Teach Me a Lesson (6 page)

Principal Hutton rolled a pen between his thumbs and forefingers. “I have to admit I don’t know who she is.” No wonder. He was principal to fifteen hundred students.

“She’s a freshman.”

He tossed the pen onto the desk and tapped a few letters on his keyboard. “Let me look at her grades and transcripts.” The school had gone fully online three years ago. “W-R-I-G-H-T?” he asked for the spelling.

Charlotte nodded.

He read. Charlotte noticed he didn’t wear reading glasses. “Hmm,” he murmured.

“What’s that mean?”

“Her grades are poor this year. But she was an A student in middle school.”

“So something changed over the summer?”

“Could be.” He tapped a few more keys. “And that was her third detention this year.”

It was only the beginning of November, which meant three detentions in two months. “Why didn’t somebody send her to me?” Because her main task was career and college counseling, management might very well have bypassed her. “Is she seeing one of the other counselors?”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t appear so. Her two other offenses were relatively minor, one for spilling soda on another girl’s shoes.”

“Was that an accident?”

“No. Says here she admitted doing it on purpose.”

Just like she’d confessed to dumping the beaker of sugar water on her lab partner’s head. At least the girl didn’t dissemble. “Did she say why she did it?”

“Nothing written here.”

“What was the other detention for?”

“Inappropriate language.” He glanced at her, a slight curve to his lips. “She used
your
naughty word to another student, Miss Moore. But I wouldn’t give her the same punishment. That’s reserved for you alone.”

Her skin flushed at the reminder. “I’m so glad to hear that, Principal Hutton.”

The sexy half smile still lurking on his lips, he sat back. “So what are you thinking?”

She was thinking about what she could do to get her next spanking. But he was talking about Melody. “Something happened over the summer to impair her motivation and her attitude.” She wondered when Melody had developed the extreme case of acne.

“Are we talking possible abuse?”

Abuse could definitely make a student’s motivation and attitude take a nosedive. There was also Melody’s attire and the way she hunched in on herself, a defensive posture. But her detention-worthy behaviors were aggressive. Abuse
was
a possibility, but Charlotte would like to see Melody’s eighth-grade school picture. She’d be willing to bet she’d looked like a different girl.

“I can’t rule out abuse, but I don’t feel that’s the issue. She’s got quite a case of acne, and that can be devastating at her age.” She shrugged. “But who really knows at this point? I’ve got an appointment with her this morning. I’ll see what I can figure out.”

“You should talk to your assistant principal about this.”

“I will. But you were the one who sent me to detention, so I came to you first.”

He picked up the pen again, twirling it in his fingers. “You should always come to me first for your detention.”

He was giving her the opening she wanted. “Don’t I have to misbehave before I get sent to detention, Principal Hutton?”

“With your track record, Miss Moore, I have no doubt you will.”

Rising, she smoothed down her pencil skirt, calling attention to her thighs. She leaned both hands on his desk, and his eyes dropped to take in the view down her blouse. Charlotte licked her bottom lip, making her lipstick glisten.

Then she whispered, “Cocksucker.”

“Miss Moore, I am shocked.” His eyes glittered lecherously. “Are you referring to me? Or to yourself.”

“I would never believe that’s what
you
are, Principal Hutton.”

“But I’d venture to say you are.”

She batted her eyelashes. “And proud of it.”

The muscles of his face tensed in an effort not to laugh, but he played his part. “Totally inappropriate language, Miss Moore. This requires extensive after-school detention.”

“I definitely need to be punished, Principal Hutton.”

“It’s going to take more than our usual forty-five minutes. We’ll need to do it at my house.”

“Whatever you say, Principal. I know I’ve been very bad.”

“Tomorrow night.”

She almost sighed. She wanted it tonight. Then again, tomorrow was Friday, with no school and no work the next day. The possibilities were limitless.

5

FOR ALL THE SIGNS OF RELUCTANCE—SHUFFLING FEET, SLOW
movements, failure to meet Charlotte’s eyes—Melody had at least been prompt. Wearing the brown hoodie wrapped tightly around her and the frayed hems of her baggy jeans dragging on the floor, she hunched in Charlotte’s guest chair and hid her face behind her hair.

