point.
I don’t know how or when the change occurred, but staring
back at me is not the me I picture in my head. Instead, I have been
replaced with one of those poor, unsuspecting women pulled out of the crowd at the Today show for a miracle makeover.
Over the winter, my hair has grown very long, and it’s now
too heavy around my face. And though technically the color fits somewhere on
the blond spectrum, my mousy natural-colored roots are showing themselves in a
thick racing stripe down the center of my head. My blue eyes lack spark. Worst
of all, the skin around them seems swollen and slightly black-and-blue. And
forget my forehead. All those creases and lines. Put it all together and I
look…what is the right word? Haggard? Harried? Haggard and harried?
Oh hell, who am I kidding? That assessment is kind. In
truth, I look like a woman who has just had her mug shot taken and is next in
line for fingerprinting: Dazed.
“Mrs. Worthing. What are you doing here?” The monotone of
Martha’s voice simultaneously shakes me from my reverie and scares the shit out
of me. “Is that a cigarette in your hand?”
“Jeez, Martha!” I clutch my chest. “You trying to give me
a heart attack?” I realize my error as soon as the words escape my lips. I
mean, not that Martha necessarily caused our assistant principal’s heart
attack last month, but still. Faux pas extraordinaire. Her always brown-lipsticked
mouth is set in a straight, tight line. I smile wide enough for both of us. “I
mean, hey there!”
She points to my right hand. “Explain.”
There are benefits to being on jury duty. Not having to
teach anyone anything for several consecutive days is one of them. Knowing that
the world is bigger than the one in which your principal reigns supreme is
another. Which is why, in the bathroom with the fake cigarette, I decide to
have a little fun with her and simultaneously throw a kid under the bus.
I take a deep breath and gather my courage.
“Oh, Martha. I’m so glad you are here. A little miscreant
was pretending to smoke this candy cigarette when I walked in to use the
facilities a moment ago. I, of course, immediately confiscated it, and sent her
right to the principal’s office. You probably passed her in the halls just
now.”
“Really?” Martha asks, clearly intrigued but not yet quite
believing me.
“Abso-lutely.” I begin wild gesticulations to add
authentication to my tale. “She’s, like, yea high and she has, like,
brownish-blackish-blondish hair that’s not too long or short and is basically
straight when it isn’t curly. I think you know her. Her mom’s on the board of ed,
maybe?”
“Lucy Williams?” She is really getting into it now, going
through her mental Rolodex of faces. “Fourth grade?”
“Perhaps. Could have been third or fifth, though. Here.
Evidence.” I put the remainder of the slightly damp confection in her hand.
“But now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to run…I have a parent meeting in five,”
I add, pushing open the bathroom door.
“But wait! Mrs.…Lauren. Are you back from jury duty?”
“Nope…case starts tomorrow. Could be a really long trial. Don’t you worry, though; I’ll call the sub service. Unless you want to
continue filling in?”
Martha’s brain is still catching up, and I’m not about to
let it finish processing.
“Nope? Then, see ya!”
And with that, I am off across the quad and through the
double doors of the middle school building.
“That is hi-lari-ous!” Kat declares from her bar stool
perch. She swivels around a few times, beer glass in hand. “Jim, isn’t that
hi-lari-ous?”
“Yup,” Jim concurs, handing each of us another Jell-O
shot. Kat takes one, but I decline.
“To the di ministration!” Kat toasts, holding the
small paper cup high over her head before sucking the contents out in one giant
slurp.
“You sure?” Jim asks me, still holding the extra Jell-O
shot. The three of us were hired by the Hadley School
I don’t know how or when the change occurred, but staring
back at me is not the me I picture in my head. Instead, I have been
replaced with one of those poor, unsuspecting women pulled out of the crowd at the Today show for a miracle makeover.
Over the winter, my hair has grown very long, and it’s now
too heavy around my face. And though technically the color fits somewhere on
the blond spectrum, my mousy natural-colored roots are showing themselves in a
thick racing stripe down the center of my head. My blue eyes lack spark. Worst
of all, the skin around them seems swollen and slightly black-and-blue. And
forget my forehead. All those creases and lines. Put it all together and I
look…what is the right word? Haggard? Harried? Haggard and harried?
Oh hell, who am I kidding? That assessment is kind. In
truth, I look like a woman who has just had her mug shot taken and is next in
line for fingerprinting: Dazed.
“Mrs. Worthing. What are you doing here?” The monotone of
Martha’s voice simultaneously shakes me from my reverie and scares the shit out
of me. “Is that a cigarette in your hand?”
“Jeez, Martha!” I clutch my chest. “You trying to give me
a heart attack?” I realize my error as soon as the words escape my lips. I
mean, not that Martha necessarily caused our assistant principal’s heart
attack last month, but still. Faux pas extraordinaire. Her always brown-lipsticked
mouth is set in a straight, tight line. I smile wide enough for both of us. “I
mean, hey there!”
She points to my right hand. “Explain.”
There are benefits to being on jury duty. Not having to
teach anyone anything for several consecutive days is one of them. Knowing that
the world is bigger than the one in which your principal reigns supreme is
another. Which is why, in the bathroom with the fake cigarette, I decide to
have a little fun with her and simultaneously throw a kid under the bus.
I take a deep breath and gather my courage.
“Oh, Martha. I’m so glad you are here. A little miscreant
was pretending to smoke this candy cigarette when I walked in to use the
facilities a moment ago. I, of course, immediately confiscated it, and sent her
right to the principal’s office. You probably passed her in the halls just
now.”
“Really?” Martha asks, clearly intrigued but not yet quite
believing me.
“Abso-lutely.” I begin wild gesticulations to add
authentication to my tale. “She’s, like, yea high and she has, like,
brownish-blackish-blondish hair that’s not too long or short and is basically
straight when it isn’t curly. I think you know her. Her mom’s on the board of ed,
maybe?”
“Lucy Williams?” She is really getting into it now, going
through her mental Rolodex of faces. “Fourth grade?”
“Perhaps. Could have been third or fifth, though. Here.
Evidence.” I put the remainder of the slightly damp confection in her hand.
“But now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to run…I have a parent meeting in five,”
I add, pushing open the bathroom door.
“But wait! Mrs.…Lauren. Are you back from jury duty?”
“Nope…case starts tomorrow. Could be a really long trial. Don’t you worry, though; I’ll call the sub service. Unless you want to
continue filling in?”
Martha’s brain is still catching up, and I’m not about to
let it finish processing.
“Nope? Then, see ya!”
And with that, I am off across the quad and through the
double doors of the middle school building.
“That is hi-lari-ous!” Kat declares from her bar stool
perch. She swivels around a few times, beer glass in hand. “Jim, isn’t that
hi-lari-ous?”
“Yup,” Jim concurs, handing each of us another Jell-O
shot. Kat takes one, but I decline.
“To the di ministration!” Kat toasts, holding the
small paper cup high over her head before sucking the contents out in one giant
slurp.
“You sure?” Jim asks me, still holding the extra Jell-O
shot. The three of us were hired by the Hadley School
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