The Gray House

“What you’ve just suggested is impossible, for several reasons. One,” she said, flashing a purplish-pink fingernail, “one, they need to gather and pack their belongings. It takes time. Two, parents! Even assuming that you do not reveal your secret date to us, you’ll have to tell them, right? Why do you assume they would keep silent? And when the day comes, some of them are going to show up early, the others late, and then there will be those who will simply inform us that they can’t quite make it on that day but anytime else is fine with them, and so on. Imagine the mess! More than a hundred students suddenly finding out they’re being taken away before having time to pack, say good-byes, put on makeup, write farewell notes, or whatever it is they would want to do . . . and add to that the parents—and us, also completely frantic, because . . . because we, imagine that, had no warning that the graduation was going to happen on that particular day! It’s ridiculous! Just four of them leaving today has reduced us to ruins, and now you’re expecting—”

“Please. Calm down,” Godmother interrupted Darling’s effusive oration. “This is not the end of the world, as you seem to be imagining. Especially if we can keep our wits about us and refrain from inflating the issue to apocalyptic proportions.”

“Right.” Shark, visibly downcast, perked up. “It’s not that bad. We went over the procedure in great detail, secured the assistance of certain third parties, and expect that with their help unrest can be prevented.”

“And who would those parties be?” Darling inquired.

No reply was forthcoming.

Godmother paced the room, arms folded firmly.

“I have an impression that you do not fully appreciate the need for maintaining complete confidentiality,” she chided, stopping by Homer, cowering in his chair. “Our pupils are nothing if not perceptive. The least misstep, from any one of us here, and the secret will be out. It is not even necessary to actually mention the date being shifted. An unusual burst of activity. A concerned expression. We could be sending signals and not realizing it. I am not talking about preparations.” Godmother glanced in Darling’s direction. “But if for no apparent reason our belongings started disappearing from the staff room, it would attract attention. I want to stress that it is possible to slip unintentionally, thus endangering the entire initiative.”

“I’m not arguing with you.” Homer waved his hand feebly, obviously imagining that the harangue had been directed at him. “You have been quite clear. I apologize for my outburst.”

Godmother was smiling, looking over his head at Ralph.

He smiled back.

I get it, Iron Lady. Running around in panic—that’s Homer. Darling has a packing fetish. Sheriff is a windbag. Raptor can betray himself by the triumphant look on his face. Sheep, by the long-suffering one. But what about me? What is it you suspect me of? Are you imagining I’m going to run straight to them and blabber about those precious plans of yours?

He caught that “yours” in his own thoughts, cringed, and half closed his eyes.

Is that really how I’ve put it? “Yours” and not “ours”? Maybe she really does have a point there, the old bitch.

“I am waiting for confirmation,” Shark demanded. “From everyone. No exceptions. Now. Because I do not intend to return to this after we vote.”

“I mean, I agree it’s a clever plan,” Homer said hurriedly. “Even though I am annoyed at the lack of trust the administration has demonstrated.”

Darling snorted, “Oh! Lack of trust. That’s what this is called now? Nice!”

“Do you agree or not?” Shark demanded.

“I agree.”

“I don’t,” Sheriff grumbled from the windowsill. “Precisely for that reason. Making me into some kind of old gossip who can’t be trusted with keeping a secret? I’d sooner resign than put up with this kind of attitude!”

“Perfect.” Godmother nodded. “No one is keeping you in the House by force. If your decision is final, prepare your resignation letter. The principal will sign off on it.”

The silence that fell on the room was disturbed only by the blades of the ceiling fan slicing through the air. Godmother, speaking for the principal in front of him, made everyone uneasy, and Sheriff doubly so.

“Now this is going too far!” he blurted. “Where d’you get off jerking people around? Who gave you that authority?”

“Everything our esteemed colleague expressed here has been discussed with me,” Shark said gleefully. “Discussed and approved.”