Miss Merriweather's Monster

Content Note: Story contains non-consensual magical interference, brief reference to workplace harassment.

The cardboard box full of leftover supplies from the previous school year felt heavy in Gwen Merriweather’s hands. As she carried it across the parking lot into Barren Hollow Elementary School, she remembered it being lighter back in June on the last day of school when she had dropped it into the trunk of her car. 

It would be so much easier, Gwen thought, to fly this box through the air and into the open window of her classroom on the second floor. No, she couldn’t do that. Someone might see her, question her, become suspicious. Or the box might crash on the playground before it reached its destination. Or it could disappear in a flash of light and she’d lose everything.

 “Need a hand with that?” Morton Fairbanks, the school principal, called out from the school’s entrance.

“I’m good,” Gwen replied reflexively. 

Years ago, Morton had given her a ride home when her car was in the shop. On the way, he had put his hand on her thigh. She removed it. He laughed. She had wanted to turn him into a frog right then but they were going 60 miles an hour on the freeway, and neither she nor the frog would be able to drive the manual transmission of Morton’s sports car. And what would she do when he inevitably reverted to his original form? How would she explain it? 

Morton peeked into the box as she passed. “You saved a lot from last year,” he said. “Reduce, reuse, recycle. That’s my motto. Good to see one of my teachers following the same philosophy. You know with the budget cuts—“

“Yes, I know,” Gwen called over her shoulder, not stopping to hear the rest of the lecture. “More students, less money. Be careful with supplies. Same thing every year.”

Gwen climbed the stairs to her classroom and, with a sigh of relief, deposited the box on the edge of her gray metal desk. Sometime over the summer, the custodian had moved it too close to the windows, and she'd have to move it back. If she waited for the custodian to move it, it would stay by the windows until winter break. Of course, levitating it into the air and setting it down where it belonged would save the strain on her back, but she couldn’t risk that. What if the desk went in the wrong direction and crashed through the windows instead of moving in front of the chalkboard?

For now, she’d leave the desk where it was. She began unpacking the cardboard box, checking each glue stick for usability. Most were too dried out to salvage, so Gwen tossed them in the wastebasket. An entire ream of paper had gotten stained in the trunk of her car, probably from the summer humidity. She’d still use it. She had to.

Why did this job have to be so hard? she asked herself as she rooted through the box, searching for something worth saving. Gwen could fill this classroom from floor to ceiling with supplies, but it would only be a matter of time before they all disappeared in puffs of smoke. That was no permanent solution. Of course, the children would be delighted with their front row seats at a very brief magic show.

“Talking to yourself again?” Patty Callahan, Barren Hollow Elementary’s other third grade teacher, walked into Gwen’s classroom.

“Just muttering,” Gwen said. “Not having a full conversation.”

“Not yet, you mean.”

“Yes, that will be later, when I’m out panhandling by the side of the road to supplement my income.”

Patty pulled out one of the student chairs and squeezed herself behind the desk. “How was your summer? Did you break up with that Egret or Egbert or whatever his name is?”

“Egerton,” Gwen corrected. He didn’t exist. Gwen had invented him as a convenient excuse for all sorts of things that otherwise would have drawn too much attention. “No, we’re still an item. You know, I think he might ask me to the prom.”

“Did I ever tell you about my prom?” Patty asked. “My mother made my dress. She never sewed anything in her life. Never even darned a sock, but when my high school prom rolled around, suddenly she’s Betsy Ross.”

Gwen decided one of the glue sticks she had previously discarded was salvageable and pulled it from the waste can. “I bet you looked stunning in red and white stripes.”

“Blue with sequins,” Patty provided the detail. “I looked like I’d fought Liberace for the damn thing over a bargain bin.” She turned to the side in the seat to stretch out her legs. “So what did you make of that piece Action News did on Teresa?”

Over the summer, the local TV station had produced a human interest story on one of Gwen’s former students, Teresa Fanelli. The video had been widely shared on all the online educator forums. Gwen had seen the segment when it had aired live. Teresa had made sure to let her know when it would be on.

“I saw it,” Gwen said.

“And what did you think?”

“I thought it was fine. She’s a bright girl. She spoke well.”

“You know, Morton's got this idea the story is going to improve the Barren Hollow's reputation. He even got the school district to add the video to the county website.” Patty snorted. “The only school anyone will remember from that video is Harvard.” She maneuvered herself out of the desk and started back to her own classroom, looking down into Gwen’s wastebasket as she passed. “Do you think we’ll be able to trade on our school’s reputation for more glue sticks?” 

