on the other side of the school.” She drops her hand and places them on her hips.

“I think they might be mixed in with your papers after they dropped on the floor.” She stares down at the floor unwilling to meet her eyes. The woman seriously scared her.

“What did you say? I couldn’t hear you, you aren’t looking at me.” Ms. Carter taps her foot. Ophelia notices she wears checkered Vans.

Face flushed red in embarrassment for being berated yet again, Ophelia raises her head. Ms. Carter’s blue eyes flick up and meet her gaze. “I think the chemistry worksheets I had are mixed in with the papers you took.” She stares off to the side of her shoulder, uncomfortable with the eye contact. Staring into Ms. Carter’s eyes was awkward and made her heart pound frantically in her chest.