Page 1 of Defined and Defiled (Ghostlight Falls)

Sentient (adj.)

sen·tient : capable of sensing or feeling : conscious of or responsive to the sensations of seeing, hearing, feeling, tasting, or smelling

It does not matter your age; no one likes being summoned to the principal's office.

“You are looking well today, Miss Sumner.”

I wonder if it’s worth it to remind Principal Bailey he should not remark on my appearance. ‘Looking well’ is an improvement over the ‘I bet the kids call you the hot teacher’ comment from last month. Never mind that it's not true. The kids are more likely to call me cheugy and millennial than hot, as it should be.

Bailey scratches at the side of his salt-n-pepper beard when I don’t give him anything in return. His office is colder than the rest of the school. He has his wall lined with his diplomas and awards, but most of his desk is filled with Wonder Bells paraphernalia. A bobblehead of Hunter Rodney nods back at me from his desk.

“Well, you see,”

He clears his throat.

“I’m afraid there have been a few complaints from some concerned parents saying you’ve been encouraging cheating in your class? That can’t be true.”

He makes a noise that’s between a chuckle and a cough before he gestures for me to deny the claims.

“What I specifically said was if you are going to cheat, do so in a clever way. I’d rather be outwitted than have another essay full of 'as an artificial intelligence, I cannot find blah blah blah' on my desk.”

Bailey stops Rodney from nodding along on his desk.

“Shirley, I’ll level with you.”

He spreads his hands out in front of him, the tan line from where his wedding ring used to live catches my attention for a moment.

“We like you here, but you need to be more careful with your wording. I don’t mind the students getting a little help now and then, wouldn’t you agree?”

For a moment, Bailey and I engage in the world's most pathetic staring contest. The other teachers have told me fables of the days when he used to care, but those must have ended well before I switched districts. If I had to guess, it likely ended around the time the wedding ring slipped off.

“If I am doing my job correctly, they should be able to learn the skills they need in my class to form their own work.”

I sigh.

“But I won’t be ‘encouraging’ cheating anymore.”

Bailey smiles at me and nods his head, clearly relieved I relented so quickly. Too bad for him, I’m not done.

“Moving along, I would like to know where we are with getting the new burners I requested?”

Bailey’s smile vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

“It looks like we're going to have to pass this time, Shirley. Maybe try again next year?”

“So we want the kids not to use their brains for English or science? Principal Bailey, with all due respect, I submitted a request for those burners months ago. The ones we have now, if they did not get shattered, they’re filled with this weird gelatinous goo.”

I still have nightmares about slime-ageddon. When a strange sticky substance ends up on the kids supplies, sometimes it’s better to not ask questions and just move all the glue to a locked cabinet.

“About that, the district thinks it may be best to steer the kids away from experimenting with, well, anything for right now.”

Something was always exploding or disappearing in this town, but that was not a good enough reason to discourage the children from learning.

“Besides, do they need to do the experiments themselves? I'm sure there are plenty of videos you could show your class instead.”

Providing that the WiFi didn't go down, again. Bailey is not subtle when he glances at his watch. We’ve had this discussion too many times for me not to know when he wants me to take my leave.

“Thank you for your time, Principal Bailey. I will see myself out.”

“For what it's worth, Shirley, your proposal was well-written. We just don't have the funds right now.”

Our new gymnasium implied otherwise. This was the latest in a long list of proposals I'd been shot down for and the sting never lessened.

Marge barely looks up when I walk out of Bailey's office. Her candy dish makes a scraping sound as she slides it over towards me.

“No luck?”

I sigh and pluck a peppermint from the top of her dish, pocketing it. Maybe if I eat stolen peppermints for dinner for the next month, I can afford to buy new burners for at least some of my kids.

“No. But I did get reprimanded for not accepting AI in my classroom.”

Marge has been a secretary since the school was first built. She was one of those ladies who always pushed off retirement. Even death could not get her to give up her pension. She choked on a hard candy and still showed up to work the next day.

