Мариам Петросян - The Gray House

“Well, I’ll be! That could just work,” he blurted. “It really could! What a nice idea.”

“It could work,” Darling admitted sourly. “Unless they get wind of it.”

Ralph didn't say anything. The thought of doing this to them didn't sit well with him. Declaring the graduation at the moment of graduation? It was low, it was unfair, it was cowardly. Very Shark-like, in short. But... Raptor was right—it could work. Had he any right to take away something that would guarantee them a month of peace? Especially when not offering anything in return?

So—silence, which also could be taken for acquiescence.

“In the interest of avoiding disclosure it will be necessary to institute restrictions on the communication between the students and their parents.” Godmother gave the counselors a severe look. “All calls to parents must take place exclusively on the third floor, and only with one of us present throughout. All visits to be approved on a case-by-case basis by the principal, with all visiting parents briefed in advance. Under no circumstance should we be mentioning the date being changed either in personal conversations or in written form when finding ourselves beyond the third floor. My strong preference would be for that rule to be observed even here. The telephone currently located in the staff room, I propose to eliminate. There is a suspicion that students do avail themselves of it.”

“Yeah,” Raptor whispered. “Suspicion my eye. They've been using it for ages. Who's this hag think she is?”

“And in conclusion.” Godmother's voice became louder as she shot a disapproving look at Raptor. “In conclusion. The true date of the graduation shall be known to two persons only, our esteemed principal and myself.”

Ralph imagined hearing the thud of Raptor's jaw hitting the floor.

Homer shot up, waving his hands madly. “This... It's an outrage! What do you mean—we don't know the graduation date?”

Sheep surprised everyone by piping up, in a reedy squeak, “I object! This is disgraceful!”

The explosions from the two most cowed counselors made Sheriff's menacing growls seem insignificant by comparison. Raptor peered ahead fixedly, gripping the arms of his chair. Ralph desperately hoped that he himself did not look stunned quite to that degree. Godmother, composed and self-assured, calmly weathered the barrage of hostile stares. Ralph couldn't but admire her composure.

“Allow me to explain,” Darling said when the excitement died down.

Clearly impressed by Godmother's grace under fire, she did her best to appear equally dignified. It was painful to watch.

“What you've just suggested is impossible, for several reasons. One,” she said, flashing a purplish-pink fingernail, “one, they need to gather and pack their belongings. It takes time. Two, parents! Even assuming that you do not reveal your secret date to us, you’ll have to tell them, right? Why do you assume they would keep silent? And when the day comes, some of them are going to show up early, the others late, and then there will be those who will simply inform us that they can't quite make it on that day but anytime else is fine with them, and so on. Imagine the mess! More than a hundred students suddenly finding out they're being taken away before having time to pack, say good-byes, put on makeup, write farewell notes, or whatever it is they would want to do... and add to that the parents—and us, also completely frantic, because... because we, imagine that, had no warning that the graduation was going to happen on that particular day! It's ridiculous! Just four of them leaving today has reduced us to ruins, and now you're expecting—”

“Please. Calm down,” Godmother interrupted Darling's effusive oration. “This is not the end of the world, as you seem to be imagining. Especially if we can keep our wits about us and refrain from inflating the issue to apocalyptic proportions.”

“Right.” Shark, visibly downcast, perked up. “It's not that bad. We went over the procedure in great detail, secured the assistance of certain third parties, and expect that with their help unrest can be prevented.”

“And who would those parties be?” Darling inquired.

No reply was forthcoming.

Godmother paced the room, arms folded firmly.

“I have an impression that you do not fully appreciate the need for maintaining complete confidentiality,” she chided, stopping by Homer, cowering in his chair. “Our pupils are nothing if not perceptive. The least misstep, from any one of us here, and the secret will be out. It is not even necessary to actually mention the date being shifted. An unusual burst of activity. A concerned expression. We could be sending signals and not realizing it. I am not talking about preparations.” Godmother glanced in Darling's direction. “But if for no apparent reason our belongings started disappearing from the staff room, it would attract attention. I want to stress that it is possible to slip unintentionally, thus endangering the entire initiative.”

“I'm not arguing with you.” Homer waved his hand feebly, obviously imagining that the harangue had been directed at him. “You have been quite clear. I apologize for my outburst.”

Godmother was smiling, looking over his head at Ralph.

He smiled back.

I get it, Iron Lady. Running around in panic—that's Homer. Darling has a packing fetish. Sheriff is a windbag. Raptor can betray himself by the triumphant look on his face. Sheep, by the long-suffering one. But what about me? What is it you suspect me of? Are you imagining I'm going to run straight to them and blabber about those precious plans of yours?

He caught that “yours” in his own thoughts, cringed, and half closed his eyes.

Is that really how I've put it? “Yours” and not “ours”? Maybe she really does have a point there, the old bitch.

“I am waiting for confirmation,” Shark demanded. “From everyone. No exceptions. Now. Because I do not intend to return to this after we vote.”

“I mean, I agree it's a clever plan,” Homer said hurriedly. “Even though I am annoyed at the lack of trust the administration has demonstrated.”

Darling snorted, “Oh! Lack of trust. That's what this is called now? Nice!”

“Do you agree or not?” Shark demanded.

“I agree.”

“I don't,” Sheriff grumbled from the windowsill. “Precisely for that reason. Making me into some kind of old gossip who can't be trusted with keeping a secret? I'd sooner resign than put up with this kind of attitude!”

“Perfect.” Godmother nodded. “No one is keeping you in the House by force. If your decision is final, prepare your resignation letter. The principal will sign off on it.”

The silence that fell on the room was disturbed only by the blades of the ceiling fan slicing through the air. Godmother, speaking for the principal in front of him, made everyone uneasy, and Sheriff doubly so.

“Now this is going too far!” he blurted. “Where d’you get off jerking people around? Who gave you that authority?”

“Everything our esteemed colleague expressed here has been discussed with me,” Shark said gleefully. “Discussed and approved.”

The expression on Sheriff's face was hard to describe. Ralph never imagined that he could be that shocked.

Where have you been for the last thirty minutes, you silly little man? How come you're only now getting what we all have already understood and accepted?

“And unless you decide to reconsider, please make sure that the letter reaches the principal's desk within twenty-four hours,” Godmother demanded. “We need to know definitively whether you are leaving or staying.”

“I am not about to resign this close to the end of the year!” Sheriff roared.