Here is an excerpt from my short story, “Maganti”
The next morning, I was sitting in the teacher’s lounge of the Crescent School before school started. I was sitting in a burnt orange armchair which color did not really seem to match the rest of the room, but it was comfortable, nonetheless. I had been sure to carefully tie and pin my normally untamed mahogany hair into a neat bun with a few loose strands framing my face. I was wearing a cream-colored button-down, with a black, wool pencil skirt, black sheer tights and sensible flats. I had ditched the idea to wear heels because I figured I would be spending most of my day chasing after impossibly fast kindergarteners. They hadn’t even offered me an assistant teacher, so I would be responsible for wrangling the little gremlins on my own. But, from what I was informed, the classes were purposefully kept small in number, so it didn’t seem like that big of a deal to me.
Originally, I was all alone in the lounge. Since I had a tendency to be chronically late, I didn’t want that to be the case for my first day teaching, so I showed up obscenely early. I hoped I could keep this streak up. Then, a middle-aged, lanky blonde man in a navy suit with a red paisley tie walked into the lounge, looked at me and waved. I recognized him instantly as my new boss—Principal Robert Clay.
“Good morning, Natalie,” he said pleasantly, “I’m glad to see you found the lounge ok. Are you ready for your first day?”
“Oh, yes,” I said, smiling nervously. This was literally my dream job. “I’m a tad nervous, but I suppose that isn’t unusual,”
I noticed that when Mr. Clay smiled, his smile didn’t quite reach his steely blue eyes. They were actually cold. In fact, if one were to take a picture of him and take both his eyes and smile separately, they might have formed different expressions. Perhaps that’s what was making me uneasy. But there wasn’t really any need to be. After all, his tone was genuinely pleasant enough.
“Being nervous on your first day is expected, both as a student and as a teacher,” he said reassuringly, “You’ll do great, Natalie. I hired you for a reason.”
“Thank you, uhh…”
“Mr. Clay,” he said, answering my question as to how he wished to be addressed, “I am your boss, after all.” I hadn’t been sure if he was casual or formal. Formal it was.
His smile widened a tad but still didn’t quite meet his eyes. To be quite honest, it was a bit unnerving. I smiled back weakly, trying my best to not show my discomfort.
Mr. Clay seemed satisfied and nodded, “Well, I won’t keep you,” he said a bit brusquely, “I’m sure you have a few things to do to prepare for your first day. Please do let me know if you have any questions about the school.” And without another word, he turned around and left the lounge.
As soon as Mr. Clay had departed, an older woman with iron-grey hair in a bun even tighter than mine with silver oval-shaped glasses walked into the room with a slightly stiff gait. Perhaps she had arthritis in her back. When her gaze met mine, she smiled warmly—the opposite of Mr. Clay.
“Hello, dear. I don’t think we have met yet,” she said, her warm tone matching her smile. She sat down in the blue armchair opposite me and crossed one leg over the other.
“Hi,” I said, feeling my own smile spread across my face, “What’s your name and what do you teach?”
“I teach sixth grade and my name is Mrs. Abigail Braun, but you can call me Gail. Everyone does.”
“Hello, Gail. I’m Natalie Miller. I’m the new—“
“Kindergarten teacher,” she said, guessing correctly. “It really is a shame what happened to Sheryl, the previous teacher, but you will fill her shoes nicely. I can already tell!”
I felt my curiosity rise. It was none of my business, so naturally I asked, “What did happen to her?” It seemed like an innocuous question, but I knew two things instantly. One, Gail shouldn’t have mentioned Sheryl and two, I should not have asked that question.
Immediately I felt Gail’s demeanor change. She seemed to withdraw into herself emotionally-almost physically. Her face went pale, and her initial warmth was all but gone. Her eyes flicked to the door, as if she was afraid she had been overheard. She seemed to recover quickly enough, but something was definitely off.
“Oh that?” she said, a little too jovially, “She had…complications after she gave birth to her daughter. Post-partum depression…you know…” she trailed off, sounding not the least bit convincing. Though I did not believe in spiritual nonsense like John or Rebecca did, I had always prided myself on having good instincts. And my instincts were telling me either that Gail was not telling me the full story, or she was flat-out lying. Her eyes still seemed to hold a terrified expression that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
The memory last night of the date John and I had at the diner and the conversation he, Rebecca and I had about the rumors of the school being haunted floated, unwelcome into my thoughts. Of course the school wasn’t haunted. It was a ridiculous rumor.