Five
Trudy
Apparently, last semester’s tornado drill had interrupted Hazel Hyde’s most important class.
“...right in the middle of polynomial equations,” she lamented on Tuesday morning in the teachers’ lounge.
Miss Hyde had been Trudy’s old Algebra teacher and was known as the meanest teacher in the school, maybe even across three counties.
“Honestly, Hazel,” Miss Duffy said. “All that sounds like a bunch of crap nobody’s ever gonna use. But learning to survive a twister? Now that’s something children need to know.”
Miss Hyde looked at Miss Duffy as if she’d started speaking in tongues, then pulled out a pack of Camel Lights.
She looked like a skeleton in a sack, tall and bony with a wrinkled neck and purple eye bags.
No one knew how long Miss Hyde’s hair was because it was always in a salt-and-pepper bun where she stored pencils.
Her reading glasses, strangely, never made it to her face; they just hung on a chain, resting on what used to be boobs.
Miss Hyde took a slow drag, then let each word escape with its own puff of smoke. “Well could you at least let us know when it’s happening this semester, so we can plan?”
“Oh sure!” Miss Duffy barked. “While we are at it, why don’t we just overnight the nuclear codes to the Soviet Union by Federal Express?
” She cackled as if Miss Hyde had said the craziest thing.
“Tornado drills must be when you least expect them, Hazel, like a real tornado. I don’t even tell Mr. Hendon.
I just wait until I sense this little niggling deep within my spirit and this little voice says to me, ‘Gloria Duffy, today is a good day for a tornado.’ And then I run over and pull that alarm. ”
Miss Hyde blew another plume and blinked. “Perhaps, then, you can ask your spirit to hold off its niggling until at least October.”
“Tornadoes don’t care what month it is, Hazel. And those cigarettes are going to kill you one day. Don’t you think the superintendent would agree, Trudy?”
Trudy, studying her lesson plan—and realizing she’d forgotten to reserve the projector for the filmstrip about safety in the chemistry lab—looked up and shrugged. “Um. Sure, I guess so?”
“See?” Miss Duffy bragged. “I knew the superintendent would agree.” Trudy was about to correct her and clarify that she and Haskel had never actually discussed tornado drills, nor the dangers of cigarettes for that matter, but then Hazel Hyde glared at her and said, “Having an inside track must be nice.”
Trudy smiled weakly and felt seventeen again, fearing Miss Hyde’s disapproval. “Oh! Um . . . well . . . Haskel and I don’t actually talk about—”
“Listen to me very carefully, dear.” Miss Hyde stepped over to Trudy’s table and stood over her.
Her voice was scratchy and low, and Trudy wondered if she was ever mistaken for a man when she called 1-800 numbers or ordered burgers at the drive-through.
“Who your boyfriend hires around here is none of my business. But the truth is this: you’re unqualified and everyone knows it, including your students. ”
Trudy was so caught off guard, she opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
“I don’t mean to be ugly, dear. But the little sweet-thing bit you pulled when you were in high school won’t work as a teacher. These ungrateful little turds will award points for neither congeniality nor poise. This ain’t the Miss Bruin Beauty Pageant,” Miss Hyde said.
“Well, that’s a relief!” Trudy tried laughing it off. “Because I wasn’t in the pageant, given my circumstances at the time.”
Miss Hyde glanced at Trudy’s midriff. Instinctively, Trudy covered her belly with both hands as Miss Hyde took a seat across from her and flicked ashes in the ashtray.
Gina Spencer, Trudy’s former English teacher came in; the friendly face, thankfully, eased some tension.
Miss Hyde continued. “These demons are raised on R-rated movies, Pac-Man, and Tang,” she hissed, extinguishing her cigarette.
“They only care about finding the chinks in your armor, then joining forces with Satan himself to dismantle it. They strip you of your willpower first. Then your dignity. And then ...” Miss Hyde’s eyes narrowed into tiny slits as she leaned across the table toward Trudy.
“They’ll strip you of your very soul.” She reached and pressed her middle finger into Trudy’s chest.
“Great news!” Miss Spencer said. “You’ve gotten your Chinks in the Armor Speech. It’s official now. Welcome aboard, Miss Abernathy!”
Trudy smiled but held her hand over the spot where Miss Hyde had poked her.
“What would new teachers do without you, Miss Hyde?” Miss Spencer laughed.
“Rock themselves to death in the corner of a padded room, I imagine,” Miss Hyde said.
Gina Spencer laughed then sat on the couch, perhaps wanting to keep to herself and Tar Baby by Toni Morrison which she’d pulled from her bag.
She had beautiful brown skin and what Leta Pearl would call “natural beauty” since she looked so pretty with only lipstick.
