Jeannie Watt - Just Desserts

After a very long, very silent moment, she tried to moisten her lips, but her mouth was so dry it was impossible. She cleared her throat. Her head throbbed as blood pounded through her skull. “Oh, dear,” she said numbly, thinking it was best to let Ella direct the conversation—at least until her brain recovered enough to do some quick thinking.

“This appeared on Facebook. A concerned parent called me. Do you have an explanation?”

“I, uh, became ill when I was leaving the hotel at Lake Tahoe?”

“Food poisoning?”

“That’s what it felt like.” Not really a lie.

Ella nodded. “That’s exactly what I’ve told the half dozen parents who have emailed me concerning this photo.”

“Are they buying it?” Layla asked, her stomach knotting at the idea of parents contacting Ella about her. She’d always been so careful to behave in an exemplary way. Coming from the freewheeling lifestyle her family reveled in, she was doubly careful to stay within boundaries, color inside the lines.

“Short of running a toxicology test on the residue, what choice do they have?” Ella asked with a sniff. “I told them it was food poisoning.” Her lips thinned as she pressed them together. “See that it doesn’t happen again.”

She didn’t need to remind Layla that at the end of this year, her annual contract might not be renewed. Private school contracts went year to year and she had no union to negotiate for her—the price she paid for teaching the best and the brightest.

“I appreciate your support,” Layla said. She swallowed and then asked, “Is that the…only photo?”

“Might there be more?” Ella asked in a deadly voice.

Layla instantly shook her head. “I didn’t even know about this one. I just don’t want any more nasty surprises.” Such as a photo of her taking a swing at her ex in a parking lot. Her hands were clenched into tight fists and she forced them to relax. Surely if there’d been more pictures, they would have made their way onto Facebook, as well.

“Neither do I,” Ella said coolly.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Layla stated. For a brief moment she thought about telling her exactly what had happened and why, but that wasn’t the principal’s concern. Layla was not going to pour her troubles out to her boss, especially when the woman was going to bat for her with the concerned parents—and when it might make her wonder if Layla and Melinda could continue to work together. “But I want to apologize for all the trouble you’re going to on my behalf.”

Ella’s expression remained serious. “I hope it’s enough.” Layla didn’t even want to think about what that meant. It had to be enough. “Time is on our side,” the principal continued. “Memories are short, and by the time the break is over and the students come back, this will probably be long forgotten.”

Layla was certainly happy that she’d screwed up at the perfect time.

Ella smiled slightly, her dismissal. “I think everything will be fine.”

Layla nodded in agreement and left. Everything would be fine—except for the part where she and Melinda had to share the same air. Conniving bitch.

But Robert was to blame, too.

Conniving son of a bitch. In many ways she blamed him more, because Melinda couldn’t help herself. She was wired to be cute and competitive, to be the winner at all costs, in all forums. Everyone knew that.

Layla hurried down the hall to her room, glad that the building was, for the most part, still empty. Teachers at Manzanita tended to work late rather than come in early, except for a few diehards. The light was on in Mr. Coppersmith’s room, but there were rumors that he never went home. Ever. Layla tried to recall a time she’d arrived before him or stayed after him, and couldn’t come up with one. Melinda’s room, two doors down from Layla’s, was dark, and so was Sandy Albright’s, directly across the hall. Safe. For now.

Layla fitted her key into the lock, felt the smooth click and let herself inside, closing the door behind her. Then for a moment she simply stood, tote bag with lesson plans and books in one hand, her purse in the other, studying her desk, neat as always. The student work posted on the back bulletin board. The walls she’d painted pale blue herself on her own dime, after reading that the color fostered creativity.

She’d worked so hard to get here, into this posh private academy, and she worked equally hard to stay here. Yes, she got headaches and stomachaches worrying about her job, but that was the price she paid for having students actively working to achieve their destinies. Students who wanted to learn. They were for the most part a privileged lot, special and well aware of it, but they were also just kids.

And one of them had probably snapped her photo in the Lake Tahoe parking lot and then posted it on Facebook for all to see.

Which one?

Did it really matter?

Layla turned on the light and left the door locked so that no one could pop in on her without knocking—just in case she had another crazy bout of tears once the numbness wore off and the ramifications of having that photo posted set in.

Thankfully, no one was foolish enough to attempt to enter her room that morning, although Layla could hear people in the hall. Was Melinda one of them?

Were people talking about her?

Layla had never been the subject of gossip before and she sincerely hoped she wasn’t now, but the words fat and chance kept circling through her mind.

She ate her lunch alone at her desk, slipped out unseen twice to use the ladies’ room, then scuttled back for cover. If she could make it through today, then she’d be able to face the faculty meeting tomorrow. She just didn’t feel quite steady yet, didn’t trust herself to be able to look into Melinda’s face and smile as if she didn’t care about what had happened.

But her solitary, strength-building day ended with a call from Ella just before the final minutes of the school day ticked to an end.

“Please see me before you leave.”

“I’ll be right down.”

Layla’s stomach tightened the minute she saw the older woman’s expression. Trouble. Possibly big trouble.

“It appears we have a situation,” Ella said. “Your photo has gone viral, I believe the term is, and parents have been calling all day. Apparently several students attending the concert at the hotel saw you ‘draped’ over a man, barely able to walk, you were so intoxicated.”

“Or ill.”

“They aren’t buying it, and because of that, because of the particular parents who have been calling with concerns…to mollify…” Ella pulled in a deep breath. “We will have to resort to a temporary restructuring of classes.”

“What kind of restructuring?” Layla asked quietly, her heart hitting her ribs in slow, steady thumps. She knew the answer, could read it in Ella’s eyes. In a private school, where parents paid big dollars for their children’s education, they had more say than in a public school, and apparently the masses had spoken.

“Considering the tremendous…flak…we’ve received regarding the photo…well, you know how it is. Once a rumor takes hold, it’s very difficult to counteract it, and many of our parents are highly reactive. They spend a great deal of money to send their children here....”

Ella continued her long-winded explanation as Layla left her body and floated above the scene, watching herself stare politely at her boss, the picture of composure, while inside she was screaming, “Get on with it already! Tell me that I’m losing Advanced Placement English and taking on Life Skills. Just spit it out!”

“And for that reason…” Ella let out a sigh that made her shoulders sink “…I have no choice but to give Melinda Advanced Placement English and you will take over Life Skills for the next semester.”