Who's Teaching Whom?

She sighed and about-faced. "...Yyyyyes, Mrs. Larkin?"

Larkin summoned her back to the front with her index and middle fingers. Dale sighed and reversed course.

"Supposing, Danielle...just supposing I don't know 'how it is,'" she air-quoted. "Why don't you explain it for us?"

Da(niel)le felt something frightening settle over her head. "...Ex—...plain...what, Mrs. Larkin?"

"Why, the sort of restroom habits that cause a student to arrive tardy for class two days in a row, Danielle."

...What?

"Well, I mean, I...just, really really had to...well, go, for an...unusually long time, today. But that's not why I was late yesterday."

"Oh, I see. Then you mean to say that yesterday, it was complications with your girlfriend that led to your tardiness."

Dale arched her eyebrows. That's...weird. How'd she know that?

"Uh...well, yeah, as a matter of fact. I was talking to my friend Carly and we just lost track of time."

"Ah, yes," Larkin nodded, returning to the blackboard. "Well, we all know how adhesive romance can be."

Dale started to nod herself, then stopped.

"R—...rom-romance?"

Mrs. Larkin turned back to her from the board, and innocently retreated to where Dale stood.

"Yes, well, I'm certain that romance is as important a factor in a lesbian relationship as in any other."

Dale's blood froze, forcing the rest of her to follow suit. Again, the teacher approached the blackboard to go on.

"...What?"

Larkin paused, turned, and sauntered back once more.

"I believe all I've said to be comprehensibly straightforward, Danielle. You are a lesbian, are you not?"

Dale heard murmuring amongst her classmates. She could not believe this. She felt like she could only imagine Cara felt the day before. She was not ashamed of her sexuality, but was simply not ready to make it public knowledge—even for one high school class of twenty-four students! It was—supposed to be—no one's business but her own!

She heard Mrs. Larkin this time resume writing on the blackboard. But just as quickly, Dale's mind was invaded by yet another equally terrifying thought: how the hell did she know that?!

"What...what would make you say that??"

Mrs. Larkin gave a chuckle. "Why, Danielle, whatever would not make me say that? I've observed your body language, the flirtatious way you behave around your fellow young ladies," she gestured to the class. "The way you pass a girl a note, asking her to call or text you? Even with me. Look at yourself, standing here beside me. You're flushed, fidgety, nervous with jitters...

"Why, I wouldn't be surprised if your hormones were causing a premature stimulation in my presence."

Dale's heart about stopped beating. She heard her classmates emit a few gasps and titters. She looked like this for a completely different reason, but the class didn't know that. She even thought she heard an indecipherable voice rasp out, "Oh God, she's hot for Larkin!"

This was too much. Dale felt tears rush her eyes. Mrs. Larkin evidently thought very highly of her own appeal. But Dale couldn't have cared a whit less. She was beyond shock. Terror shadowed and fell over her. She could've assaulted Mrs. Larkin, tearing her limb from limb until there was nothing left, but...she just stood there. Like a queer in headlights. Immobile. Stunned. Lifeless.

Larkin again turned from the board to see Dale still in place, motionless and stationary.

"You may please take your seat now, Danielle. And do try not to inappropriately touch any of the young ladies on the way."

These final words made something in Dale snap. Instinctively, she made a decision. She couldn't be here right now. Instead of to her seat beside Cara, the mortified Dale Sunderland whirled 180°, grabbed the knob, wrenched open the door and dashed back out before anyone could see her break up in wracking bawls. She was beside herself. It was unbelievable. That despicable, loathsome, heartless woman had just outed her, in front of the whole class! On top of which, she'd accused Dale of being turned on by her! Dale supposed if she viewed Mrs. Larkin not as a teacher and just as a normal woman she'd never seen before, she could see her as attractive, maybe even sexy, but this was not the point. The woman had harassed her, in every which way imaginable, and now taken a big step too far.