Miss Spencer was the first teacher Trudy ever had who wasn’t White, but more importantly, she was the first teacher who ever seemed truly interested in what the students themselves thought about literature and life.
“Good morning, ladies!” The teachers’ lounge door swung open, and Coach Meechum entered.
“Morning, Coach!” Miss Duffy handed him a cup of coffee she’d already poured as if on cue.
Trudy hid her face behind her lesson plan, but the lounge was cozy, and it was difficult to ignore anyone, especially somebody as obnoxious as Coach Meechum.
Miss Hyde stood, and she and Miss Duffy flanked him as he scooped powdered creamer into his mug at the counter.
The whole scene seemed like a bad Maxwell House commercial.
“Hey there, rookie!” Coach Meechum crossed the entire room in two steps and took a seat at Trudy’s table without asking. “Found the swimming pool yet?”
Trudy peeked over the top of her lesson plan. “Afraid not,” she said.
Coach Meechum reached over and gently tugged the pages from her, turned them right side up, and handed them back. “That should help.”
Trudy felt a red flush sweep her face as she drew her eyebrows closer together.
“Pool’s in the basement,” Shug deadpanned and straightened his Bailey Springs Beacon with a snap.
“Miss Abernathy,” Miss Duffy said. “There’s neither a basement nor a swimming pool at Bailey Springs High School. Coach Meechum is pulling your leg.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Miss Duffy. I’ve already learned exactly the level of maturity we’re dealing with when it comes to Coach Meechum. In fact, I’m surprised to see him with a newspaper. Tell us Coach, what is Garfield up to today?”
Meechum smiled, clearly amused. “Haven’t gotten to the funnies yet.
Still reading about the PLO’s withdrawal from Beirut and President Reagan’s sanctions against the Soviets.
Oh! And it looks like there’s a Senate bill to address our lack of qualified engineers and scientists.
” He peered around the side of the Beacon .
“Apparently, this country needs better science teachers.”
Before she could stop herself, Trudy’s jaw went slack, and she grunted. “Well, maybe if the science teachers weren’t interrupted with unsanctioned pep rallies, our students would be better equipped for jobs at NASA.”
Meechum lowered the paper and set his coffee down between them. “You’re not really upset about that, are you?”
Trudy grunted out her disgust and hid behind her pages again.
“I mean, no teacher teaches on the first day,” Meechum argued. “Right?”
Trudy dipped the lesson plan below eye level. “This teacher does.”
“Yeah, but you’re a rookie.” Coach Meechum waved her off. “How about you, Gina? Diagram many sentences yesterday?”
“Juniors and seniors are a bit past sentence diagramming, Coach,” Miss Spencer said without looking up from Morrison.
“See?” The coach gestured to Gina as if she’d provided valid evidence for his case. “Anyway, I reckon we better become friends before next Friday. First football game against Goose Shoals.”
Miss Duffy released a disgusted groan. “Oh, those awful Goose Shoals Gators and their purple uniforms. Ugly as sin. It’s enough to make me want to smack somebody in the teeth!”
“That’s the spirit, Gloria!” Coach Meechum laughed.
“That all sounds like barrels of fun,” Trudy replied. “But unfortunately, I have other plans.”
“Other plans?” The coach guffawed. “There are no other plans on Fridays during football.”
He was, indeed, correct about that in Bailey Springs.
“Other plans!” The coach laughed, pretending to wipe tears from his eyes. “That’s rich. Especially coming from the cheerleader sponsor!”
“Pardon?” Trudy asked. “I’m not the—”
“Oh shoot!” Miss Duffy slapped her own forehead. “I knew I was forgetting something. Why, all day long yesterday I felt it in my ear lobes. I even woke up this morning and felt like some little pooger booger was tapping me on the shoulder trying to tell me I forgot something.”
“A pooger booger?” Trudy asked, because Miss Duffy had been speaking to her, specifically.
“I flat out forgot to tell you!” Miss Duffy placed her hand on her heart as if she was telling them about somebody who’d just found out they had cancer.
“Miss Thompson, the former chemistry teacher, well, I’m sure you remember how she was also the cheerleader sponsor?
But don’t you worry, honey, it’s not too much.
Those girls practically do everything by themselves.
I mean, clearly, Miss Thompson had plenty of extra time on her hands, if you know what I’m saying.
” She floated into the chair next to Coach Meechum and elbowed him in the side. They both giggled.
Miss Duffy went on. “The main thing is to stay in budget. And then run the cheerleader tryouts at the end of the year. And of course, attend the football games in the fall.”
“And the basketball games in the spring,” Miss Hyde added.