Both Beouf and Tarnia were standing over me. Patting me on the back. Shushing me. “This isn’t an essay,” I cried. “It’s a written accusation!”
“It’s gonna be alright Mr Gibson,” Mrs Beouf told me. “You’re fine. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
A hint of the other day’s old righteous indignation came over me. I looked up at my old ally with snot starting to bubble out from my nose. “Melony!” I squeaked. “There are Littles in your classroom who were adopted for less.”
“Well yeah,” Beouf replied. “But it was true in their case. Yours isn’t.” Right then I wished I could have believed her.
“Typical.”
“I don’t change diapers,” Tarnia said as if that solved everything. “I barely help with the kids’ Pull-Ups after the first report card. We make them do it themselves.”
“That’s not the point,” I said. “If they find anything that they could use to justify my firing, they’ll do it. And…and…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. It’d be all downhill from there. Fired meant can’t hold down a job, meant needed caring for, meant adoption and permanent revoking of my rights. All because I was Little. I buried my eyes in my hands again. “Typical.”
The world became a radio as I stared into the palms of my own hands.
“Fire you for what?” Janet asked.
“Immaturity.” Tarnia and Beouf said. “A tiny clause in all of our contracts. If they can reasonably prove that we’re unfit for our position, most often due to Maturosis, they can terminate our contract without additional proceedings or cause.”
Janet sounded confused. Offended even. “Why is that in his contract?”
“Typical.” The word was becoming a moan of pain instead of a curse. They weren’t really listening to me by this point. Not that they needed to.
“It’s in all of ours,” Tarnia told Janet. “Yours too. Mixed up in there with all the other gobbledy gook that you sign.”
“It’s a provision left over from a couple of decades ago,” Mrs Beouf said. She was still gently patting my back. “It was the only way to get the Union to allow Littles and Tweeners in. They didn’t want to be seen as supporting incompetents. It’s never been phased out. Politics.”
“Will they find anything?” Janet asked. “Anything that could get him…y’know…?” I was too overwhelmed to be insulted just then.
It was Tarnia who scoffed, but Beouf who answered. “Nothing that Brollish or one of her suck ups don’t plant themselves.”
“Typical.”
“Why don’t we just lose the paper?” Tarnia suggested.
Beouf gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Can’t do that. We’re all mandated reporters and this is a serious accusation. If we don’t report it, we’re all liable.”
“Typical.” It was the only word I had just then.
“Then what do we do?” Janet asked.
“Hypothetically?” Beouf said. “Because of the way it was submitted, we have some plausible deniability as far as time table. Clark didn’t find this, today. Mrs Grange might find it tonight finishing up the grading, and report it first thing in the morning.”
Janet took the hint. “And while I’m discovering it, what’ll you two be doing?”
It was Tarnia who said it first, and best. “Scouring his classroom. Making sure there’s no wiggle room for Brollish. Covering Clark’s butt so that someone doesn’t diaper it instead.” No one laughed.