Chapter Three of Changeling

[the_siobhan]

I found the school without any trouble. It was a three-story red brick building that looked turn of the century. The last century of course, I thought. I noticed thin wrought-iron bars on all the windows.

Inside the walls and stairs were all painted grey. Grey metal lockers lined the hallways. There were no signs other than room numbers on the doors. I had to ask somebody the way to the principal's office.

The office turned out to be a brightly lit room with a wooden counter that separated the students from the office staff. The white walls had a calendar and a clock and nothing else on them. I went to the counter and politely waited my turn. I felt like I was in a post office.

Finally a harried looking woman with sandy hair asked if she could help me. I gave her the most charming smile I could muster. My stomach felt like it was full of grasshoppers.

"I hope so. See I was off sick for a couple of days and uh, now I can't remember anything. So I don't know what class I'm supposed to be in or who my teachers are. I was hoping you could help me figure the stuff out."

She stared at me. I waited, still polite, still smiling.

"If you need help," she said finally, "you should go to your teachers first."

My heart sank. I could see the presence of an autopilot operating in very close proximity.

"I'd love to do that," I assured her. "But like I said, I have no idea who they are. Maybe I have a file or something back there that you could look up?"

She pursed her lips at me. Something about me and my request was pissing her off. Maybe she thought I was playing some kind of prank on her. I fantasized about grabbing the phone off the desk and filming her with some secret camera in the receiver. To play in late-night movie houses, I guess. "You are supposed to keep your schedule," she told me. "Don't you still have your schedule? In your books or in your locker or somewhere?"

"Of course. I have a locker! I never thought of that! Thank you so much!" I smiled even more broadly at her. I opened my eyes wider and leaned forward, sincerity dripping from every pore.

"Now how do I find out where my locker is?"

Her eyes narrowed. She played her ace. "Why don't you ask your friends?"

"My friends! They would know! Of course! You're a genius!" We were practically nose-to-nose now, bent across the counter towards each other. I could see the tiny beads of sweat on her upper lip.

I lowered my voice to deliver my counter-strike, "Can you tell me who they are?"

She straightened up. "I think you should run along and go to class and stop wasting my time." She turned her back.

I raised my voice. Everyone in the office turned to look at me.

"I GUESS I'LL JUST HAVE TO GO HOME THEN. I'LL TELL MY PARENTS THAT I CAME TO SCHOOL BUT THAT NONE OF YOU WERE WILLING TO HELP ME SO I HAD TO GO HOME."

My nemesis turned back, throwing me a look of pure poison. She opened her mouth to say something, but she was interrupted by one of the other women behind the counter. A small older woman with tightly cropped grey hair approached us. "Is there some kind of problem?" she asked.

She was obviously somebody with more pull in the office as the sandy-haired pain in my ass immediately backed off and went to do something else. She listened to me as I explained my problem. Made eye contact and everything. She wore glasses with tilted corners and a chain that held them around her neck. I thought vintage and then immediately wondered what the hell I was on about.

"Do you have a note from your parents?" she asked me. I fumbled the piece of paper out of my pocket and gave it to her. She adjusted her glasses to bridge of her nose and read it.

"Hmm. Doesn't say much." She looked up at me again. "Have you been to the nurse?"

"Uh. No. To be honest I never even thought of it. Do you think I should?"

She gave me a crooked grin. The corners of her eyes crinkled when she smiled. "Couldn't hurt," she said. I fell a tiny bit in love.

She gave me directions to the nurse's office. I walked through hallways packed full of students gossiping and giggling and getting ready for class. I eyed them cautiously, waiting for any signs of recognition but nobody paid any attention to me.

The nurse's office consisted of a tiny waiting area big enough for three chairs that opened into two rooms with low narrow beds. A plump boy sat on the pallet in one of the rooms, crying with loud throaty sobs. The nurse turned out to be a petite woman who looked barely older than the students she was taking care of. She waved me into the other room and closed the door. I could still hear the sobbing as I closed the door behind me and sat down on the bed.

I sat and stared at eye charts and posters that advised me that smoking kills. Eventually the sobbing quieted. After what seemed like forever the door opened and the nurse came in.

She listened to my story. Took my blood pressure. Took my temperature. Shone a light in my eyes. And asked me questions through the entire process about what I remembered and what I didn't. I kept wondering if she believed me; she didn't react to anything I told her. Even when I stumbled over getting my name right. Eventually she wrote a note and told me to take it back to the office.

I read the note of course, once I was safely out in the hallway. It recommended that my parents take me to a neurologist.

My angel in vintage glasses had looked up my locker, my combination number, my teachers and my class schedule by the time I got to the office. She escorted me to my locker so I could retrieve my books. I opened it with some trepidation; expecting porn or anarchist literature or something to fall into my waiting hands, but my locker turned out to be as completely sterile and featureless as my bedroom. From there we went to my first class and my teacher came out to the hallway to be brought up to speed.

Mr Short. I remembered Mr Short. He listened to my story, his mouth a little "o" of surprise under his 70's porno mustache. When I was finished he blinked a few times - he had the longest eyelashes I've ever seen on a human being - and then said, "Well, whatever help you need to get caught back up just let me know."

"I'll speak to your other teachers." said the angel. "Is there anything else you need?"

"I think I'm OK... Wait, one last thing. What's your name?"

She looked surprised. "Mrs Harrington."

"Mrs Harrington," I told her, "I have no idea what they pay you. But whatever it is, it isn't enough. Thank you so much for everything."

She smiled. And left. And then I followed Mr Short into the classroom in front of everybody while they all watched me.

I looked the staring faces as Mr Short pointed me towards my regular seat.

But they're all just kids. I thought.

I've been so scared - of a pack of little kids.

It was going to be a rough year.