The Clichés

Chapter Ten

School has reverted to normal. Again, students have begun clogging the walkways, chatting on their phones, blowing kisses, and hugging and checking out the hottest girl in a group of friends. The headmaster has prohibited discussions or even references to Carol's case on campus. It's working fine. Vanessa, stepping out of Old Martha now, imagines how disappointed Carol would be now that her case was easily snapped shut. She'd hoped to retain attention for a long time, perhaps until the end of this academic year. She'd be utterly disappointed, but then, didn't she achieve her main goal: getting back at Lucas, soiling his already dangling reputation?

Vanessa shakes her head as though responding to herself. Carol can only laugh for a short time. She or anyone else on campus doesn't know what will hit today.

First, she goes to her locker to retrieve her books. She'd attend two compulsory classes first. She'd act normal, even though the instrument that would change Crownston forever is in her possession. If this goes out, not only will Carol be rusticated, but the principal and her council of investigators would be left in a very delicate situation. The educational governing council would definitely step into the matter. Crownston would be on the news for something bad.

Why hadn't she thought of that? The implications of what she was about to do? Why hadn't she thought of the people involved, powerful institutions like the staff and students representative body? Wouldn't the headmaster destroy evidence or veto it? Does she need to speak to a lawyer or something? Her dad has connections. He speaks to lawyers and activists and writes political satirical columns every Wednesday. Does she need to involve him?

Someone nudges her from behind. She turns, and the class explodes in laughter. The teacher, Professor Amber, has been repeatedly asking her a question as it seems. Now, Vanessa can see anger, red as ripe fruit, crawl up her cheeks.

"Something bothering you?" Prof Amber asks, strolling towards her.

"Dylan is her friend," someone chips in. "And Dylan is Lucas' friend."

"You could be suspended for that, Jamie," Prof Amber says. Turning back to Vanessa, she says, "Do you want to talk about it? Alone with me?"

"Nonsense! What problems has talking ever solved? Yes, I'll talk to you about it. But what will you do afterward? Aren't you just a teacher? Are you a therapist or something—"

"Vanessa!"

"Professor Amber, please! We all know the truth. Nothing matters here. You were at the closed-door meeting—"

"Oh, is this what your fury is all about?"

"What else? Who cares if you're not well paid or your boyfriend just left a note and the keys?"

"Okay, that's it! Go to the headmaster's office now!"

"Exactly where I'm going now. However, when the heat comes, I'll tell her you sent me there, 'cause I'm going there to spit real fire and brimstone!"

Vanessa storms out of the class, leaving Prof Amber transfixed, leaving the class in quiet disarray. She stops for a brief moment in the hallway while students swim past her. She looks at them with a concerned expression, how they'd snapped back to normalcy in a matter of days. In a few minutes, their organized school lives will be rippled again, and this laughter, these back tapings, this constant need to indulge in cheap, trivial talk, would die down.

*

Her name is Dr. Claire Ronson, but everyone at Crownston just calls her the headmaster. Not that she minds anyway. She's black and likes to describe herself as descendants of black plantation workers and later disenfranchised peasants living in Southside, Chicago. She wears her hair cropped, tiny ends touching her earlobes. The most dazzling thing about her is her easy smiles, an immaculate set of teeth bursting out like flower blooms in the middle of chocolate-brown skin.