I’m not going to lie: As scared as I was, sometimes moments like these made it all worth it. Some Littles took up skydiving. Others climbed mountains with no safety harnesses. Me? I became a teacher.
Incidences like this one are another reason why I think Amazons are crazy. If one managed to figure out their particular quirks, you could play to them and they’d have no choice but to play along, no way to adapt.
Miss Forrest hemmed and hawed. Stalling. Looking for a way out of the rules she’d set down and not finding any. “Um…uh….um.” I had her stumped. If I was going to eat one, she would have to too in order to keep up the farce she’d weaved.
The gentle tones of the morning bell rang out over the intercom. Both of us breathed a sigh of relief. Her visibly. “Better get going. The buses will be unloading. Wouldn’t want you to be late for class.”
I ignored the way she phrased that last sentence as a slight against me. I’d won. She wouldn’t admit it, but I think she knew it. “Quite right, Miss Forrest.”
“Mr. Gibson,” a voice came up behind me. “I hope you’re not dawdling to avoid the responsibilities of your job, young man.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stuck out. It hadn’t been thirty seconds, and already Mrs Brollish, Oakshire Elementary’s Principal for the last five years was standing behind me. Raine Forrest was the second most likely Amazon to see me fired and padded up. If you’re reading this, you now know the first.
I bit my tongue so hard it almost bled. Another lightbulb! Two in one morning. Not bad, Clark. Not bad. I replaced the lid and gave the box a slight rattle as I turned around. “Not at all, Mrs Brollish,” I said, looking up. “Miss Forrest had just gifted me these wonderful chocolates.”
I re-opened the lid. Perfect! The laxative bonbons were a little jolted around, but they still looked very presentable. Better yet, one of them had shifted positions and was now occupying the chili flake middle space. “Would you like one?”
Damnit. I just couldn’t help myself! I held out the box, the lid open so that Brollish could see. Just as I’d hoped, a large, wrinkled, bony hand was making a beeline for the bonbon in the dead center.
“NOOOOOO!” Miss Forrest was falling all over herself, tumbling to the floor to slap the box out of my grasp. The chocolates went scattering to the floor.
“Oh no!” I yelled. “My present!” It was bullshit of course, but certain parts had to be played out.
Forrest was on her hands and knees. Finally! I was just a little bit taller than her, if only by an inch or so. “Ooops,” she said, looking right past me and up to our boss. “Butterfingers…?”
Mrs Brollish was a wretched old beldam of an Amazon, but she was significantly quicker on the uptake than Miss Forrest. “Miss Forrest,” she said. “We’re going to have to talk…privately…” I felt her gaze shift to me. “Mr. Gibson,” she said curtly. “The buses?”
“Right away Ma’am.”
And I walked off, doing my best to hide my own smug expression and grin.