And the class had believed it, and mocked her! They'd laughed at her! Even if out of backhanded sympathy, it was unacceptable. Dale couldn't handle this. She wanted to kill herself. Cara was right. She'd been absolutely on the money: Larkin was a monster. Sent here from hell to terrorize the students of Juniper High. Dale hated her. She hated Mrs. Geena Larkin with white-hot intensity. She abhorred this awful, beastly creature who had the nerve to call herself a human being. She just wanted away from her, and away from this place. She'd removed nothing from her backpack, and was essentially all set to just go home. If she arrived home an hour early, her folks would want to know why...but she could just stop off somewhere else to kill the time, and no one would be the wiser. Again, this was beside the point. She headed for the front doors which led back out to the parking lot, but...she stopped. Again, she reversed her course, and strode down the hall in the other direction.

*****

On Principal

Friday, March 4th, 2016, 2:38 p.m.

She decided to go to the principal, Mr. Garver. There were also the school psychologist and guidance counselor, but they weren't the answer. This was no internal problem, or something that only existed in Dale's mind. She needed someone with the power to fix this situation. To put things right, and administer justice where it needed to be served. Al Franklin Garver prided himself on not only running a productive, safe, efficient school, but also on making himself personable, accessible to students. He wanted to be able to relate to students on their own level. Like he always said—as did a bumper sticker on his car—"You can't spell principal without 'pal.'"

There were already a couple students in line to see Mr. Garver. Dale was to wait her turn. And so she was given time if desired to think about things, but...what was there to think about? Mrs. Larkin had wronged her, deeply wounded her, and she needed and deserved to be castigated. Dale didn't know how, and she wasn't one to wish harm on others, but oh, would she right now suck some satisfaction out of seeing Larkin be cut down to size. To be made to suffer a fraction of the mistreatment she'd inflicted on her classes. Dale wasn't asking for the world here. Only the logical retribution to which she felt she was entitled.

At 2:38, she got her turn to see Mr. G. He asked her to please have a seat and tell him what was up. And tell him she did. She proceeded to spill it all, from each of Larkin's antics she could remember since the beginning, up to the present day, the way she'd so mercilessly, cavalierly ripped her apart before her classmates' eyes. This of course required inadvertently telling Mr. Garver as well that she was gay. Which wasn't pleasant either, but necessary for the full picture. And Mr. Garver was the school principal. He was put in this position and paid not to judge students—or admins—on identity alone. No one should. But some did, as Dale explained. At last, the icing on the cake, as it were: she finished with how Mrs. Larkin had practically accused Dale of being sexually aroused by her.

"Those are strong allegations, Miss Sunderland," Garver told her.

"They're all true, Mr. Garver. I swear it on my life."

"When this happened today, did she strike you, or touch you in any way to make you feel uncomfortable?"

"...No, sir, I don't think so. She just said those nasty things to me."

"Well, what were her exact words? What, precisely, did she say to you?"

"Um..." Dale tried to think. It wasn't easy or fun to go back through those torturous moments, recent though they were. "She said...like, 'I see how you look at other girls, Danielle. I see how you flirt with them, and,' like, 'Your body language. And with me too.' She said I was all nervous up there with her, and...and she said something about stimulation in my hormones in her presence. Oh, oh, yeah, and she said, 'Take your seat, Danielle, and try not to touch any of the young ladies on your way,'" she narrated, making a groping gesture on the word "touch." "I-I don't know if all that's, y'know, a hundred percent word for word, but that's the essence of it. I promise."

"I see," remarked Mr. Garver. "Well, Miss Sunderland, when a student reports a teacher's behavior to my attention, as I'm sure you understand, I need the former's full testimony. Now, you know there're two sides to every story. And I'm not saying I don't believe you, or want to help you; I do. And confidentially...yours is not the first or only complaint I've received regarding Mrs. Larkin."

This made Dale feel better. But what Mr. Garver said next failed to achieve the same.

"However, in order to properly address and correct this issue, we'll need to be concrete. I'll need to have it established to my satisfaction that Mrs. Larkin has said these things to you, and meant them in the way you've interpreted. Please understand, Miss Sunderland, I'm not accusing you of making this up. Frankly, I don't see what you'd have to gain by just fabricating this story. But, is it at all possible you may have misunderstood her comments? Or taken anything she said in an unintended way?"

"No, sir!" Dale answered automatically, violently shaking her head. "Uh-uh. No way. Everything she said was crystal-clear. I absolutely swear on my parents' graves, she said, point-blank, 'You are a lesbian, are you not?' And...well, yeah, I am a lesbian, but I didn't want it just blurted out like that! I wasn't ready to be outed, Mr. Garver! It really hurt me! It's like she had no respect for how I felt at all! And, I..." She shook her head again. "I know it was only...whatever, twenty-something kids, but...I-I felt like, God! Just tell everybody, why don'tcha?! Did anyone in Yugoslavia not hear it?? Is it gonna be on the news? 'Dale Sunderland outed! Film at eleven!'"