Instead of sitting behind her desk after closing the door, Charlotte pulled a chair next to the girl. The position was less formal, and it also made the meeting feel less like a disciplinary action and more a friendly conversation.

But Charlotte did jump right into the issues. “I’m concerned about your grades, Melody. A’s in middle school and suddenly in high school, you’re barely passing.”

“Classes are harder,” Melody mumbled, but Charlotte could make out the words.

“Not that much harder. I went to high school, too.”

Melody shrugged. “Ancient history. Everything’s changed. Not enough teachers. They don’t have time for all of us. We need more computers.” She sounded like an ad for a bond measure to increase school funding.

“We have tutors and labs after school where you can get assistance,” Charlotte offered, but she already knew tutoring wasn’t going to help Melody.

“They’re just other students working for extra credit. They don’t know any more than me.”

So someone had sent her to the tutoring labs. “You know, these four walls”—Charlotte held her arms out in both directions—“are sacred territory. Whatever’s said inside them doesn’t go outside. You can tell me whatever you want. I”—she put a hand to her chest, leaning down to get a better glimpse of Melody’s face—“believe that the summer between middle school and freshman year is a very difficult transition period for a lot of people. And sometimes they need to talk about it.”

“Summer was summer,” Melody muttered.

“So nothing happened that bothered you or made you feel bad about starting high school?” She let her voice rise slightly, making it a question. Enough of the girl’s face was visible for Charlotte to note the tensing of her lips and the clench of her jaw.

Melody looked at her for the first time, lifting her chin to reveal the full ravages of her acne. “You mean this?” She stabbed a finger at her mottled cheek. “Well, yeah, Miss Moore, my face bothers me. And I feel bad about it. And I don’t like people looking at me. And I
don’t
like talking about it.”

“Have you been to a dermatologist?”

Melody snorted and shook her head. It was neither a yes nor a no. It was simply disgust. “I’ll raise my grades,” she said. “And I’ll play nice with others. And I’ll work on my self-esteem during these trying teenage years. And I’m sure I’ll grow out of it.” She grabbed her chest. “I’m sure I’ll eventually grow breasts, too, so I don’t look like a freak. Can I go now?” Her voice was an ugly sneer.

Melody had already had this talk with someone; obviously it hadn’t worked. Charlotte didn’t think all the trite phrases about inner beauty shining through and ugly ducklings turning into swans would make any impression either. In fact, they would probably make things worse. But Melody needed help.

“I’d like to talk again,” Charlotte said. “I’ll schedule you in for next Tuesday at the same time,” she added, not giving Melody an opportunity to back out.

“You can’t force me to come here.”

“Actually, with your disciplinary history, I can.” Of course, Charlotte hadn’t gone through any channels to do that yet. She would if she had to, but she was hoping Melody would simply volunteer.

“Fine. Whatever. But it’s not going to do any good.”

“I’d still like to talk to you.”

Melody made a face as she left, one that screamed boredom and gave no indication whether she’d return at the appointed time.

Charlotte concocted plans anyway. By next Tuesday, she’d make sure she was armed with more background. First stop, Facebook. People tended to reveal an amazing amount of personal information on social media these days, as if typing it all in while only your computer could see you meant that you weren’t telling everything to the world. But Melody was the anomaly. Charlotte couldn’t find her on Facebook. Or Twitter. Or Pinterest. She couldn’t find Melody anywhere in the social media whirl. It was unheard of. Not only had the girl dropped her friends, she’d dropped off the entire web. There was only one thing for Charlotte to do: She’d have to resort to the age-old world of high school cliques.

So, during lunch period, she headed up to the quad. The school had been constructed on a hill, five long buildings rising up, stairs and walkways in between, lockers along the outer walls beneath overhangs. The first building was Music and Drama, then English, Math, and Science, followed by the student quad, with the cafeteria off to the left, and the Administration building like a sentry just above the quad. Since the rain had stopped yesterday, and the sun was out, most students preferred sitting on the stairs running the length between the buildings. Beyond the quad and Administration were buildings for History, Social Sciences, and the languages. The gym, football field, track, tennis courts, and baseball diamond were down to the right on the flats.

