The Third Meeting

Despite the tension created by Margot's threat, you feel surprisingly optimistic as you step out into the sunshine. You tell yourself that you've conquered problems before, and while there may be difficulties ahead, you will work your ass off to survive whatever lies ahead.

As you walk towards the main building you see activity happening: girls chatting in groups, a jogger threading through the paths, and a few girls reading on the lawn. You're once again conscious of being watched, seeing what you imagine to be secretive, devilish grins on some faces. As you return their gazes, you wonder how many of them were calculating, shrewd and deceitful princesses.

Entering the library, you take a seat and listen to a reprise of what you've already heard twice. It's tedious, the third time through, but you notice that the students in this group pay close attention. Perhaps it's because word of the Dean's behaviour has gone around the campus, perhaps its because this group are first year and new to the school, but there is no giggling and far less eye rolling than at the morning meetings. You see a few parents glancing your way, and your paranoia flares, wondering if Margot has been gossiping already.

The meeting ends and the students file out, followed by most of the teachers. You sit quietly, enjoying the quiet when a woman's voice calls your name.

"Yes?" you reply, turning to see a woman in her thirties or early forties. You take in her short auburn hair masking the left side of her forehead; her light green eyes half hidden behind red framed, faintly pink oval glasses; full lips glistening with rosy pink lipstick. Her buttoned black jacket was decorated with thin, white lines, layered over a buttoned white shirt; a bias cut black-and-white skirt showed her well formed legs encased in black stockings and her heels of her red pumps clacked on the hard floor.

"How did you enjoy the third rerun of the welcome ceremony?" she smiled warmly. You mutter something about it being a good idea to give students a clear idea of the rules and see her smile broaden.

"Well, that would be a very conservative response, sir," she mused. "Perhaps you'd care to share your thoughts of our institution over coffee this evening? We could split the cost of a taxi to town." You smile vaguely, wondering why her voice has an odd sense of familiarity.

"Perhaps before we go further, I should know your name. You have me at a disadvantage."

"Yes, of course. Very rude of me. I'm Rachel Franklin. I teach Theatre, and the Performing arts." She actually replied while stepping back slightly, doing a little curtsy before smirking slightly and extending her manicured, red-nailed hand. "A pleasure."

"Nice to meet you," you reply, taking her hand to shake it. "I'm Mason Carter, but I suspect you already know that."

"I do. Now, would you still like to have coffee with me whilst we... pick each other's brains?" she persists.