Six

The Principal’s Office

Alma was resting but stirred when she realized Sharleen was seated at her bedside. She struggled to reposition herself to get a better look at her granddaughter.

Sharleen remained pensive. The conversation she’d just had with Alma’s doctor all but sealed Alma’s fate.

It’s just a matter of time, I’m afraid. We’ll do everything we can to keep her comfortable.

The thought of losing her last living relative was too much to bear. Alma’s death would be a grief too strong to survive.

What am I going to do without her?

“Sharleen?” Alma’s concern was heavy in her voice. “What’s the matter?”

Forcing a smile, Sharleen knew better than to cause more worry. Her grandmother needed as little stress as possible. “Just tired,” she answered.

Alma reached out and gave the top of Sharleen’s hand a few gentle pats. “I want to hear all about your first day. How was it?”

“Never mind about me. It’s you I’m worried about.”

“Me? Why worry about me? I’m an old woman who has lived a wonderful life. I’m fine, m’ija.”

Sharleen felt the first tear fall. “I’m so scared of losing you.”

Alma let out a long breath. “I know,” she said. “It’s just been the two of us for the last seven years.”

“And they’ve been wonderful years,” Sharleen said. “You’re my best friend, Lita.”

“I don’t want you to be alone.” Alma’s tone had taken a stern turn. “I hope you find love in this world. I wish that for you. I want you to find somebody.”

Not wanting her grandmother to see her cry, Sharleen stood and went to the window. Outside, night had arrived. Somewhere in the far distance, Sharleen could make out a string of holiday lights blinking. “Is it possible to feel love in more than one way?” she said. “I understand what it means to love a person, but can you also love doing something more than love anyone?”

By the time Sharleen got home, the hour was late. Although she had no appetite, she prepared dinner, which consisted of microwaved leftovers she dug out of the almost bare refrigerator. For the first time in months, she thought about reaching out to her childhood friend Ruby, but then decided against it, remembering they hadn’t spoke for a couple of years. Since Ruby left town to attend college on the other side of the country.

Instead, Sharleen ate in silence, sitting at the table for one in the sliver of a space next to the kitchenette. The sound of her fork on the plate seemed to echo and accentuate the fact that she was alone.

After a few bites, she shoved the plate away. The loneliness unbearable. And never-ending. Attention was drawn to the Christmas tree sitting on the kitchen table, just a few inches away from the half-eaten dinner. Sharleen reached out to the trio of photos of her parents when they were young, touching their faces with a gentle fingertip.

And then she cried.

The next afternoon, Sharleen entered the school office and approached the main counter.

Joyce was sitting at her desk, sipping a cup of tea. She stood when she saw Sharleen.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes, of course,” Sharleen answered.

Joyce let out a sigh of relief. “For a moment I was worried you were here to tell me you were quitting.”

Sharleen leaned closer. “Does that happen a lot around here?”

Joyce’s warm smile turned upside down into a sad pout. “I don’t even bother ordering name tags anymore.”

Sharleen reached into one of her book bags and retrieved an event flyer, something she had designed less than two hours ago at the university’s computer lab. She placed it on the counter. Joyce glanced at it. She turned her head as if she were trying to read it upside down. To help her, Sharleen flipped the paper around.

“I was just wondering … I designed this flyer for the holiday show,” she said. “Is it possible to get copies made so I can hand them out? I’m sure some of the parents would like one.”

Two people entered the office. One was a beautiful brunette who glanced Sharleen up and down before offering an arrogant smirk and a judgmental look of disapproval. The thin-haired man was very fashionable and stared intently at the woman, with a fan-like devotion in his bright, wide eyes.

“I would love to,” Joyce said, “but our copy machine hasn’t worked in a couple of months. It’s on my list of things to get fixed though.”

“Oh … I see,” said Sharleen. “I’ll see what I can do, then. Thanks, Joyce.”

“You’re welcome. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you aren’t quitting.”

Sharleen moved to leave, but the scowling woman blocked her path.

Is she the rude wicked witch of the school?

“Quitting?” she said with a sneer. “Already? My, my.”

“I’m not actually,” Sharleen explained. “I have no plans to quit … now or ever.”

“Really?” Those two syllables were stretched out, sounding like a mean purr. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Holly.”

The baby-faced man stepped forward and said with enthusiasm, “I’m George.” He looked curious. A bit dopey, but friendly.

“Sharleen Vega.” She said, taking a closer look at Holly. “I’m sorry I keep staring, but you look so familiar. I feel like I know you.”

Holly let out a short laugh, sounding like an evil wind-up doll. “What a small world. We went to school together, Sharleen. Right here. Don’t you remember?”

