A Conference With Death

A Conference With Death 

By: Korey Dear 

'Tonight's the night; I can't believe the first quarter is over. After six years in the eighth-grade hallway, I should be used to how quickly the quarters were over.', thought Ms. Wolf. It had started like any other conference; teachers were all sitting in the gym waiting to speak to students and their parents. While there was a lull between meetings, Ms. Wolf took a bathroom break. As she descended the stairs, Ms. Wolf heard hushed voices of arguing. She could only make out a woman's voice saying, "Fix it now, or you will regret it." As Ms. Wolf turned to go back up the stairs to avoid getting caught, heavy footsteps came quickly towards her. Trying to slow her rapidly beating heart, Ms. Wolf continued down the stairs and acted like she hadn't heard a thing. Just as she reached the last step, Mr. Neverdown, the assistant principal, rounded the corner. His face was pale, and sweat dripped down his forehead like a rainstorm. 

"Are you alright, Mr. Neverdown?" Ms. Wolf asked. "Have you eaten at all today?"

"Oh, I am just ship shape, Ms. Wolf," Mr. Neverdown said. "I had some pasta salad for lunch, so don't worry about me. Shouldn't you be upstairs?"  

"I was just taking a quick restroom break, and then I will be right back," said Ms. Wolf. 

"Alright, make sure you get back as quick as you can; it's a madhouse," Mr. Neverdown said sternly. 

"I will do that. Please make sure to eat something; you look like you're going to drop at any moment," stated Ms. Wolf. 

Ms. Wolf was so busy the rest of the night that she did not think about the strange encounter that she overheard until the following morning. As Ms. Wolf set her stuff down in her room, she heard the crackling of the overhead speaker system. "All teachers meet in the library immediately," a voice boomed. As the last teacher entered the room, Mr. Northerson, the principal, said, "I am afraid I have some bad news. Mr. Neverdown was found dead this morning in his office. It seems to have been a heart attack, but there will be a formal investigation, and Mrs. Yellow will be in the counselor's office if you need to speak to someone." All the teachers broke off into small groups and started talking at once. Ms. Wolf joined the 8th-grade hallway conversation with three teachers who had been in the district longer than she had been alive. Mrs. Weaver was short, petite, and one of the nicest people you would ever want to meet. She was the opposite of Mrs. Donit, not in size but in personality. Mrs. Donit was loud, outspoken, truthful to a fault, and had no patience for repeating herself when asked for advice. Lastly, Mrs. Writeaminute was hard-working and bossy, with medium stature and long hair. 

"What the heck is happening? Is this real?" Mrs. Weaver's voice trembled with shock and disbelief, echoing the sentiments of the entire room. The uncertainty of the situation hung heavy in the air, adding to the mystery. 

"I can't believe this; we just saw him yesterday," stated Mrs. Writeaminute. 

"Does this mean we get to go home early?" Mrs. Donit's nonchalant question contrasted sharply with the shock and disbelief of the others in the room. 

As the conversation unfolded, Ms. Wolf returned to the argument she had overheard the night before. All three women sounded like the mysterious woman and had multiple conflicts with Mr. Neverdown since the new school year began. Mr. Neverdown never stopped complaining about his job or asking Mrs. Donit questions and never listened to her answers; she was one question or complaint away from snapping. Mrs. Writeaminute had also applied for the assistant principal position, but since Mr. Neverdown was related to the superintendent, he was the one who received the position. Mrs. Writeaminute did not take that well and would openly tell people what she would do differently in his place. No one was quite sure what Mrs. Weaver had done, but there was talk about the rumor mill that Mr. Neverdown was trying to take her to the board to get her fired and strip her of her teaching certificate. They all had a motive to get rid of Mr. Neverdown, and because of the conferences, they all had an opportunity. 

The question is, Ms. Wolf thought,  how did they accomplish this to make it look like a heart attack? As she thought about it, she remembered when the eighth graders were completing a science lesson that required latex gloves. Mr. Neverdown had told Mrs. Donit that he was allergic to latex and refused to go into her classroom that week. "I will have to keep that in mind, for when my patience runs out with him," Mrs. Donit told Ms. Wolf after that day. But how would Mrs. Donit have gotten Mr. Neverdown to touch latex when he refused to even be in the same room with it? Also, all the teachers were in the gym the whole time, besides taking bathroom breaks and getting food from the concession stand that Mr. Neverdown set up himself. 

By the end of the day, the police had declared it as a natural death due to a heart attack. 'I guess I will never know who that mysterious voice belonged to, especially since it doesn't seem to have mattered anyway,' thought Ms. Wolf. 

As the parking lot cleared, Mrs. Weaver walked to her car, patting her purse. Inside was a bottle of avocado powder that no one had seen her sprinkle on the pasta salad Mr. Neverdown had in the refrigerator for lunch. As a former employee of a caterer, she knew that a person with a latex allergy was also allergic to avocado. 'That will teach him to mess with my career; no one comes between my students and me.  I have moved and changed my name too many times; it seems like the ninth time's a charm. No one ever suspects the sweet, kind, innocent teacher,' Mrs. Weaver thought as a wicked smile spread across her face. "Who's next?" 

The End