Chapter Text
The new principal at the high school was, according to her social media accounts, a practicing witch. When the all-staff listserv received the email that announced her name, it was inevitable that people would google her; it was inevitable that word would spread like wildfire in the parched California hills of the previous November.
Minutes after the email appeared in their inboxes, just after eight in the morning, Parker sent Samira a list of links. When Samira opened the woman’s Facebook page on her phone, she had the sudden urge to dig her fingers through her temples and deep into her hippocampus, wiping this particular bit of information from her consciousness. Myrna White, it said at the top of the page. Then, in the space meant to share a profession: Wiccan spiritual guide.
Samira wondered if there was a difference between Wiccan and witch. She wondered if it even mattered. She missed her life three minutes ago, where she lived in blissful ignorance of her new boss, and closed the app.
She walked barefoot into her small kitchen, light filtering in through the even smaller window, and began to make her coffee on autopilot, stifling a yawn behind the back of her hand. An orange cat crept in from the living room, winding himself around Samira’s ankles as she narrowly avoided tripping over him. She had adopted Maslow during the third year of her PhD program when the loneliness and isolation felt like the heavy San Francisco fog, never once dissipating until she had another beating heart in her apartment.
Her cellphone started to ring on the counter, and Samira wasn’t surprised to see Parker’s name pop up on the caller ID, nor when Parker launched into conversation without as much as a hello.
“What kind of person doesn’t private their socials before they start a job?” Even over the slight crackle of the phone, Parker’s exasperation was as clear as if she was standing right next to Samira. “Especially when she works in education, Sam. I mean – Jesus Christ, you can find her on Tumblr.”
“Are you really spending your last gasp of summer vacation cyber-stalking our new boss? Did you have to redownload the Tumblr app?” Samira reached over to her microwave and picked up one of the many claw clips she had scattered around the apartment, switching Parker to speakerphone as she twisted her hair back.
“Have you even thought about the students’ reaction when they find this stuff?” Parker asked. “They will, and they’re going to be unbearable. I can’t teach under these conditions. By the way, I deleted my entire Tumblr account this morning, because facing a biology class full of fifteen-year-olds who’ve read a blog I had when I was nineteen is my literal worst nightmare.” Parker paused. “Do witches even believe in science?” she asked, vaguely horrified.
Samira laughed. “She’s in charge of a STEM magnet school now, so I would hope so. I’m sure she’ll be fine. We shouldn’t judge yet, we won’t meet her until Wednesday.
“Charles Pittman High School,” Parker said, like she was announcing a circus act. “Where reputations go to die.”
“You’re going to jinx us,” Samira said. Her coffee was ready, and she grabbed an empty mug from the counter, double-checking to make sure it wasn’t dirty. “Even if she actually thinks she’s a witch, maybe it’ll offer a valuable… alternative perspective.”
“You’re just saying words right now that don’t actually mean anything as an attempt to placate me. By all means, practice developing empathy with your students, but mine are going to be learning cell function.”
Samira hummed because Parker wasn’t wrong , but Samira was loath to admit it. “Well, we don’t have to worry about it just yet. Do you want to come over for dinner tonight? I was thinking of making paella.”
“For paella? Always. I’ll bring the sangria.” Then Parker ended the call as abruptly as she had started it, without so much as a goodbye.
In the new quiet, Samira misted the succulents on the windowsill and opened a can of wet food for Maslow. He ran to his puzzle feeder, and Samira put a slice of bread in her toaster, pulling her shoulders back and running through her mental list for the day. She had chores to do and now that the start of school was just over a week away, supplies to buy. At least she could look forward to spending the evening with a friend.
They first met the new principal during a staff meeting the Friday before the first day of school. Samira had stopped by Parker’s apartment on the way to pick her up, a habit they renewed every school year. “Your hair’s different today,” Samira said as Parker climbed into the passenger’s side seat. Parker’s dreadlocks fell down her shoulders instead of being pulled back into their usual bun at the crown of her head.
