Мариам Петросян - The Gray House

And still this motley gang, as idiotic-looking as it is, is my pack, Ralph thought. Or whatever can be called my pack. I am one of them.

Godmother was alone among those in the break room in having a presentable appearance. Trim, collected, resembling an aging French actress, she took position behind Shark, arms crossed, and the shoulder pads of her gray suit seemed tailor-made for military patches.

“So. Graduation,” Shark repeated meaningfully. “At our last meeting I called upon all of you to give this issue some serious thought and prepare suggestions.” Shark thrust his hands in the pockets, rocked on his heels, and added, “I shall now hear those suggestions.”

He fell silent, and it took the counselors a couple of minutes to realize that the introductory speech was over. They exchanged puzzled glances. Whatever else, Shark was never known to be succinct. For him to come to the point was usually the labor of the better part of an hour, giving everyone else enough time to finish their coffee, exchange some whispered gossip, and even catch a couple of winks. They'd acquired a knack for appearing to be listening to Shark's speeches while engaged in their own little distractions, and now, deprived by him of their customary ration of forced boredom, felt almost cheated out of it.

“I'm waiting,” Shark reminded them after the brief pause and fell silent again, to everyone's consternation.

Sheriff was first to get his bearings back. He yanked at his suspenders a couple of times before droning, “So, my suggestion is gonna be like this. On the night before the graduation we all go to our groups, right, and we stay there in the dorms and maintain order. Until morning.”

He cast a proud look around.

It was obvious that this was going to be rejected out of hand, but it allowed him to project the aura of a tough guy.

“If I may be allowed an observation.” Godmother stepped forward and planted herself in front of Shark. “To make your plan a reality, some of us would have to become twins.” She rested her gaze on Ralph. “And that is to say nothing of the situation in our quarters. Where we have thirteen dorms and four counselors. I am afraid you have not taken that into account.”

Judging by Sheriff's grimace, he'd never even heard about this until today.

“Um... I mean, how many have you got?” he said.

Darling giggled.

“We are caring for fifty-six young women,” Godmother articulated. “Housed between nine four-bed rooms and four six-bed ones. If I were you I would not be so ready to admit ignorance of such basic facts about the place where you've been working for years.”

Sheriff was not to be intimidated that easily.

“Come on,” he scoffed. “Like I would ever go there. I've got enough trouble as it is. All right, if’n that's so, let's knock our heads together some more. We can get all the girlies in one place. When it's just for one night it's not gonna be a big deal.”

“Speak for yourself!” Darling exploded. “And what, pray tell, is that place you're talking about? The lecture hall? I for one am not too thrilled to be cooped up on graduation night with dozens of deranged girls in a place that doesn't even have adequate sanitation. How do you propose we take them to the bathroom? Under armed guard? Or will you provide each with a personal chamber pot?”

Sheriff broke out into his infamous convulsive laughter. Swaying back and forth on the windowsill, he slapped his thighs, gurgled, and snorted, and his checkered polo shirt seemed ready to split apart under the assault of this much mirth.

Godmother finally took a seat. At the very edge of the chair near the door, still facing the counselors; more like a stern teacher in the classroom than one of them.

While waiting for Sheriff's exuberance to ebb, Shark pointedly stared at his watch.

“That's a winner!” Sheriff wiped his livid face with a battered handkerchief. “I'd pay to see that... Your stuck-up heifers... all in a row... holding the potties!”

A more conscientious person would have been skewered to the spot by the look Godmother was sending him, but not Sheriff.

“Now if your fertile imagination has fully enjoyed this picture, can we, perhaps, move on?”

Shark's sarcasm also missed wide. Sheriff's thick skin made him almost invincible.

“Sure, why not. Let's hear it,” he agreed. “So my idea didn't fly, I get it. Let's have others give it a shot.”

“Thank you,” Shark said icily.

And now if he says “Anytime” Shark is going to throw him out, Ralph thought. No one ever gets fired during the last term, but Shark will make an exception.

Luckily for him, Sheriff said nothing. Shark gave him another minute of the silent treatment and then, satisfied that there were going to be no more remarks coming from the windowsill, went on.

“Anything else?”

Darling rose up. She gracefully smoothed out her skirt and puffed her silver bangs to the side.

“I have a very simple suggestion,” she said earnestly. “We lock ourselves up on the third and let the night take its course. It's not like we have any idea what they're planning anyway. They could sleep quietly through the next morning, for all we know. Or they could throw a farewell bash. After all, don't they have a right to celebrate the occasion? It's the same in every school.” Darling batted her lashes and smiled obsequiously at Shark. “Wouldn't you agree?”

“This isn't a plan, it's a surrender,” Shark snarled. “I am not entertaining any more ‘run and hide’ proposals, or their variations, at this point.”

“Well, then.” Darling shrugged, doing her best not to show how hurt she was. “I have nothing further.”

Shark stared at Ralph. Transferred his gaze to Raptor, waited a moment, then waved a hand in invitation. Godmother stood up. Observing Shark's pointed courteousness as she took his place, Ralph realized that those two were in collusion over this. He didn't like it.

Godmother nodded to the assembly. Reset her spectacles. Cleared her throat.

“I cannot conceive of supporting the last proposal, even though it would be preferable to some others we have heard today. In my turn I would like to offer two ways to approach the current predicament. Please be assured that both of them were exhaustively researched to encompass all eventualities.”

Godmother spoke so softly that it seemed any noise, no matter how insignificant, would make her inaudible. Everyone strained their hearing in order not to miss a single word. A well-worn speaker's trick, but you had to admit—she really could make it shine.

Sheriff was leaning precariously off the windowsill, cupping an ear with his hand. Advertising his hearing problems. One could almost believe that the requisite earphone wires snaking into the ears of each Rat, deafening them, all somehow had ended up in his ears as well. At least, this was the impression he was trying to convey. That it was a workplace disability.

Ralph felt the rising tension. Something was about to happen, and happen very soon. Godmother was nodding at Shark and he leered at her in return. They behaved like two conspirators who didn't care to conceal their conspiracy.

“As all of you must be aware, the graduation is officially scheduled for the seventeenth of June,” Godmother went on. “I recommend moving it up. If the graduation happens earlier than anticipated, we may reasonably expect the pregraduation night to remain free of incidents. It goes without saying that under no circumstances should any students be apprised of this. The whole enterprise hinges on maintaining the utmost secrecy.”

There was a well-placed pause.

The counselors exchanged glances. Sheep's eyes filled with tears. Homer applauded quietly. Raptor shifted excitedly.