Brollish didn’t smile. She didn’t laugh. But something changed in her posture. Something quiet, but dangerous. If the woman had mastered a soundless growl like I thought she had, she’d made an artform out of a subsonic laughter. She didn’t laugh. She didn’t smile. But she did stand up.
“Then out of due diligence,” Mrs. Brollish said. “To completely clear Mr. Gibson of these obviously false allegations, allow me to inspect his classroom.”
Beouf stood up, too. “Yes ma’am,” I said. I had no choice.
On the way out walking to my classroom, Janet shot me a look. ‘What the hell?’ it said. All I could do is shrug. Beouf was walking side by side with Brollish. A dark part of me wondered if this was part of some elaborate triple cross. I immediately even felt guilty about that, but feeling guilty was better than feeling afraid.
Brollish took out her set of master keys and opened the door to my classroom for me. I went inside first. “Well…” I said. My throat felt extremely scratchy and my one word came out as barely a whisper.
“This shouldn’t take long, Mr. Gibson.” Brollish said. “I’ll only be a moment and then we can put this whole thing behind us.” Like everything she did, her tone was calm. Cold. Calculated. There was more going on here.
I felt Janet’s hand squeeze mine back and only then did it register that I was holding her hand to begin with. I looked up just as Beouf kneeled down so she could put her hand on my shoulder.
The Principal went over to the supply cabinets, cabinets that were so high up I couldn’t possibly reach them without assistance. It’s where I had Tracy store arts and crafts supplies, and even she needed a chair to reach them. Even if what Amazons believed about Littles were true, it wouldn’t have made sense for me to hide any baby stuff in something so hard for me to reach. An Amazon, however; a tall stranger with a purse looking for things to plant…