“Figured I’d conceal the undercut until I get a better read on the new boss. Who knows what this witch is like, and I’m already being forced into business casual,” Parker said. She flipped down the passenger side visor to examine her reflection.
“It feels derogatory to keep calling her a witch.” Samira navigated through the parking lot and found a spot close to her classroom block.
“What else are we supposed to say, it’s a self-identifier!” Parker exclaimed. Samira shrugged. She had the trunk of her car piled high with school supplies and decorations, planning to stay on campus after the staff meeting, take advantage of Parker's presence, and get her classroom in order. Her usual buzz of anticipation was dulled by a sense of nervousness, but when Parker began walking to the administration building, Samira followed.
The room, drop ceilinged and linoleum floored, was half-filled with co-workers, some of whom had become sort-of friends over the last couple of years, and some of whom Samira still barely knew. Her stomach settled as she looked over the familiar faces. She scanned the people present like she was taking attendance of her students instead of her colleagues, then she scanned them again.
“Parker, where are Heather and Robby?” she asked. Parker looked up so quickly Samira was surprised she didn't hear her neck crack. Parker's eyes followed the same path as Samira’s had, squinting like it would improve her vision.
“Oh shit,” Parker said. “If they quit, I’m quitting right here, right now.”
“You can’t quit. You’re not allowed to leave me alone,” Samira said. “Maybe there’s a good explanation. Maybe they’re sick.” Parker shot her a disbelieving look.
“When has Robby ever called out of work because he was sick?”
Samira thought back. “I’m pretty sure he got the flu last year?”
“Yeah, and the only reason he wasn’t here was because Heather had to drag him to the ER to replenish his electrolytes,” Parker said. She crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall. “God, I am not looking forward to this year.”
Someone had ordered pizza and sliced two sixteen inch pies into twenty-four slices. Samira was a little impressed as she extracted a single floppy sliver and transferred it to a paper plate. She edged closer to Parker, who was drumming her fingers against her own palm.
“Unclench your jaw,” Samira said in an undertone. “You look like you’re in pain.”
“I am in pain. I could be watching bad reality TV in my pajamas right now. And where the hell’s the new boss?” Parker asked.
“I overheard Dana telling someone she’s on her way,” Samira said, nodding to their assistant vice principal standing in the corner and speaking to someone mostly hidden behind other bodies. “At least we’re getting paid.”
“All hail the teachers’ union,” Parker muttered. “The proverbial fascia between admin and us lowly instructors.”
“Don’t insult all of admin. We love Dana. We respect Dana,” Samira said.
“We have a healthy amount of fear for Dana,” Parker added. “I wonder if she knows where Heather and Robby are.”
“Of course she does, Dana knows everything,” Samira said. “She just won’t share it with us.”
Just as Parker was about to respond, the staff room door swung open, and in walked a small woman with teased dishwater blonde hair, heavy makeup, and a sequined double-breasted jacket. Parker groaned.
Dana turned away from whoever she’d been talking to, and raised her voice so she could be heard over the buzzing of others, even as they promptly fell silent.
“Okay, everyone, listen up! Welcome back to the new school year. I am pleased to introduce Myrna White, Pittman’s new principal. Let’s give her a warm welcome.” Dana’s smile looked more like a grimace as Myra waved and then walked up to the front of the room, surveying the gaggle of people.
“Good morning, everyone! I am delighted to have the privilege of working with you at Pittman High School. My tarot reading this morning was especially positive, so I am feeling grateful for our futures together. I hope that we can nurture our students’ spirits into a supportive realm where they can rise above the usual constraints of traditional education and broaden their souls.” Myrna looked around the room and smiled, evidently done with her speech.
“Oh, she is crazy.” Parker whispered. They were at the very back of the room, and although Samira could hear other murmurings erupting around them, she was glad for the relative privacy. “I never thought there would be a day when I’d miss Gloria. What kind of bribe did this woman give the school board to convince them to hire her?”
Samira rubbed her temples as she saw Frank Langdon mutter something to Cassie McKay across the room. “I’m trying to come to terms that we could be working under her for several years.”
