Page 74 of His Keepsake

“Umm. Ahh. It was an important family message. I do apologize.” He tucked it away. “Now. Where were we?”

“We voted to dismiss Miss Morrison and have agreed the evidence is enough. Correct?” She eyed them and they nodded.

Had they voted? I opened my mouth.

“Also Mr. Wharton. We will be carrying this to the police and suggesting a public indecency charge be brought. Could you please show me those images so I can be sure of their truth and their existence, before I do so.”

I was struck numb and quivering with a mix of indignation and shame. What could I do? Had we been indecent? I thought we were concealed under that tree.

I almost said so but…no.

“Oh, well.” He fumbled the cellphone and nearly dropped it, then we waited an eternity for him to find the images.

I was sitting but feeling as if I should run somewhere. But if that wasn’t an admission of guilt, what was?

They had already dismissed me. Fuck this. They couldn’t make me stay.

I stood slowly, nodded to the three not playing with a phone. “I might go.”

The secretary looked taken aback, stunned even.

Mr. Wharton whispered something to the principal.

The principal sighed and woke from her self-imposed silence. “That’s okay, Mr. Wharton.” She patted his hand. “The images seem to have been deleted, and Mr. Wharton wants to retract his evidence.” Her smile was one hundred percent a condescending one.

“I for one do not accept this. You are dismissed still, Miss Morrison, from your duties at the school. All it takes is enough board votes. Thank goodness our morality clause is part of an iron-clad agreement. You are in fact,” she smiled then not-smiled at me. “Fired.”

Somewhere, sometime, in the miasma of shock my head was stewing in, a security guard materialized and walked me out to the mostly empty parking lot.

Sunset had happened. Streetlights were coming on. I breathed in the cooling air and resisted, yet again, bursting into tears.

“I need a drink,” I muttered. “God, I need a drink. Who though?” Who would join me? With shaking hand, I searched my handbag for my phone.

Charity of course. She would forgive me anything and probably murder my enemies with a fork if I requested it.

“Us, you get us, Miss Morrison.”

I blanched at that voice and turned to see Mr. Scott and Axl bearing down on me. They flanked me and crowded me, reminding me how much taller they were. Or how much smaller I was.

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