This so-called “Magic Monday,” faculty meeting has already caused a migraine for Ophelia. She sits beside her Aunt, staring as the headmistress, Mrs. Powell explains the focus points for the week. “This could have been done in an email.” She whispers, taking a bite of her chocolate croissant.

“Magic Mondays” are catered by the nearby brunch restaurant in the Highland Village a mile down the road. Aunt Lea had explained that every 2 weeks they hold a meeting to plan, discuss students, and see where improvements can be made in different areas. This just happened to be the meeting where they discussed funds for the mission trip next month to Connecticut.

“Honestly,” Azalea whispers back, draining the last of her hazelnut coffee. “I need more coffee to deal with this.” She motions with her chin across the room. “See that table?” Ophelia nods without looking too obviously at said table. “It was either Puerto Rico to help with the relief or Connecticut to work on community gardens. They had the deciding vote.” The table seats 5 and all of them are older than Ophelia’s mom.

“Oh…” She grabs a blueberry muffin from the tray in the center of their table. The other teachers seated with them are Dr. Davis, head of the science department, Judy Hotch is the biology teacher, and Ms. Franklin leads art. None of them pay their whispering any mind. Ms. Franklin is intently knitting, not even focused on the meeting. Dr. Davis is slowly inching her rolling chair back to the door, Judy right along with her. “I see. Well, maybe next trip it could be Puerto Rico?”

Azalea grabs ahold of Dr. Davis’ chair before the woman can finally roll away. “If I have to sit here and endure this, then you do too.” The woman glares at her but stops trying to escape. After a beat of silence, her Aunt turns back. “Sorry. But yeah, that’s our goal for Spring.”

She is about to answer back when Mrs. Powell’s voice is suddenly louder than before. “Ms. Long, is there any reason why you and Ms. North are speaking during the presentation?” Headmistress Powell stands in front of their table, her arms crossed and face downturned.

Feeling 30 pairs of eyes on them, Ophelia sinks lower in her seat. “No, I was just explaining to my niece about the presentation.” Aunt Azalea smiles sweetly, “Even though we have funds for the trip, we apparently don’t have enough to fix the mold in the girl’s locker room.”

Dr. Davis chokes on her bagel a laugh escaping, while the headmistress stares blankly at Azalea. “We have discussed that already Ms. Long.” Her flint-colored eyes settle on Ophelia. “Ms. North, why don’t you stand and introduce yourself. This is good a time as any.” She claps her hands, gathering everyone’s gaze. “Everyone, this is Ms. North, she is the new educational assistant for the science department.”

A pink flush settles on her cheeks, Ophelia stands, sweating. “Hello, I’m Ophelia.” She looks to the headmistress for direction and receives none. “Uh, I recently graduated from Vanderbilt University with a degree in Computer Science and Engineering, so if you have technology questions, I’m happy to help.” Literal crickets could be chirping with how dead it is inside the room. “My favorite color is yellow and I have a pet fish named Twizzler, like the candy.” With a slight nod, she sits back down, face cherry red.

The headmistress inclines her head, glancing at her watch. “That’s all we have for today. Everyone remember to check your emails and we have the RTI meetings this Thursday, so come prepared.”

Azalea and Ophelia are one of the first to exit the room, hot on Dr. Davis’ heels. “Wow, she’s annoying.” Her mouth gapes at the Doctor's bluntness. “What? She is.” Her Aunt guffaws, clapping Ophelia on the shoulder. “So Ophelia, you’re going to be with me today. How are you in chemistry?”

“Pretty good.” She shuffles, watching as Aunt Lea waves goodbye and follows the stream of teachers out of the conference area. “Organic is the one I really know by heart.”

“Great! Because the last assistant got 2nd-degree chemical burns last week, so I need someone who has a brain.” She struts off at a fast pace.

Quickly, Ophelia walks after her. “Burns?”

“She lied on her resume, but Azalea said you knew about chemistry and you’re from Vanderbilt so, you’re not a total idiot.” Dr. Davis stops abruptly. “I’m assuming you aren’t?”

Offended at the implication of not being smart enough to understand basic high school chemistry, she tilts her head to the side. “Do you want me to recite the periodic table of elements to you or do a problem from a workbook as proof?” She crosses her arms defensively, not amused by the way the other woman’s face lights up.

