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This seemed to be the only safe question to ask, considering that Sam wasn’t sure she was ready to bring up their night together. The last time she did, Magdalene had simply waved it away like it was nothing, and Sam wasn’t ready to have what had been a transformative experience for herself dismissed or diminished yet again.
“I hired you, Professor, I had to check references.” Now Magdalene’s lips no longer tried to hide her smile, and it blossomed, transforming her entire face. The normally carefully neutral features were alight with pleasure and mirth.
Magdalene came closer, and despite her expensive dress made to sit down in the grass. Sam scrambled up and took off her hoodie, spreading it on the ground.
“Chivalrous to a fault.” The smile was gone, but the words held the remnants of the warmth it had been infused with moments ago.
“That dress is a work of art, it would be a shame to ruin it.”
“Dry cleaners exist even in this godforsaken place.” Now, these words were less than warm. Sam felt a certain unexplained resentment which had, in the past week, been spilled by the Headmistress on some things that pertained to the island. From the inconvenience of the ferry to the trustees who were ‘helping smooth the transition’, to the cat who still continued to roam the school despite Magdalene’s decree that ‘strange animals’ should not be allowed inside.
“Speaking of ruined things. What is your bone of contention with Tullinger? He goes out of his way to avoid you and you go out of yours to hide the utter contempt you feel for him. You don’t have the obfuscation skills to quite manage that, Professor.”
“Ah, my famed lack of a poker face.”
Magdalene’s lips quirked upwards, and Sam sighed. Apparently, unlike her, Magdalenecouldread Sam like a book. Was this really a surprise though? She’d done so from that fateful moment their eyes had met over the dim lighting in that Manhattan bar.
Sam looked out on the deceptively calm waters, ready to turn stormy and angry in a heartbeat, and pondered how much to reveal. Still, she was aware that most of her story had been well-documented in her student file and was—with Magdalene’s propensity for knowing everything about everyone well beforehand—probably not a secret to her.
“I’m sure you’re familiar with my history at Dragons. Well, as much of it as is reflected in documentation...” At Magdalene’s faint nod, Sam swallowed convulsively, still overwhelmed by how raw the wounds of her childhood were.
“Stanton Alden and Fredrick Tullinger were my legal guardians, with the school acting as the de facto one, considering I spent pretty much all my time here. Sometimes either one or the other of the gentlemen would invite me to their homes for holidays and such. I was thirteen when I received my last invitation to spend Christmas with the Tullingers. I socked Joel for being… I guess you can say a pretty horrible brat to me during their Christmas celebration, calling me a dirty orphan and having particularly nasty things to say about my mother and her abandoning me like the worthless human he believed I was. Alden, who was also invited to the Christmas celebration at the Tullingers’, took one look at Joel writhing in the snow, his nose broken and blood gushing everywhere, and told me to get my things.”
Sam gave Magdalene a rueful smile but was met with nothing but a stony glare, whether at her behavior or at Alden’s total lack of interest in the actual events that had preceded the altercation, Sam couldn’t tell.
“That’s okay though. I was spared any further boring gatherings over dry turkey. So no hard feelings on my part. Alden didn’t even read me the riot act, or punish me in any other way. Hell, he even left me the Christmas present that had been stashed under the massive spruce in the Tullingers’ foyer, so I guess he was not entirely disapproving of my behavior. Anyway, long story short, Joel has stayed away from me since then, and his nose has been giving him trouble from being set wrong, from what I gather. Score one for the ‘dirty orphan.’”
Not wanting to witness pity or sympathy, Sam turned away sharply, pretending once again to find the waves captivating. After taking a few calming breaths, she chanced a look at Magdalene’s face only to find it thunderous. Sam felt that she perhaps shouldn’t have been so concerned that she’d be pitied. It was clear that the Headmistress was a staunch disciplinarian and probably found her childhood antics to be less than pitiable or amusing. Or was she perhaps upset for her? Sam wanted to laugh at herself for even entertaining the notion.
“I bet you’d have expelled me for fighting, Headmistress.”
A shadow crossed Magdalene’s face, and for a second Sam thought she’d gleaned something underneath the careful veneer, but it was gone as soon as it had arrived.
“Considering the way your mere presence continues to intimidate Joel and how you still jump in feet first to defend lost causes, I believe you can’t be saved from your hooligan ways, Professor Threadneedle. And speaking of things that cannot be saved…”
She looked past Sam, gazing steadily down at the ocean, its rhythmic motion seemingly hypnotizing her. Whether or not she used the waves as Sam did earlier—to gather her thoughts or stall for time—Sam did not know.
“I am leaning towards not hiring Doctor Fenway for the position of English Chair. Her interview was a mess, and her leadership has been nothing short of lacking in the past years.”
Sam swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat.
“This school is her entire life.”
Sam had no idea why she was pleading. So far nobody had managed to overrule any of Magdalene’s decisions. She had summarily dismissed both Ruth Trufault and Jen Rovington, and Sam knew the Academy had advertised their positions faster than her former colleagues had managed to vacate their quarters. For some reason, she had not expected that Orla would follow their fate. She might not have entirely succeeded as a headmistress, as Sam was starting to realize little by little every day, but she was a talented and beloved teacher. Her students adored her. Her approach to teaching was innovative and captivating. Sam had assisted with several of her classes and was left utterly enchanted by the atmosphere in the room and the methods.
“I am hard-pressed to believe that. The school is in ruins, Professor, and while a large part of that is due to the neglect that the trustees have inflicted on the Academy and the endowment, her decisions as headmistress were equally ruinous. Surely you can see that now that you’ve been privy to some of them.”
But Sam could also see the other side of the coin. She knew intimately, from all the evenings spent in consultations, brainstorming, and discussions with Orla, that she’d operated under the worst conditions for years, with little to no support from the trustees. And Sam also knew that despite all that, the school had not folded. It persevered and continued to offer home and board to those most in need.
“I think it’s easy to cast stones post-factum, Headmistress.” Sam knew her tone sounded shrill, but she couldn’t help herself.
“Ah, the aforementioned defense of lost causes and the famed loyalty. That was another quality of yours that people kept bringing up. Your loyalty. You have quite a number of commendable traits, I can attest to some of them myself.”
The previous anger returned in full force. Yes, she was fully aware that it was standard practice to check references. But Magdalene had told her repeatedly that she would be hired, only to be vetted like everyone else. Or did it upset her because she was treated like everyone else, after what the two of them had shared? Sam knew she wasn’t being fair, she knew she was being rather bratty about the whole thing, but their personal situation aside, Magdalene was systematically dismantling everything Orla and Joanne and Sam herself had built in recent years. And that hurt just as much. She’d analyzed to hell and back which pain was stronger and for what reasons.
And that last dig about knowing some of her qualities? That one was just a punch below the belt when Sam was trying to concentrate on the school and not on all the things she’d been very good at during that night in Manhattan.
“I would appreciate it if we kept this professional, Headmistress.” At Magdalene’s raised eyebrow and another subtle nod, Sam went on, “I also appreciate that you have a hard task, but surely you are making it much harder by dismissing people who are qualified pedagogues. Orla Fenway may be a bad headmistress in your eyes, but she is an esteemed teacher in the eyes of hundreds. And not only are you firing her, you are further alienating the faculty and the student body with your… decisions.”
