Study Hall Smoke (4 of 10)

Dawn's sweaty palm peeled away from her pink glossed lips and her mouth was agape. What did he just say? Snoop mode was activated. Curious girl, the Great Sleuth. Her inner Nancy Drew. Every nosy girl she had ever been raised on was channeled as she heard those words out of the teacher's mouth.

"Did you bring the money?" he had said. Dawn crept back up to the end of the table and peeked her bespeckled emerald eyes over the edge. She cupped a well manicured feminine hand to her ear and listened intently to the exchange between her grouchy teacher and the mysterious handsome stranger in the suit. She heard a briefcase hit the table.

Tick, tick... tick, tick, tick... tick... tick, tick, tick, tick. Click... Click. The briefcase opened.

"As discussed, yes, I have the arranged compensation," replied the young man, his tone suddenly very businesslike and neutral.

"Well good, Because I---" the teacher began, stepping toward the briefcase.

Thump. Snap! Snap! The case closed, metal clasps locking into place.

"My employer would like to remind you that you will receive compensation when you deliver your end of the agreement," informed the man in the suit. The tone was still businesslike and neutral, but Dawn thought she heard the lace of smug enjoyment again icing the words. She definitely liked this guy. The way he so subtly and confidently made a fool of her oafish and lecherous teacher.

"Young man, you will watch how you conduct yourself around me," the teacher threatened in a huff. He stepped toward the stranger. Dawn's eyes widened. She felt a sudden involuntary fear for the young man's safety. Her teacher was large, a bully, and aggressively frightening.

The young man did not even flinch.  Oh, right. He's not a teenage girl, Dawn chided herself for the overly dramatic internal worry. It must be different when he doesn't outweigh you by 150lbs and tower over you by a head and shoulders!

"I assure you, my employer is keenly aware of 'who you are' Mr Carmichael. Now then, shall we---"

"Don't patronize me! I held up my end of the bargain. Do you know how much trouble I could get into if anyone discovered what I was providing?---" the teacher interrupted with a bout of indignation. "I got what 'your employer' was looking for. And it wasn't easy! I can't just go waltzing around the school with those files. I hid them here in the Study Hall. They are in the book stacks. Now then, if we can just get to---"

The door to the Study Hall suddenly opened.

"Mr Carmichael! I have been looking for you. What are you doing in--- Oh! I didn't realize--- Who...?" a woman's voice asked as she barged into the room, full of surprise and a growing list of questions.

"Head Mistress O'Neil! I was just--- Yes! Of course! I had forgotten! I was--- My! Where are my manners? This is my nephew... Bryce. He--- is--- he was just stopping by to--- he is a law student at the nearby University. Anyways, it doesn't matter. What was it you needed me for again?" Mr Carmichael blustered through his lie filled bluff, winded and flustered. And this time it wasn't just from all the extra weight he carried.

"Nephew? Oh! I didn't know you had a---" the Head Mistress asked bewildered, then remembered her manners and extended her hand to shake the young man's hand politely. The man in the suit extended his hand, but before they could make contact, Mr Carmichael stepped between them.

"Surely I must have. But it is nothing to apologize for. You can't be expected to remember the mundane details of everyone's personal lives. After all, Miss O'Neil, not when you are the Head Mistress of the esteemed Ivy Ridge Academy For Girls."

The young man in the suit seemed about to say something when Mr Carmichel placed a hand on his back. "I'm sorry Bryce, my dear boy. I forgot about my meeting with the Head Mistress. We will have to continue our--- you'll just have to visit me again soon. Tell your... father I will make arrangements to--- I mean, good luck with your studies this semester in Law School. Perhaps we can grab lunch and catch up at a less intrusive--- at a time where we can exchange--- a time that is financially agreeable to--- oh my, I seem to be at a loss for words. Great to see you, Bryce. Let me see you out!" Mr Carmichael guided the young man out with a non-negotiating hand on his back.

Dawn could see the young mystery man's feet dressed in nice expensive looking shoes shuffling resistantly on the floor tiles, but could do little else in the unexpected presence of the Head Mistress. His previous cool businesslike demeanor had devolved into a confused, flustered, perplexed, but ultimately defeated pall.

The door to the Study Hall banged shut. The silhouettes of the three adults blurry through the frosted glass on the window, wobbled out of sight, fading with the echoes of their shoes in the hallway. And just like that, once again, Dawn Meadows found herself all alone in the Study Hall.