“We did?” Then, it hit her. Sharleen knew exactly who Holly was. She was someone she’d been trying to forget for years. “Oh, we did. I remember you, Holly. You look different now. Older,” she said. “You were awful to me.”

Holly let out a mini gasp. “That’s all in the past now. We’re grownups.” George was leaning in too close for Holly’s comfort, like a zealous dog hoping for a few pats on the head. Holly gave him a stern look and he retreated. “So…” she continued, “I hear you’ve been sent here to direct a Christmas pageant. Is that it? That sounds … fun.”

“Are you a teacher here?” Sharleen asked, fearing the answer.

“I am,” replied Holly, and it was clear she was proud of this fact. “For two years now. Fourth grade. They’re monsters but they love me.”

“Holly is everyone’s favorite teacher,” George interjected. “Just ask Joyce.”

Sharleen looked to Joyce for confirmation. It was obvious the school secretary was struggling to maintain a polite façade. “Everyone is entitled to their own opinion,” she stated.

In response to her neutral answer, Holly shot Joyce a death stare. She then turned her attention back to Sharleen. “I can’t wait to come and see your little show. I’m always up for a good laugh.” She moved to leave, expecting George to follow, but he was too busy grinning at Sharleen like a lovesick fool. “Come along, George!” Holly snapped. “I have some erasers for you to clean.”

On command, George hurried off, rushing to catch up with a fast-moving Holly storming down the hallway like a nightmare in heels.

Sharleen turned to Joyce and said with a gentle smile, “Like you said … nothing much has changed.”

On stage, Sharleen was teaching the students the steps to the opening number. For the most part, she noticed they were engaged and enthused, except for Raquel and Camilla who were busy making faces at Ivy, who was doing her best to ignore them.

Standing and watching them run through the first eight counts, Sharleen admired how quick Victor was with learning the choreography. He was a natural dancer; the steps came to him with ease.

“Very nice job,” she said to him.

He beamed in response to the praise. “Thank you, Miss Sharleen.”

“Okay, everyone!” she announced. “That’s all for today. I’ll see you back here tomorrow.”

The students started to gather their things and leave, except for Ivy. She sat at a table. Sharleen assumed she was waiting for her father to arrive, as was she—secretly.

“Bye, Silent Ivy,” taunted round-faced Raquel as she snaked her way out of the multipurpose room.

“Poor baby,” rail-thin Camilla added. “Silent Ivy doesn’t wanna sing.”

“Leave me alone,” said Ivy.

Sharleen struggled with the impulse to run after both girls, drag them back into the room by their hair, and make them apologize to Ivy, who had more talent than both girls combined.

Instead, she helped Victor slip his backpack on, knowing firsthand what that struggle was like. “I meant what I said earlier,” she told him. “You’re a really good dancer.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I like dancing a lot but…”

“But what?” she prompted.

“But some people make fun of me for it.” His dark brown eyes cast to the ground.

Sharleen sat on the bench seat so she and Victor could be eye to eye. “The other students?”

Victor nodded. Sharleen wanted to hug him. “Yeah … and my dad,” he said. “He doesn’t let me dance at home anymore.”

Sharleen swallowed her emotions, knowing that if she didn’t, she’d be crying her eyes out in front of Ivy, Victor, and Willie within seconds. “Well, when you’re here with me I want you to dance as much as you want,” she said. Sharleen glanced over to where Willie was watching her from a distance while she mopped the always-dirty floor. She offered Sharleen a reassuring smile.

Jake entered the room with car keys in hand. He looked in Sharleen’s direction before checking his watch.

While Ivy seemed happy to see her father, Sharleen noticed her reluctance to leave rehearsal.

“C’mon, Ivy,” Jake urged. “Time to go.”

Ivy stood and offered her father a pouty frown. “Already?”

Sharleen approached Jake. It was then she noticed his dimples. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Arlington. I don’t think we were properly introduced last time. My name is Sharleen Vega.”

“I know who you are,” he replied with curtness in his words. “You’re the new teacher.”

Despite his impatient and somewhat irritated tone, Sharleen continued to smile. “I’m not exactly a teacher … yet.”

He gave her a look and she noticed how dark and intense his eyes were. Like they could see right through her. “Oh? What are you then?”

Ivy moved and stood between them. “I already told you. She’s our director. For the Christmas show.”

At the sound of his daughter’s voice, Jake’s demeanor softened. “This show is all she talks about at home,” he explained.

“I hope that’s a good thing,” said Sharleen.

“Yeah … it’s been a good distraction for her.”

“I do hope you come and see it … the show, I mean.”

He looked at his watch again. “When is it?”

On impulse, Sharleen reached into her book bag and pulled out the flyer—the only copy she had. Without hesitation, she handed it to Jake.

“Well, I just happen to have a flyer right here. Just for you, Mr. Arlington.”