"Okay, Miss Sunderland," said Mr. Garver, as Dale neared tears again. "All right. I believe you. I can see how upset you are, and I highly doubt you'd be moved to tears if this didn't happen, or affect you so powerfully. Now here's what I'd like you to do. You say this clearly happened in front of the entire class, correct?"

Sniffle. "Right," Dale confirmed, giving her eyes and nose a swipe.

"All right. Is there anyone in the class whom you could bring with you, as a witness, to back this up on your behalf?"

Dale's moist eyes lit up.

"Yes! Yes, there is! Cara Reynolds! She sits right next to me. And yesterday, I passed her a...uh...I-I mean, yesterday, we got to talking after class, and we started to hit it off. Not-not like that, I mean, but...yeah, I think we're friends now. And she told me yesterday how much she hates Mrs. Larkin, 'cau—oh! God! That's right! Mr. Garver, we bonded over that 'cause she embarrassed Cara yesterday too! She-she didn't out her or anything...I don't think Cara's gay, but she made her feel really stupid for not knowing an answer to a question. So yeah! Yeah, I'm sure Cara would love to tell you what happened."

"Well, that settles it then," Garver decided. "Come and see me with Miss Reynolds first thing Monday, and we'll straighten this out."

"Monday? Well...if you're still gonna be here, I can probably just go get h—"

BRRRRIIIINNNNGGGG!!

Dale looked up, hearing the bell. The next place she looked was Mr. Garver's wall clock. It was 2:50. The day was over.

She sat back in her seat, now a bit disappointed and deflated. It looked like she wouldn't be able to grab Cara today. It was Friday, and her fellow students would be stampeding out the door at the sound of that bell. Dale couldn't say she blamed them.

"Don't worry, Miss Sunderland," Mr. Garver consoled with a smile. "First thing Monday. Now, is there anything else I can do you for?"

"No, no, that was pretty much it."

"Then you go and have a splendid weekend, young lady."

"Thanks, Mr. Garver, you too."

Dale exited the office, still feeling better overall. She might have to wait out the weekend, but when she and Cara got to school and met up on Monday, they were going to strike a blow for justice, together. And score one for mistreated students everywhere. And presuming Cara's word with hers was sufficient evidence, their wrath would be felt. And Mrs. Larkin would learn that she couldn't just treat students—or anyone, for that matter—with such disrespect...and...get away with it...

The school was almost emptied. Of kids, that was to say. Dale was about to go the same way, right out the front door, but...didn't.

For reasons even she couldn't quite unscramble, Dale felt a strange urge pulling her back down the hall, back to Larkin's classroom door. She wasn't very keen on finding out what she'd missed, nor if weekend homework was assigned. She'd hopefully hear from Cara, or try to Facebook her, and get the scoop from her. Of course, she also needed to brief Cara on their Monday morning mission. Speaking of her neighbor and buddy, she probably returned to the classroom to see if Cara was still there. Maybe Larkin kept her after class for some hypothetical reason. Dale wouldn't put it past her to detain a student for simply not knowing the answers to her questions. She reached the door and cautiously peeked. Nope. No Cara.

Mrs. Larkin was still there, though, the rat. Probably grading crooked papers or some other rotten trick to make seniors suffer as much as possible before they were free of this school. Dale pushed a frustrated sighing breath through her nose. She could just go home right now. Nothing was stopping her. She could just go and make this a lovely weekend, to come back on Monday and carry out her task with her new partner in anti-crime. She let her hand slide down from the nearby lockers and drop to her torso. To the fabric of her chosen necktie du jour. Hmph, she quietly scoffed. Well, a fat lot of good her "lucky" neckwear had done her toda—...

...

Wait a second.

Dale crouched to the floor, retrieved her backpack and dug in to check, and double-check. Yep.

She rose back up to peek through the door again. There sat Mrs. Larkin, still doing whatever she did here post-class.

