Taking a sip of her latte, Maricoh Jacondwey rubbed the foam her lips when there was a knock at the door. “Come in.” She said. She tried to sound kind yet stern. She wondered often if she achieved this.
The door opened and Alise Smithsonian stood in the doorway. She smiled at Mari and handed her a Danish which Mari bit into with relish. “What would I do without you?”
Alise shrugged. “Hibernate?”
“That’s not a bad idea, actually.” She said, taking another sip of her latte. Alise had been her assistant for three months now and things couldn’t be going better. She nodded to the girls organizer. “What have you got for me?”
“Well, Ma’am, Has and Yhestin have yet to show up for school today.”
“Have you notified their parents?”
Alise nodded. “Yes, but you know how they are.”
“Yes.” Maricoh did know. She knew all too well. “Well, it’s a good thing that they get such good grades. But still…” She sighed, knowing there was really nothing she could do. Finkelstein and Rosebude money funded the schools. Kilkade High would not exist without their generous funding.
Of course, Has knew this and used it to full potential. She sighed again. “Anything else?”
“Yes Ma’am.” Alise said. She grinned and Mari knew that the news would not be good. When Alise actually laughed, Maricoh knew she had a problem.
“What?” She said. “What now?”
Suppressing a laugh, Alise nodded. “Mr. McCutie was reciting Shakespeare in the hallways again.”
Maricoh took another sip of her latte and wondered if she should just put her head down on her desk and call it a day. She could just put her head down and go to sleep and dream of sugar plums, or pixie sticks, or whatever god damn things you were supposed to dream about.
She never remembered her dreams. Maricoh envied those who could recall their dreams with pitch perfect detail. She wondered what it would be like to dream in colour or in black and white. What tricks would her mind play on her.
A cold breeze filled the room and Mari shivered. She took another sip of her coffee. “Where is he?” She asked.
“He’s in the stairwell’s now, I think.” Alise said. “If I’m not mistaken, he’s just about to begin reciting lines from Hamlet.”
Maricoh groaned. “Not Hamlet. I hate that fucking play. I hate fucking Hottie McCutie, too.” She was surprised at her own honesty, but it was the truth. He was their head English teacher and he walked around like he was hot shit and his shit didn’t stink, if you could actually have the two together.
He was undeniably handsome. But he knew it. So did his parents, evidentially. Hottie McCutie was not a nick name. “It’s my name, cus I’m hot.” He said often. Every time she heard him say this (often times to a young girl on the school grounds or to one of the new teachers that didn’t know any better) she wanted to walk over and vomit on his shoes.
Picking up her latte, she stalked out of the office. “I’ll be back later, hold my calls and tell visitors to fuck off.” She said.
Alise snorted. “Will do.”
She walked towards the south end of the school, where the main stairwells were. Why architects had to design high schools in such confusing ways, she never knew. She had been principal here for nearly thirteen years and still couldn’t find her way around.
It was like their own private joke, she thought. We’re all like mice in a maze, hoping for some cheese.
She quickened her stride when she heard Hottie’s voice. When she saw him, her heart stopped, as it always did. He was just so darn gorgeous. But that little thrill died a little when she saw him holding his mirror.
Instead of a skull, he held a mirror aloft and looked at himself in the sunlight. “Oh, poor Yorick, I knew him well!” He sighed dramatically and flung an arm over his brow, keeping an eye on the mirror. “Now is the winter of my discontent! Rosebud! Rosebud!”
Maricoh snorted. “Man, you’re pretty but you’re also pretty fucking stupid.”
He turned to face her, the sun highlighting his spiked and coiffed do. It was dark, tinted with blond. “What?”
“You got two things mixed up. Rosebud is Citizen Kane. Not fucking Hamlet you reject.”
“You can’t talk to me like this!” He pointed into the sky, as if he were some sort of gorgeous super hero. She half wondered if the air in the old building would whip up and ruffle his hair, he was that beautiful. “I will talk to the union! I will not stand for this treatment!”
“Oh, blow it out your chocolate whiz way.” She said. “You have a class to teach and I don’t have time for this.”
He looked at her, slightly miffed. He slid the mirror into his front pocket and walked down the steps towards her. As he passed her, he whispered: “Now is the winter of my discontent…”
As he walked away, Maricoh snorted. “Is that the only line you know? If you’re going to quote from the play, at least know the fucking words. How much am I paying you anyways?”
Walking up the stairs to talk to Has’ and Yhestin’s teachers, Maricoh laughed again, the sound echoing off the old brick walls. “Rosebud.” She said. “Rosebud my ass!”
The laughter echoed like music.
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