Dark Hedges

The Stag State of Mind

The office was cold and mechanic. The fireplace burnt and cracked, yet the room remained as frosty as ever. Outside, the rain poured still, making this August afternoon particularly dreadful. Walter Harlan took a quick look out the window and saw his brand new Mercedes parked in its usual spot. Ever since he bought it, he found himself turning to see it, over and over again. This, after all, was a hard job, and he needed constant reminders of why it was all worth it, particularly on the long, stressful days.

This was one of those.

Sitting in his comfortable green velvet chair, Walter took a deep breath and inspected the room in front of him. Five years he had acted as Rector of Royalwood School, yet this office stayed as alien and distant as the first day he set foot on it. All the fine, luxurious furniture that decorated the space, all the delicate, ancient paintings that hung from the walls and all the wise, rare books that filled the shelves where merely reminders that, despite this being his office, he was still a foreigner in it.

Walter took another sip from his cup of tea and leaned back on the chair. His eyes involuntarily travelled to the clock on his wall. Four thirty. One and a half hours until he could leave this place. As he took one last sip of tea, he pondered how his life ended up in here. In high school, all he ever wanted was to leave and never go back.

Who would've thought he'd end up working in a high school, much less this one?

He gritted his teeth and an ironic smile drew on his face. Life is funny, he thought to himself. A knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Come in," he said, straightening.

Good, old Marjorie let herself in. "Rector, your four thirty is here."

"Yes of course. Send him in, will you, Marjorie, dear."

The old secretary nodded and stepped back, leaving the door open. A couple of seconds later, a young teenage boy came into the room, looking even more bored than Walter. The Rector sighed deeply and struggled not to roll his eyes.

Another one of those, he thought to himself as the boy sat across the desk.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Santoyo," Walter said, attempting, and surely failing, to pronounce that last name accurately.

The young man replied in a rather good English accent. "Afternoon, Rector."

Walter smiled and raised his eyebrows. "You speak English quite well. If I didn't know, I never would've guessed you're not from around here."

"Yes, I've been told that, in order to fit in this school, I must suppress every inch of my foreign nature. You know, so as not to scandalize the locals."

The boy spoke with barely hidden contempt and Walter remained silent for a few seconds, trying to gather his ideas, before continuing.

"I never meant to suggest anything of the sort, Mr. Santoyo. If my comments came off as insensitive, then do apologize me. And what you say is rather alarming, for I, or anyone else in this institution for that matter, would never want you to hide or feel ashamed of your roots, race or nationality. Your presence here is cause for pride and celebration."

The boy smirked, his eyes deeply uninterested in the conversation. "Yes, I imagine. The token latino guy. Has a real ring to it."

Walter clenched his hands. The heat rose to his face and all trace of patience disappeared from his voice. "Now, Mr. Santoyo..."

The boy raised his hand, interrupting him. "Mr. Harlan, don't take me seriously. I'm kidding. That's just me. I like to tease."

Their gazes met and Walter immediately knew the boy was lying. His previous statements came from the heart and he meant both of them. However, he was smart enough not to engage in a discussion with the Rector of his new high school, something Walter both resented and admired.