Making An Ass of You and Me

"Can you keep a secret?" Five words, unspoken, speaking to a secret bond of trust, existing between confidantes,; however, in truth, but a foolhardy assumption.

The shadowy hallway feels cooler in the dim light. Rubber soles cushion my footsteps.

Ice. 

I need ice for a child's bumped bruised knee. I rotate right, taking three steps into the staffroom, on my quest for ice. I loop left, opening the freezer door as Hilary whooshes past, her face a mask of her emotions. The heat of her hostility, burning and bilious, sparking with spite, shatters my serenity. The crisp freezer air chills my cheeks as I withdraw one ice pack.

"Here you go," I bend down placing the pack on the girl's knee, `"This'll make your knee feel much better. You've been so brave. Off you to class." With a smile, she's away, I watch her journey down the black and white tiled hallway to her classroom. A wave and away she glides, out of sight.

Motionless, my mind circles around this interaction with Hilary. 

Hilary. What's up now, Hilary?

My thoughts circle the corral in my mind, pushing aside other thinking.

Taking a deep breath, my feet pad down the hall where I stand staring at Hilary's closed classroom. I've let Hilary hijack my curiosity, derailing my focus, so here I still stand, breathless, and tormented. 

Rap. Rap. Rap. 

Heavy footsteps vibrate under the door. It opens. I face Hilary.

"Are you okay?"

"I heard your comment." Hilary's words hang in the air, the slam's ferocity whooshing them into my chest.

This is not good.

As my heart hammers, I sink to the floor, cemented in panic

In the blink of my eye, I'm standing beside Janie. We're alone in the community kitchen, earlier today. 

"I'd like to shove a —- —- up their —-!"

Janie spilled the beans. Shit! Damn! 

Rising, straightening my shoulders, I gird myself in damage control.

My statement, spiced with vitriol, whispered to Janie, is PUBLIC.I'm the bullseye. Shit's coming! If Hilary knows, so that must mean Janie has repeated my words to everyone! 

My body flies on automatic pilot, floating past the office, turning left into the kindergarten, my radar seeking Janie — that informant, that snitch, that bitch. 

No light, no movement, no one is present. Thought the open door, laughter bubbles, wheels rumble, guiding me to the yard where Skye and Sharon shield Janie. 

Okay, action.

With eyes closed, deep breathing draws my focus from my drumming heart. In three steps, I'm bathed in sunshine, three sets of eyes glowering. Like a vacuum, the air hushes, muting the volume. 

Clomp-Clomp-Clomp.

Looking into Janie's blue eyes my voice is wispy. 

"Hi. I need to talk with you in private. Let's go into your classroom."

Janie's footsteps trace mine to a low table, our bodies eased onto bright blue plastic chairs. Sharon slinks behind Janie, lodging herself into an adjacent corner, a brazen eavesdropper.

"Janie. Are you okay?: Tears sparkle in her eyes, and she blinks twice.

"No."

"Have you gotten any support from the staff?"

"Yes. They've been just marvellous."

I am so stupid. I shouldn't have trusted her. Dumbass!

"Are you upset by our conversation earlier today? That private chat in the kitchen?:

"Mmm"

"I am so sorry that my words caused you to feel bad. That wasn't my intention."

"Thanks. I was so upset by what you said. Perhaps I could have spoken with you first, it's just that your words hit close to home. My husband and I are having 'issues' and that word, well it just freaked me out. I thought you must have heard something from someone. I was so hurt and angry"

"How sad! I'd have hoped you knew me well enough to know that I would never break your confidence." Janie's hand is cold and clammy. "I need to get in touch with Gwyneth. I'll get her to come to meet with us today. Right now, I'll get Lucy to work with Skye and your kinders when you're in this meeting. Okay?"

"Mmm."

With my right hand, I push my chair away from the table, uncoiling my body to stand in stiffness.

"I'll come and get you when I know more after speaking with Gwyneth. Take care, Janie." 

As I leave, Sharon sits on my former chair, her whispered words wound me like arrows. In shame, feeling clad in tar and feathers, I walk to my office, surprised it's 1400 hours. My grumbling stomach echoes in hunger — breakfast but a fleeting meal, encouraging an investigation of my lunch kit. 

Click.

Behind the office door, I am alone, the pounding in my head jumbling my thoughts so they flutter and float, landing in a stressful heap. Panic pushes and pulls, pressing down on my chest, permeating my being. Anger arrives, weaving a web, wrapping me in wrath. 

I will NOT go down without a fight. What a bitch! Backstabber. 

My fingers fly building a bulwark, block by block — arrange an appointment with my physician; contact professional advocate; organize office coverage. Calmness cocoons me as I call my superintendent, conscious to be concise and candid in my communication.

My office as centre stage, the players present Gwyneth, superintendent; Janie, blabbermouth; Sharon, standing and staring, me, leaning against my desk. The script is scattered, slipping to staff relations, slamming into my mea culpa, slurping around Janie's situation. The school bell signals the sounds of storming students, steadying supervisors, then, sudden silence. 

Gwyneth and I are alone, staring in silence. I dissolve, devolving into dark despair. 

"Whew. I'm glad that's over with. I'm wondering how are you?"

Trembling and tearful, my body bends, my head bows, I am small, sad, scared. 

"I need you to tell me what you said." Her grey irises gaze in gentleness. 

"I'd like to shove a —- —- up their —-!"

Gwyneth grasps her pen, preserving my phraseology. 

"Pardon me, I need to take this call. Please stay put, it'll be about this. Hello, Gwyneth speaking. How can I help you?"

Nodding, note-taking.

"Talk to you soon. Bye. Janie has contacted her union."

"Expected her to."

"You're taking some time off," intoned as a directive, not a discretion.