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Magdalene made her way up the stairs and down the corridor reserved for the faculty quarters. Earlier, Timothy had tried to insinuate himself into her plans, and entertaining him was the reason she was as late to retire for the night as she was. She still wasn’t sure if he’d be a pain or an asset. In Timothy’s customary fashion, he was probably both.
She sighed and was about to insert the key into the lock of the last door in the hallway, when it opened inwardly with enough force to make her jump.
“You’re here!” At George’s singsong, she narrowed her eyes, and the pulsing pain behind them that she had tried to keep at bay all day returned with a vengeance.
“I am.” Magdalene crossed the threshold and allowed the door to swing shut. With the click of the lock, the rather spacious studio felt smaller.
George stood in the middle of it, wringing her hands in obvious anticipation. Magdalene was tempted to roll her eyes, but realized it would only serve to aggravate her headache, so she settled on a half smile and finally looked around.
Her bags had been brought in and carefully placed by the large closet. The bed was made, and it appeared the small kitchenette was stocked. Her secretary had outdone herself. Magdalene allowed her smile to stretch a bit more and nodded.
“Thank you, George.”
George laughed, hugging the praise to her chest before sobering.
“I still don’t understand why you didn’t throw Fenway out of the headmistress’ cottage. It is rightfully yours.”
Ah, so George was here to gossip then. Magdalene rubbed her neck. She needed a drink and maybe sleep, but she realized her secretary would not be pacified without hearing something tasty.
Before she even turned her head towards the kitchenette, George was already pouring the whiskey. Magdalene’s weary shoulders drooped. So this wasn’t going to be a short chat.
“A screaming match wouldn’t have served my interests.” Their fingers touched as George passed the tumbler, both glass and skin cold.
“She thinks she’s in charge.” Her secretary’s voice was suddenly slightly hoarse, but as Magdalene raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her, George waved the silent question away. “Went down the wrong pipe, that’s all.”
Magdalene blinked a few times, her eyes dry and scratchy, only intensifying the headache.
“Alright then.” George seemed peculiar, but she did not have the energy to deal with her friend’s oddities tonight. “Fenway will most probably have to go either way. The more I dig into the records, the more I am convinced of her incompetence as headmistress. But she is a popular figurehead. I am reluctant to cause a stir right off the bat.”
George’s laughter, sudden and loud, startled her.
“Cause a stir? Maggie, I hear you are way past that and well into full on hurricane-mode. Firing everyone? The sanctimonious assembly speech by Joel? Timothy all but drooling all over you in public? I think these little people have no idea what hit them!”
Magdalene shook her head and took another sip from her glass, now warm from her own palms, soothing her chill.
“They needed a kick in the teeth, and most of them will be rehired, anyway. No way can I find replacements within two months. Honestly, should I even bother with the way things are going? This place may be razed off the face of the Earth and from the Massachusetts registry of functioning schools by then.”
Magdalene drummed her fingers on the countertop. The thought was suddenly sobering. Too sobering, and she pushed it aside. “And who would agree to live and work on this godforsaken piece of rock? But even you can’t ignore how desperately the school needs a shake up. In debt, morale beyond the pale, behavior absolutely unbecoming anyone resembling an educator…”
She kept taking small sips of her drink. There was no use in getting heated. And why was she even concerned? The fact that the state of affairs she’d encountered at Dragons actually impacted her at all was ludicrous.
Everything, from the cracks in the walls, the sagging roof, the mice… God, the mice… She half expected to have to deal with one this very night, her imagination surely playing tricks on her, or were those real scratching noises somewhere in the corner of the studio?
“You were saying?” George’s question interrupted her musings, and she realized she was doing it again. Spacing out. If it wasn’t Sam, it was this damn school. She needed to shake both loose and just do her job. Magdalene had been in a ‘I will deal with all these thoughts and emotions later’ mood all day, pushing aside her feelings and intrusive ruminations. Well, maybe she did not need to deal with any of them at all. The school should at least get her best effort, even if she did not yet know to what end.
“The place is a mess. And Joel and his brand of pontificating don’t help me at all. He thinks he can play Good Shepherd or whatever saintly garbage he is full of. I do not take my orders from him, even if I have to placate him for a while.”
And honestly, he was so damn adamant that the school was evil and unworthy of existence, Magdalene was tempted to save this godforsaken place just to spite him. After all, there was nothing wrong with spite. People have used it as a motivator for millennia. Magdalene herself was no exception.
“Alden is the man to watch out for?” George was hanging on her every word, and Magdalene caught herself.
“One of them, yes.” She carefully placed her tumbler on the counter before fully turning towards George. But as she opened her mouth to wish her secretary a good night, George beat her to the punch with more gossip.
“Timothy doesn’t like Sam.”
“Oh?” Magdalene wished with all her heart that she’d been able to keep the air in her lungs, because true to form, George latched on to it immediately.
“Yes! He kept glaring at her all throughout the assembly. And then he was downright rude to her when Alden introduced her to the new trustees.”