Dr. Davis pokes her arm with a grin. “You’re cute, but no. Just don’t embarrass yourself in front of the students. They can smell weakness.”

___________________________________

High school seniors are easy compared to the honors chemistry juniors Ophelia has had to meet so far. During honors chemistry with the juniors, Ophelia was being tugged back and forth between two tables that couldn’t understand the basic formula for Glucose. She became frazzled and worked it out for them in the end. Their smug conspiratorial grins gave way to their game of feigning dumb. She had scowled at them and ignored their tables for the rest of the hour.

AP Chemistry with Dr. Davis is a wild albeit very informative ride. She covers everything on the PowerPoint, mirroring it onto each student’s Chromebook. The seniors are diligent in their work and don’t seem to need any help from Ophelia. Not for lack of trying, she approached their lab tables to gauge their understanding and many were on task or ahead. When the seniors shuffle out of the classroom, Dr. Davis powers down her computer, stretching.

“Good work this morning.” She offers the woman a small hopeful smile. “Although, you need to not be so gullible with them.” Her smile instantly disappears. “Hey now, I saw what happened earlier. Don’t let them get one over on you.”

“Thanks.” She takes a seat on one of the metal lab stools. “This is my first time doing something like this so it’s unfamiliar to me.”

Dr. Davis waves her hand, “It’s your first day, you’ll be fine.” She bends down and pulls out a large binder. It slams onto her desk with a loud thunk. “I need you to print these worksheets out for me for the next group.” She hands Ophelia 2 separate worksheets and tells her to print off 20 each.

In the hallway, Ophelia breathes a stressed sigh. Her shoulders have been tense this entire morning after that horrible experience in the meeting. It doesn’t help that Dr. Davis lives to belittle those around her, even the students. Her methods of teaching weren’t like any of Ophelia’s professors or previous teachers in high school. It was hands-on and exciting. She actually made chemistry interesting and not dull. If it weren’t for her rudeness, Ophelia might even say she enjoyed the last 4 hours but that would be a big lie.

After five minutes of walking, she finally finds the teacher’s lounge with the printer. She had gotten turned around and went upstairs instead of down. Lungs stinging from sprinting down the last staircase, Ophelia briskly walks to the black door with bold white lettering “Teachers Lounge. No Students Allowed.”

She shoulders the door open and promptly smacks into someone. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry!” Papers fly into the air and rain down. “I’ll pick them up.”

“Don’t.” A harsh voice snaps. She freezes, on her knees with papers in her hands. Ophelia looks up, tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear, she startles at what she sees. The woman is glaring. Not even a normal glare, this one is full of hate.

It startles her so badly, that she begins rapidly grabbing the papers. “Really, it’s no big deal-”

She cuts Ophelia off, snatching the papers from her loose grasp. “Can you not follow directions? I said, don’t touch them.” As if nothing has happened, she begins gathering up the papers.

Ophelia stares, gobsmacked by the woman’s attitude and behavior. Like, what is her problem? She sits completely still, scared that if she moves this mean woman will bite her head clean off. Within seconds she has her papers in a neat pile. She stands, and heads for the door. “Uh…”

“What? Another poor apology?” Her cold blue eyes rake over Ophelia’s kneeled form. She hums as if expecting an answer. “Didn’t think so.” The door swings shuts behind her.

“What the fuck?” Ophelia looks around the room for a hidden camera, because what was that entire experience? It had to be a cruel prank. “Today sucks.” No one answers her in the empty room. She stands and goes to the copier machine. “Oh no, no no no.” She spins around searching for the worksheets Dr. Davis gave her. “She has them! That woman has them.”

Outside in the hallway, it’s empty. No one is around and Ophelia’s heart plummets. She has no idea who that woman was or where to go to get the papers back. If she goes back to Dr. Davis without them, the woman is liable to make a fool of her again. “The front office would know who she is.” Going through the school would take longer than circling the building, she maps it out in her head briefly. Ophelia races off down the hallway and outside. Her pumps hit the sidewalk at a run. Never mind the countless windows she sprints past that watch Ophelia sprint by in 3-inch heels and an a-line skirt. She has one mission and that is to reach the office before Dr. Davis’ next class.