* * *

Gwen considered deleting the email without telling anyone. Her finger hovered over the trash icon for a long moment before she decided that wasn’t a good idea. If she ignored the email, who knows what Teresa would do? She’d definitely escalate it to Morton, and possibly the school superintendent. Maybe even her Congressman.

“This is fabulous!” Morton responded after Gwen forwarded Teresa’s email. “Is there any way you think she would speak at the Back to School Night assembly?”

She would, Gwen knew. Teresa had probably been planning her triumphant return to Barren Hollow Elementary from the day she left.

In the days leading up to Back to School Night, Morton plastered every inch of wall space with posters announcing the event’s “special guest.”

“Where am I supposed to put my kickball sign-up sheets?” Avery Harrison, one of the fifth grade teachers who also organized intramural sports, complained in the staffroom. The sports program had once included softball and baseball, too, but both had been lost in the last round of budget cuts. “Everyone knows how important it is to capitalize on the students’ enthusiasm in the first few days of school.”

“Yeah, it’s like what happens with murders,” Patty Callahan said, and Gwen waited for the punchline. “If the police haven’t caught the culprit in the first 48 hours, they aren’t going to. Kickball is just like that.”

Gwen ignored her friend’s glib comment. “I’m sure plenty of students will join the kickball team, Avery,” she said. "They know you're a good coach and it's always a great experience for them."

She could cast a spell to get the students excited about the sport, of course. When it wore off in a couple of days or weeks or whenever, no one would notice. Kids were expected to lose interest. 

No, she couldn’t do that. Hadn’t she learned her lesson?

* * *

Barren Hollow Elementary had never seen such a turnout for Back to School Night and the auditorium was running out of seats. Morton Fairbanks sent the custodian in search of folding chairs, and returned with a dozen he'd found in the back of a closet somewhere. They were scratched and bent and covered in dust.

“Morton, these chairs aren’t safe.” Gwen put her hand on the back of one and it wobbled like Jello.

The principal tested the chair himself, taking a seat. It squeaked and groaned but did not collapse.

Morton stood up. “Let’s save these seats for the more petite parents." He pointed to the sturdier seats in the auditorium. "Send the plus-sized parents to sit there.”

“The seats don’t matter,” Gwen said. “We’re already exceeding safe occupant limits according to the fire code. We should start turning people away.”

Morton blanched. “We can’t do that! This is an opportunity for Barren Hollow Elementary to show off our most successful graduate. But I will take your safety concerns into consideration, Gwen.” 

She could almost hear the gears moving in his brain as Morton calculated the effect of a catastrophic fire on his career.

“Whaddya wanna do, Morton?” the custodian asked.

 “Put these chairs back in storage,” the principal decided. “If more people come, tell them they have to stand. I'm sure they’ll go home instead. No one wants to stand around at these things. They’re interminable!”

Despite Morton’s prediction, few parents took up the custodian’s offer to go home and relax on their comfortable living room sofas. By the time the principal took the stage, a good ten or more parents stood next to Gwen and Patty, and all of them were wedged by the back door.

“Tonight,” Morton said from the stage, “we’re welcoming back one of the shining stars of Barren Hollow Elementary School, Teresa Fanelli. Teresa left these halls not very long ago, and we like to believe that while she was here, we helped set the foundation for her success. Many of you know Teresa graduated summa cum laude from Harvard University with a degree in astrophysics this spring, and she’ll continue her studies at the University of Oxford in the fall. We’re honored to have her speak here tonight and hope you will find inspiration in her story. She serves as an example of what can be achieved through hard work and perseverance. Now, I know you didn’t come here tonight to see me, so let’s hear from Teresa.”

Morton joined in with the audience applause as he stepped away from the podium and took a seat on the stage alongside the assistant principal, the school secretary, and the school nurse. As they clapped, the audience watched the edges of the stage for Teresa’s appearance, but she did not walk out. When the applause began to taper off, the back door by Gwen and Patty creaked open, and a stream of light from the hallway flooded the darkened auditorium. 

Teresa Fanelli stepped through the light, posing for a moment in the doorway to stand with her hands on her hips. The applause surged to its previous volume. She waited for it to subside before she strode down the aisle to the stage, a pile of papers tucked under one arm. To Gwen, she looked more like a college professor than a student, dressed in a dark wool skirt and cotton blouse, covered by a cardigan that fell past her waist.

Of course, Gwen thought, that’s exactly what an eleven-year-old would choose to wear to appear more mature in front of a group of parents and teachers.

* * *

“Hello Barren Hollow Elementary!” Teresa shouted from the podium. She had to stand on a small stool to reach the microphone. “How’s everyone feeling tonight?”

