She certainly does

Diana moves across the room to stand by your side. Despite your agreement yesterday, you're pleased by this visible signal of support. The faculty at this school do seem to respect this petite firebrand and when she raises her hand for silence the room quickly comes under her spell.

"I was just about to remind you of what Dean Hawkfeather just said." Diana stares down the older members of the staff daring them to challenge her. "It is my hope that this never comes up, but if it does I do not intend to shirk my responsibility."

Diana's unwavering endorsement warms you in a way that you find hard to deny. It is not like the searing heat of seeing her in her revealing nightwear, but a warmer richer feeling that is much more dangerous. The senior members of this faculty must know their Headmistress did not approve of the paddle, her willingness to be there eased much of their concerns. Senator Williams may have underestimated the leadership qualities of this young head of the academy.

She holds up her slender hand stopping the potential debate before it even starts. "As I said before, this is not a matter for debate. If you feel strongly about this issue, again I advise you to join the committee charged with finding an alternative solution."

You watch the assembled staff carefully looking for any sign that there is going to be more debate, but one by one the women concede the issue. As much as you want to hug the school administrator in gratitude for her unlooked-for support, instead you give her the briefest of nods before returning to your perch in the corner of the room as she continues.

"On a different note," you know Diana well enough to by now to hear the slight edge to her tone, "I've learned that there is a Boston Globe reporter snooping around town trying to dig up some dirt after last year. I want to remind you that if this," for the first time in the entire meeting you see her check her notes, "Holly Piper wishes to speak with any of you, please refer her to me." A murmur goes through the hall, and you wonder just what happened here that would make a major paper like the Globe care enough to send a reporter out to the Academy.

The following discussion about the need to make sure the custodial staff is reminded to clean the white boards and vacuum every day and not just when they feel like it sounds like the refrain a long ballad, and you take the time to look over the staff again trying to decide if any of them are likely to give you a hard time. As you look over the group you notice Mr. Sharp doing something very similar. There is something familiar in the way his gaze settles on each faculty members one at a time before moving to the next, it reminds you of a wolf eyeing a herd of sheep deciding which of the bunch will make the tastiest treat. With a start you realize that this is the same man you saw in the parking lot earlier in the day watching the 2nd year students' arrival; you had mistaken him for a parent - you now know better.

Mr. Sharp's assessment of the women in the room, you quickly realize, is not at all sexual. He barely pauses when he takes in Monica's full figure, but his eyes linger for far longer on Miss Swanson's square shoulders and scowling demeanor. You are careful to make sure that Mr. Sharp doesn't see you sizing him up, the last thing you want is for any more of the teachers to think that you do not trust them.

"Ms. Naylor?" Donna Considine stands up near the end of the meeting. "I hate to be a broken record, but I see that the 'Student Auction' is on the calendar again." A muted groan goes up from several of the teachers although Mr. Sharp's eyes flicker in what might be an indication of interest.

"I know that what I'm about to say is old news to most of you here," Ms. Considine says. "But for the benefit of our new colleagues, and in the hope that some enlightenment on this issue has reached this august institution over the summer, I think that we are unwise to consider maintaining a tradition that is not only archaic but would be considered socially insensitive by the outside world."

There are a few mutters of agreement, mostly from the younger teachers, and an emphatic 'Damn straight' from the imposing Lorri McKay.

"This event raises a lot of money for charity, Ms. Considine, as you well know. Charities, I might add, that are near and dear to your heart as well." The voice belongs to the dignified Mrs. Somersby-Walker.

"Point taken," Ms. Considine nods. "I am fully in support of raising money for charity. I remain opposed to auctioning students off for menial tasks in a display that mirrors a **** auction. Given the current social climate, and the fact that a Boston Globe reporter is sniffing around, I strongly suggest that this is the time to end this archaic charade once and for all." She takes her seat to mutters of disagreement from some, and muffled applause from others.

"While your objection is valid, there is a problem with logistics if we were to cancel the event this year," Ms. Naylor says calmly, quelling the muttering. "Considerable time, effort and expense has already been dedicated to the event, which I remind you is only two weeks away. Our friends and partners in the local business community would be very displeased, and I don't think that this is the time to throw away their good will. As to the reporter, I spoke earlier that all communication is to go through me. I suspect that she will have grown bored and gone back to Boston within a few days anyway. As to the event itself, I am more than willing to discuss changes or alternatives for future years, but I'm afraid nothing can be done for this year."

Ms. Considine glowers and shakes her head in irritation, obviously giving up for the moment. Ms. McKay gives a snort of disgust before she speaks. "Tell you one thing. All those rich white girls can get themselves auctioned off if they want, but none of the scholarship students are going to participate. None of them. No black or brown girl is getting put on an auction block like she's a Mississippi nigger in 1857. Is that clear?" She glares around the room, daring anyone to disagree. Her gaze is met with nods of agreement or cowed looks of submission, but no one vocalizes opposition.

"Point noted," Ms. Naylor says calmly. "Now unless someone has other business to raise, the meeting is adjourned. I remind you to check your schedule for tomorrow's orientation meetings and the weekend duty requirements, as well as chaperone assignments for the annual Hamilton/Pink Rose social next weekend. Other than that, you're free to go."