The Gemini

The knock came softly.

I looked up from my desk, already knowing who it would be. Ms. Atwell, one of the admin assistants, stood just inside my office door with a clipboard tucked against her chest and a curious look she didn’t bother hiding.

“She’s here,” she said lightly, then stepped aside.

Mia walked in with the calm assurance of someone who didn’t get called into unexpected meetings. Her uniform, which consisted of a pleated black and blue skirt just above her knees, and a crisp blouse resting neatly over her slender frame, was all in perfect order. Auburn bangs neatly framed her face, and her glasses sat low on her nose, having slipped down. A common occurrence she was used to I’m sure, from so many years with her nose buried in books. She didn’t smile, but there was a trace of amusement in her eyes.

“Ms. Delaney,” I said, standing as she entered. I gestured toward the seat opposite my desk. “Thanks for coming.”

“I didn’t realize I had a choice,” she replied, settling into the chair.

Ms. Atwell lingered longer than I’d have liked at the threshold, glancing between us. It wasn’t until I turned and gave her a look as though asking why she was still there, that she turned and left.

I waited a few seconds before moving to gently close the door behind her. This wasn’t a conversation to be overheard in the hallway. I returned to my chair, keeping a measured expression.

“I know I don’t usually close the door when we meet,” I said, watching her expression. “But given the nature of what we need to discuss today regarding rumor and questions about your reputation, I thought it was only fair to offer you a bit of privacy.”

She tilted her head. “Rumors? Reputation? So, the usual character **** from other valedictorian candidates?”

I didn’t smile. “Mia, you’ve always been one of the most accomplished students here – debate team, drama, top of your class. You know I’m not here to police your life. But when there are repeated concerns about behavior–“

“Behavior,” she repeated questioningly, as if questioning the word.

“Well… yes, behavior that’s being gossiped about,” I said, already uncomfortable with the topic at hand. “And about how that behavior reflects on you, and by extension, the school,” I continued, “I have to step in. Especially given who your father is.”

Her lips twitched. “There it is.”

I leaned forward slightly, lowering my voice. “You know I’m required to report certain things to him. If I believe there’s something going on that could compromise your academic standing or the school’s reputation, I have an obligation to you, and to him.”

“Yeah, like you’d tell him,” she said dismissively. “Right.”

“Have you talked to your father recently?” I asked.

“Last night,” she said breezily. “He was reviewing scholarship applications and griping about an applicant’s grammar. Why?”

“Because if even half of what I’ve been hearing is true, he’d be mortified.”

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