It was after 3:00. Dale felt a sudden tingle of excitement jump through her. No one was here. Other teachers might still have been in their own classrooms, doing their own thing, but...no one else was just right here. Dale made herself take an extra second to think this over. She had only until Monday, but...she didn't want to wait. Although...dare she?

She listened to the menacing echoes in her mind.

"You are a lesbian, are you not? (not? (not?))

"I've observed your body language (language (language))...

"Flushed, fidgety, nervous with jitters (jitters (jitters))...

"Why, I wouldn't be surprised if your hormones were causing a premature stimulation in my presence (presence (presence))."

Yes. Suddenly, the decision couldn't be clearer. She dare.

She retrieved a couple and shoved them good and snug into her pocket. Then she took a deep breath, summoned her nerves and courage, forced herself to stay under control, and seized the doorknob.

Just do it, she told herself. Just be cool. No one's here now. It's just you...and her.

CreeeeEEEAK...CREEEEeeeak—slam.

Mrs. Larkin looked up. Seeing Dale, she wordlessly, blanked stared a moment, then went back to her papers. Only while looking down did she finally address her.

"Class has let out, Danielle."

Dale slowly approached, keeping her breathing under control.

"I realize that, Mrs. Larkin."

"And so what are you doing here then?"

Oh, you're gonna find out soon enough...but for now...

"I came back to give you an opportunity to apologize to me."

Larkin laid her pen to rest as the words registered.

"Apologize. To you."

"Yeah," Dale affirmed, letting her anger replenish. "You heard me. It may've been wrong of me to run out like I did, but I only did it because you humiliated me. What you did was way wronger—or, oh, oh, excuse me, Sergeant Grammar—way more wrong. Outing me to the whole class like that?! No matter how it might make me feel? Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, I might not want people to know I'm gay?! What gives you that right?! Huh?? God, talk about a dick move! Who the hell do you think you are??"

Larkin waited until she finished, and abruptly stood. Again, Dale fought to keep from feeling threatened or daunted.

"Who I am, young lady, is a person who holds a crucial chunk of your high school fate in her hands," Larkin sneered. "And if you value your future and wish to graduate, you'll realize and respect that. And I'll tell you something else, Danielle. I do not have to explain myself or answer to you, a mere student. I run this classroom according to my rules and guidelines. And in here, it is you who do as I instruct. Because at the end of the day, all said and done, I have no qualms whatsoever in failing you, of my own free will and rein."

Dale glared her hard and steely in the eyes.

"You can't do that."

"Oh, can I not?" Mrs. Larkin turned her back on Dale to even her papers and slip them into her briefcase. She spun back around.

"Watch me," she snarled, almost smiling wickedly. "And watch your step, if you intend to conquer this school in your academic career.

"Now, if you're quite through with your little tirade, and satisfied that you won't be getting your apology, I bid you good day, Danielle."

Larkin strode around her and started for the door. Dale panicked. Suddenly, she realized it was now or never. She might not have a chance like this again. She had to go for it, and was fueled with just enough intense anger.

All right, she told herself. Here goes nothing!

Dale backed to the end of the room for momentum, charged, bounded up behind Larkin, bent her knees, sprang, and pounced on her. As Larkin reacted with a start, Dale pushed down with her weight, and tackled the teacher to the floor.

The briefcase flew free from Mrs. Larkin's hand. "UHHFF!" Larkin exclaimed, landing painfully on her breasts. The blow momentarily knocked the wind from her, and that moment was all Dale needed. Straddling Mrs. Larkin's rump and waist, she whipped the neckties out of her pocket. While she had her caught off-guard, Dale frantically seized her wrists behind her back, and wrapped an end of the first tie around each, knotting in the middle to bind Mrs. Larkin's hands together.

In a rare moment of weakness, Mrs. Larkin was taken entirely aback. "What the...hey! Wh—...you little delinquent! What do you think you're doing?!" she demanded. "Get off of me immediately!"

She must've been nuts if she thought Dale would actually obey her this time. Lucky thing she was so handy with these ties, myriads of daily practice under her belt—or, rather, her collar. Having forced some control, she pinned down Larkin's hands with her knee, and the second tie went into her mouth to gag her. Now that the deed was underway, Dale obviously couldn't have her screaming for other nearby teachers to run inside to put a stop to this. And especially not Mr. Garver. That couldn't play out in her favor at all.