He took the flyer with a sense of obligation, not interest. “Thank you, Christine.”

“It’s Sharleen,” she corrected.

“Yes, right. Sorry about that.”

Sure, you are. If you weren’t so damn handsome, I’d give you a piece of my mind, even in front of Ivy and Willie.

Jake started to leave but suddenly stopped. He looked back. He seemed to be staring at Ivy and Sharleen, standing together side by side. For a brief second, Sharleen swore she saw a flash of tenderness appear on his beautiful face. Then, just like that, it was gone.

Did I just imagine that?

To confirm she hadn’t hallucinated his kinder side, he said, “It’s nice to meet you, too.” And she believed him. He followed this up with, “Call me Jake.”

For a moment, Sharleen felt she was back in the fifth grade, smiling at a boy she had a crush on who hadn’t noticed her until the last day of school. “Alright, Jake,” she replied.

“I’ll be here … for the show.”

With that, Jake and Ivy were gone.

Within seconds, a well-dressed formidable black woman who looked to be in her fifties appeared in the double doorway of the room. She looked authoritative and important.

“You must be Sharleen.” Her tone was warm but firm.

“I am.”

“I’m Betty Marchant, the principal of this school,” she explained. “Can you stop by my office before you leave for the day?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Thank you.”

Betty disappeared just as quickly as she appeared.

Looking concerned, Victor moved to where Sharleen stood next to the section of cafeteria tables.

“Miss Sharleen,” he said, “are you in trouble?”

Sharleen let out a sigh. “Probably, Victor. I usually am.”

“Yeah,” he said with a grin. “Me, too.”

Not too long after, Sharleen walked into Betty’s office and sat, struggling to maneuver her backpack and stuffed book bags.

Betty looked up from her computer screen and shifted her attention.

With a secret smile, Sharleen noticed a candy dish filled with jellybeans on Betty’s desk. She glanced around. The office was colorful and vibrant. Students’ artwork displayed everywhere.

Betty cleared her throat. “Miss Vega, thank you for stopping by.”

“Thank you for the invitation,” she said. “Joyce mentioned how busy you are. It’s so great to finally meet you.”

“Likewise. Meetings and phone calls keep me from the thing I love the most.”

“Vacation?” cracked Sharleen. Instantly she regretted her word choice as soon it was out of her mouth.

Betty seemed unfazed. “Spending time with my students,” she said.

“They’re very talented,” Sharleen gushed. “Really, some of them should be in a performing arts school or taking lessons from professionals.”

“Yes, about that,” said Betty. “How confident are you in their ability to perform? And be honest.”

“It sounds like you’re looking for some type of guarantee.”

“I am. It’s no secret that our school has seen better days. I keep asking for help, but I’m not getting any,” said Betty. “I’m at the end of my rope, but I have a feeling with you around, we might just be able to hang on.”

“I appreciate your confidence in me, especially since I just started here,” she said. “Honestly, it hasn’t changed much since the sixth grade.”

Betty raised an eyebrow. “You were one of our students?”

“I was. I spent seven long years here,” Sharleen said. “Most of them were wonderful. Except for Holly. No offense, but did you really have to hire her?”

“I had no idea,” said Betty. “That you were a student here, I mean. Then you must realize how much we need your help.”

Sharleen leaned forward.

You have my full attention, Betty Marchant.

“I’m listening,” she said.

“Unfortunately, it all has to do with funding.”

“Doesn’t everything?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” said Betty. “I’ve been fighting with the school board every day since I took this job.”

“And you need some backup?” Sharleen asked. “Say no more.”

Betty stood and came around the desk. She gazed intently at Sharleen. “I need you to put together the best holiday show this town has ever seen. If you can do that, I will invite the superintendent to the performance. Jessica owes me many favors, and it’s time to collect.”

“What does the show have to do with it?”

“Among other things, I want our school to have a performing arts program,” Betty explained. “A funded program. There’s nothing like that for young people in this area. I need the superintendent to come here and see the show and meet the students.”

“And give you more money?”

Betty nodded. “Something like that. I don’t want to say it, but this program and the show are our last hope…”

“You might not want to say it, but is it the truth?” Sharleen asked.

Betty took a deep breath. It was then Sharleen noticed the exhaustion in the woman’s eyes. “I’m afraid they might shut us down,” she said, already sounding defeated. “When you look at our test scores and then at the funding they give us to survive on … it’s not a winning combination.”

In response to this, Sharleen helped herself to a handful of jellybeans.

“I’m sorry,” she explained. “I’m a nervous eater.”

“Please … help yourself. That’s what they’re here for,” Betty said. Then, she added, “I buy a new bag every week.”

And for that reason alone, I will put my heart and soul into this.