“I happen to know there's a certain janitor that you could easily sweet-talk into letting you borrow his keys.”

“And why would I do that?”

The last thing I want is to talk to Mike more than I have to. He is an alright guy, but I hate the fact that he assumes being the only two young, single humans in the school means we should see each other after hours. There is no one I would want to see after-hours. I even go to the grocery store a town over just to try to avoid running into any of my kids, or God forbid, their parents.

“Because besides Bailey, he has the only copy of the basement keys.”

I straighten. The basement storage had been shut off in the nineties after some kids took The Craft a bit too seriously. I love that our school embraces diversity, but nothing is more frightening than preteens with a grimoire. Or teenagers in general. There’s a reason I stick to the elementary side of the school. It's been years since anyone has been down there, but there's still a possibility that something good has been tucked away, waiting for me.

“Principal Bailey said the basement is off limits.”

Marge finally looks up from whatever she'd been working on. While it's nice to have her full attention, staring at her straight on always makes me shiver. I wrap my cardigan tighter around me.

“And we always listen to Bailey.”

Marge's grin is wicked as she presses down on the intercom button.

“Mr. Fleming, you're needed in Ms. Sumner's class.”

Mike beats me to the classroom by ten minutes. The students are long gone for the day, and I should be too. Even without the meeting with Principal Bailey, I wouldn't have gotten out the doors before my contract time. There is always so much more to do. One planning period while the kids are doing their electives will never be enough to do it all.

One of my students, Sophie, has left her jacket behind again. I fold it in half, admiring the chunky horse embroidered on the sleeve. I make a mental note to send a message to her parents while I figure out what to say to Mike. Flirting on demand has never been my speed.

He gives in first, clearing his throat. Mike's outfit would be improved by a chunky horse jacket. His jeans are stained with the day's work. His polo collar is as askew as the lopsided grin he sends my way.

“You wanted to see me, Shirley?”

Mike's smile reminds me of my class when I tell them we'll be ending the day with Heads-Up Seven-Up instead of our wrap-up question. I take a deep breath and set Sophie's jacket down.

“I have my students doing a project on the history of the school. They're making a map, and I realized I've never seen the basement. It got me curious, and I wanted to check it out for myself.”

I should feel bad that lying comes so easily.

“The basement is strictly off-limits.”

I sit down at my desk and cross my legs. It's hard to miss the way Mike's eyes follow the slight movement of my skirt. He must be a starving man if the work-appropriate glimpse of my ankle brings that look in his eye. I'm not proud of my Victorian seduction technique, but who needs dignity when the state of education is at risk?

“I just figured it would be enlightening for me to see it firsthand. With you. I mean, of course, I'd want you there with me in case anything scary showed up.”

There is no way he is believing this. Mike would struggle to lift a pencil if he needed to. It is a scientific marvel that he manages to push a cart around every day, but still could lose at arm wrestling to any of my kids. Maybe even the fourth graders.

“Of course, I'll help you.”

He responds as his eyes stay glued on my ankle.

“But this has to stay between us. Bailey would have my head if he knew I let anyone down there.”

Well, that was embarrassingly easy.

“Okay, can we go now?”

Mike's eyes jump up to meet mine.

“Now?”

He draws out the word as if I’ll change my mind by the time he’s done.

I point to the sign I hung up for my students who love to turn in their assignments late, ‘Why put off tomorrow what you could do today?’

“Yeah. Of course, I just,”

Mike gulps and then puffs out his chest.

“In and out okay?”

I use my best smile on Mike as I grab my computer bag off my desk and jump down. The tips of his ears turn red, and for a second, I feel bad about using him like this.

“Maybe after this, you and I can go to Ratcliff's?”

He shuffles as he asks this, not meeting my eye.

Neither of us makes enough money for fine dining on a Tuesday. Besides, last I checked, Ratcliff's was on the whole other side of town. There's nothing on earth that could get me to drive to that side of the Wonder Hole on a school night.

So I lie.

“We'll see.”