Page 34 of Antagonist

Fletcher:Hey, boo. I hope you’re coming.

Harrison:Yes, I am attending the meeting.

I smile to myself as I see the bubbles showing he’s typing a reply appear and disappear.

Fletcher:Oh, pookie…you kill me. On a serious note, I heard the pearl-clutchers are planning to invade the meeting.

Harrison:I’ll be there.

The school parking lot is busier than I expect, considering the time. It takes me a while to find a parking spot, so when I do, I’m already late for the meeting.

I don’t know why, but I hate the thought of being late. It’s not like I’m about to close an important deal to gain a client.

“Mr. Davis.”

I take a moment to recognize the voice, but as soon as I turn around, I see the unmistakable overdone face of that woman who looked at Fletcher as though he was nothing but old gum on the bottom of her expensive shoe.

I didn’t like it then, and I don’t like it now.

For the second time in less than an hour, I force myself to smile.

“Mrs…I’m sorry, your name escapes me.”

“Karina Brunel,” she says, her mask slipping a little and showing she’s not happy that I don’t remember her. “President of the PTO.”

Christ, what’s with these people thinking their titles or names make them any better than anyone else?

“I’m late for a meeting, Mrs. Brunel,” I say, resuming my pace to Ellis’s classroom.

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you, Mr. Davis. I spoke to Principal Lewis earlier in the week, and she seems to be on board with my suggestion.”

“And what might that be?” I ask, glancing at my watch. Fletcher is going to think I’m not coming.

“Since it seems that there are two vastly different concepts for the Spring Fair, I proposed a vote to pick one. Of course, I would very much like to have you on our side.”

It’s been a busy day, and I’m reaching the end of my patience.

“Mrs. Brunel, I don’t pick sides. I support the event that represents the school, the children, and their parents in the best way possible. I’m not here to score points. My priority is ensuring that everyone has fun and feels represented.”

She takes a step back. “Of course, Mr. Davis. That is precisely what I’m proposing. We all know how underrepresented women are in society. As the parent of a future young lady, I’m sure you can appreciate the opportunities that being part of a community of peers can present to her. This is what we want to bring to the Spring Fair. The chance for girls in this town to have opportunities they would otherwise not have.”

I take a step toward her. My bigger frame is intimidating, but my message will be delivered through words.

“Mrs. Brunel, if I truly believed you were campaigning for the equal rights of women, I’d be behind you. Except you’re not. You’re campaigning for the rights of those equal to you and setting women’s rights back decades.” She frowns and opens her mouth as if wanting to argue, but I stop her. “My daughter will create her own opportunities because she’s being taught that her education is important. She will question how things are done because she won’t stand for injustice and unfairness. No child should have opportunities simply by belonging to certain clubs or when their parents hold certain jobs. Most of all, these children are elementary age. The fair is meant to be fun, not a point-scoring exercise for misguided parents.”

I want to be done with her, but today’s frustration is spilling over, and I don’t know if I can stop myself.

When I think she’s going to get her claws out and scratch my face, her eyes land on something behind me and she turns around, walking right out of the school building.

I curl my fists and take a deep breath. When something touches my arm, I pull back and turn around. Fletcher is right behind me.

His hair is in a messy bun and his blue eyes are burning with fire.

He takes my hand and pulls me down the hall until we reach a door. Opening it, he pulls me inside.

Before I can gather my surroundings and ask why it’s so dark, Fletcher pushes me back against the closed door and his mouth is on mine.

I don’t have time to breathe or think. In fact, my brain has lost all sense of direction or identity. Every single cell in my body is on fire.