Inveigle

Chapter Twenty-Six: Where Morale is High

I went to Parks Middle School two days later. Mr. Spence, the teacher I had spoken with, had knocked on Aunt Sarah Gene's door after our sidewalk meeting, saying many of the teachers at his school wanted to meet with me.

I had passed on offers for a ride, needing the walk to clear my head. Boss and I had the outline of a plan, if only we could find out where they took Sam. I knew I would have to serve as the distraction. Logos had pointed out that the only chance we had was to offer Persim what she wanted. Me. Meanwhile, Boss would lead a crew in through a back entrance and extract Sam. There were a multitude of unfinished tendrils in this plan that kept creeping into my thoughts, as well as doubts that I could do anything for this school community. I wore my only nice outfit again and borrowed a jacket from Aunt Sarah Gene. It had to of been thirty years old given that it was about 10 sizes too small for her now, but it looked well kept and had a hood. I kept the hood up for the entire walk, we were pretty sure Persim didn't know where I was...yet.

What could I possibly accomplish for this school?

You have me, honey. Put me in a room with those students. I'll have them loving life.

Pathos was excellent at quelling any nerve wracking thoughts I had along the way. The extra time the walk took was well served, by the time I turned onto the school's street I had a renewed sense of confidence. I knew the students and staff needed someone to put their hope into.

The front of the school was not exactly the welcome wagon. "...Better rated schools, where morale is high," played through my mind over and over again. The front door was locked, and a red,faded piece of construction paper read, "Ring bell for office," in Sharpie. I rang the yellowed doorbell and waited in an awkward silence for a few minutes.

A stout looking woman turned the corner and waddled her way towards me. She opened the door and smiled, "Tell Mrs. Flick at the front desk who you are taking home."

"Oh, no. I'm not a parent. I spoke with Mr. Spence. He said this was his planning period."

"Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh," the woman tutted. "He did mention that. Have a seat, and I'll call his room."

She opened the door wider and gestured to a row of well worn chairs. They were mismatched colors that I'm sure were very pretty 50 years ago. I chose a faded burnt orange chair, nestled between two green ones and set my hands on the wooden arms. The woman waddled back around the corner she came from. A few minutes later Mr. Spence appeared, walking briskly from the opposite side of the hall Ms. Waddle had left from.

He set a quick pace as we walked to his classroom. Small posters were haphazardly hung from the walls, telling students that they could come talk to the counselor at any time.

Mr. Spence's classroom walls matched the white bricks of the hallways. The desks were mismatched colors like those of the chairs in the front, and the windows had metal grates covering them from the outside. Over the brick were corny math posters: Einstein with his tongue out, Math is cool, and Never Argue with a 90 degree angle, it's always right. There were anchor charts describing exponents, functions, and linear equations in detail. There were nine teachers sitting around when I entered, and all eyes turned toward me.

I could feel Logos and Pathos' abilities swelling up inside me. Looking into their desolate faces I knew more of Pathos was needed than Logos. I felt her warmth spread throughout my body, warming my fingertips and toes.

Then the phone rang.

"Oh, excuse me," Mr. Spence said, rushing across the room to his desk.

He covered the receiver, "Ms. Carpenter, it's for you." He held the to phone out to me.