Another person might have gone to Melody’s science teacher—and Charlotte would eventually do that—but if you really wanted to know what was going on, you got it from the students themselves.

Since she wasn’t a teacher and didn’t generally involve herself with disciplinary action, Charlotte had always found herself at an advantage with the kids. She performed more constructive duties with them, course planning, college planning, life planning. And they seemed to like her. She learned a hell of a lot more by listening to what students had to say. So today, she headed for one of her girls. The quad was awash in laughter and young voices as Charlotte approached the steps.

“Hey, Lydia, got a minute?”

“Sure, Miss Moore.”

Lydia jumped up from her seat amid a group of four girls. She was pretty, petite, and blond. A junior with a bubbly personality, she was getting her courses in line for medical school. An aggressive player on the water polo team, she was also on the debate team. Charlotte was sure Lydia would run for class president when she was a senior.

“Let’s walk,” Charlotte suggested. She stuck to the sun, heading slowly back across the quad. “Do you know a freshman named Melody Wright?”

“I’m a junior, Miss Moore, I don’t know any freshmen.”

Class snobbery. Charlotte wanted to laugh. “Don’t kid me. You know everyone, Lydia.”

The girl wrinkled her nose. “Well, I might have heard the name. Does she have—” Lydia circled her face with her hand instead of saying the actual words.

“She has acne.”

“Yeah, well, poor kid, I know who she is.” Lydia’s face softened as she pursed her lips. Her sympathy appeared real.

“What can you tell me about her?”

“Nothing.” She shrugged. “Well, almost nothing. A few idiots make fun of her. But I don’t hang around with kids like that.”

“I know you don’t. But you hear everything.” Charlotte pandered to the girl’s ego. “You know everything that happens in this school.”

“Well.” Lydia smoothed her silky locks. “Some of the worst call her Mudly instead of Melody because her face is like a volcano.” She grimaced. “Then there’s the fact that she’s got the figure of a boy. You just don’t know how being flat-chested can demoralize a girl. She’s got two big strikes against her.”

They were huge strikes. Just when boys started looking at girls and girls started looking at boys—although Charlotte had to admit they started looking a lot earlier these days than they had when she was in middle school. “Have you tried to make friends with her?”

Lydia stopped, looked at Charlotte. “I don’t know her at all, Miss Moore. Besides, I don’t think she wants any friends. Even if I approached her, she’d only think I was doing it to make fun of her. Like I was going to set her up for a fall or something.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve never actually heard anyone calling her names. If I did, I’d say something. This is just stuff you hear. Because, well, she stands out.”

Charlotte understood about the soda spilled on the girl’s shoe and the inappropriate word. Melody had been retaliating for some cruelty perpetrated upon her.

“Okay. So did you hear anything about science class and her lab partner?”

“I don’t listen to
gossip
,” Lydia stressed. “But there was something about her dumping a whole beaker of sugar water over his head. They were growing crystals with it, I think. At least that’s what Mr. Gunderson had us do in freshman science.”

“But you didn’t hear why?”

“I only heard that it was her boyfriend from middle school.” She widened her pretty blue eyes. “I guess they broke up.”

A boyfriend. Now that’s something Charlotte had never considered. “What’s his name, do you know?”

Lydia shook her head. “What I told you is all I know.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Look, I gotta get back.”

Charlotte realized Lydia’s friends were packing up. So were most of the other kids, crumpling paper bags, heading for the trash cans and recycle bins.

“Okay, thanks.”

“If I hear anyone giving her a bad time, I promise I’ll give them a piece of my mind, Miss Moore.”

“Thank you, Lydia.”

Charlotte sat on the edge of a recently vacated picnic table as the quad quickly emptied. The sun’s warmth seeped into her skin. Melody Wright actually had three strikes against her: her skin, her shape, and not enough self-esteem to appreciate her inner beauty. Because every child, every girl, every human being had something beautiful and special. Melody Wright just didn’t know how to see it in herself.

Charlotte’s mission was figuring out a way to show her.