“ Shit ,” Parker said with feeling. “Hey, do you have the power to put people on 5150s?”
“I’m an instructor and a researcher, not a clinician or – I don’t know, a psychiatrist – so, no,” Samira said.
“Can you put in a good word with a psychiatrist anyway when I have to take a seventy-two hour leave of absence, in the event that Myrna White sneaks potions or crystals in my room? I’d make no promises for my actions.”
“Shh, Dana’s coming back up.” Samira watched Dana Evans fill Myrna White’s empty spot.
“Before I set you all loose, we also have a few announcements on staffing changes,” Dana said. Samira’s spine straightened. “Heather Collins and Michael Robinavitch are both taking sabbaticals this year. I will be stepping up as acting vice principal in Robby’s place, and Dr. Jack Abbot will be the interim Anatomy and Physiology teacher for Heather.”
“Who?” Parker asked. Samira shook her head, but then she noticed an unfamiliar middle aged man standing a few steps behind Dana. He had salt and pepper curls and wore a stern, stand-offish expression. Immediately, Samira found herself put off by his dourness.
“Dr. Abbot comes to us from a career as an emergency medicine physician, but I hope you welcome him warmly to his year at Pittman High as he joins us in the education field.” Dana then rattled off the names and subjects of everyone in the room for Jack Abbot's benefit. Samira smiled politely when she heard “Samira Mohan, psychology,” and Dr. Jack Abbot held her gaze for a beat before he switched his attention to Parker as she was introduced as one of the biology teachers.
When the process was over, Samira attempted to make a hasty exit, eager to start settling in with some peace and quiet. She hadn’t even touched the door handle when she was interrupted.
“Dr. Mohan, can you please come over here for a minute?” Samira had not been addressed as a doctor since her hooding ceremony, and it took her a couple of seconds to realize someone was speaking to her.
She turned to see Jack Abbot staring at her, shifting more of his weight onto one leg and clutching the strap of a canvas backpack, which hung heavy off of one shoulder.
“You can call me Samira. Or Ms. Mohan, when we’re around students,” she said. Abbot shook his head, frowning.
“I think it’s important to recognize education. You received a doctorate, therefore you are a doctor. PhDs were doctors before MD programs co-opted the title,” he said. Samira knew that. She hadn’t been accused of pedantry for most of her academic career for nothing, but she had no idea where he could have heard about her degree.
Samira gave him a tight smile, thinking longingly of the itemized, color-coded list of tasks waiting for her on her desk. She could handle this man.
“I — thank you, Dr. Abbot?” It left her mouth as more of a question than a sentence. “What can I do for you?”
“We’re neighbors,” he said. “I was hoping you could show me the way.” Samira nodded, and jerked her head silently to their left. Behind Jack, Parker mouthed, I’ll see you after . So Samira walked out the door with Jack Abbot following, falling into step beside her.
“Are you new to the area?” Samira asked.
“Not really. I lived in Pennsylvania before here,” he said. Samira had never been good at small talk, so when he didn’t elaborate, she let them fall into silence. Samira only spoke a couple of times to point out buildings before they stopped in front of the one they were going to share. Both classrooms were on the first floor. Abbot rummaged through one of his pants pockets before he extracted a key. He unlocked the door to his new classroom and flicked on the lights.
Samira hovered for a moment by the threshold. Now that they were alone, she couldn’t help but notice how weary Abbot looked in the harsh fluorescent lighting. She opened her mouth to ask him if he was feeling all right, but he built her to first words.
“I’m fine now, Dr. Mohan. No need to hover. I’ll see you next week,” Abbot said, glancing her way as he walked into the classroom and placed his backpack on the teacher’s desk. It was such a direct dismissal that Samira blinked before she backed out of his office door.
“See you next week, Dr. Abbot.” She closed his door without waiting for a response, standing still for a moment before pivoting left and unlocking her own classroom door. The boxes were still piled high in the corner, but Samira didn’t feel like unpacking now. She surveyed the blank walls and bare surfaces. She could faintly hear Abbot moving around next door as a stone settled itself in her stomach.