“Is she going to give a speech or launch into a rock ballad?” Patty whispered in Gwen’s ear.

“Don’t worry,” Teresa said from the stage, “I’m not going to keep you here long with a boring story about my journey from Barren Hollow Elementary to Harvard, but I will begin by saying no one has been more surprised by it than me. Well, maybe my parents.” Chuckles from the crowd. “And maybe one other person. Miss Merriweather, are you out there?” Teresa shielded her eyes from the lights that shone on the stage to search the audience.

When Gwen didn’t immediately raise her hand, Patty nudged her with an elbow. Gwen lifted her arm in a half-hearted wave.

“There she is!” Teresa spotted her and the audience applauded. “Yes, Miss Merriweather. It’s good to see her. Just now, I heard Mr. Fairbanks say the staff here at Barren Hollow wants to take credit for my success. I don’t know about that. I did spend a few years here at Barren Hollow Elementary. I skipped the fourth and fifth grades and went on to Barren Hollow Middle School, where I stopped long enough for a cup of coffee. Never even stepped foot in the high school. So I’ll give you that. I did go straight from Barren Hollow Elementary to Harvard, pretty much.”

Laughter from the crowd.

“Still, I don’t know how much credit I’ll give the staff here, with the exception of Miss Merriweather. She taught my third grade class, and it was during that school year my genius was finally recognized.”

Applause from the crowd.

Up on the stage, Teresa raised her hands to quiet the audience before she continued speaking. 

“You might want to hold your applause until I explain further. You see, Miss Merriweather didn’t encourage or inspire me. I’m pretty sure she didn’t even like me. She thought I disrupted her class and prevented other students from learning. She would get really upset when I didn’t do my assignments. All that is true. I was disruptive, I did talk a lot to the other kids, and I didn’t do my homework. I’d never done well in school, not first grade, not second grade, and Miss Merriweather’s class was no different. I remember at the first parent-teacher conference, she met my father, Dominic—I think he’s here tonight. Dad, where are you?” 

Dominic Fanelli hooted from somewhere in the auditorium.

“Hi Dad!” Teresa said. There was more laughter from the crowd. “My father, Dominic, who never graduated from high school and has never felt comfortable in an academic setting, he worked up the courage to ask Miss Merriweather a question at that first parent-teacher conference. This is what he asked: 'Is Teresa stupid, Miss Merriweather?’”

The audience gasped.

“’Is Teresa stupid, Miss Merriweather?’” Teresa repeated the question, and the question seemed to echo in the auditorium as the crowd hushed, hanging on every word. “And Miss Merriweather did not answer my father. She was silent. And her silence spoke volumes.”

Some members of the audience began to boo and hiss.

“I’m not really sure what happened after that, what switch got turned on in my brain. But something happened, and suddenly, I stopped disrupting class. I started doing my homework. Everything became so easy. Multiplication tables? Forget about those. Give me Calculus and Number theory. I can’t say I put in any more effort. I didn’t need to. I did it all, every subject, outpacing all the other students by miles. Some of them really were stupid, of course, so it was a low bar to clear. Are Bobby Haywood’s parents here tonight? You should probably get him checked, if you haven’t already.”

Teresa paused to look down at her notes. “I said I don’t know what happened, but I’ve been thinking more about this since I’ve been at Harvard. I’ve decided Miss Merriweather motivated me to learn, in a strange and horrible way. She thought I was stupid, so I had to prove her wrong. The secret to my success is spite, and I’m here tonight to serve up a full plate of it to my third grade teacher. Tonight, Miss Merriweather, I have the answer to the question my father asked you two years ago.’” 

Teresa rifled through the papers on the podium. She selected one, and waved it in the air. “Here is my answer, Miss Merriweather!” she shouted. “It’s a diploma straight from the President and Fellows of Harvard University!” Half the audience rose to its feet in an ovation. “Again I say, ‘Here is my answer!’”

Raucous applause ensued, and some people pumped their fists in the air. 

“Please sit down! I'm almost done!” Teresa's voice boomed over the noise of the crowd, and they hushed and returned to their seats. “Thank you. As I said, I won’t keep you here all night, but before I go, I would like to share a passage from my thesis, which earned my place at Oxford. It’s titled ‘Shadows of the Invisible: Atmospheric Characterization and Gravitational Waves Constraining Dark Energy.’” Teresa cleared her throat and began reading. “The modern—“

That’s where she stopped, and picked up the pages in both hands and held them close to her face.

“Co—” she began, then stopped and started again. “Co—” she tried a second time, as though she were sounding out a word. She turned around to look at the school staff members seated behind her. “Mr. Fairbanks, can you help me with this word?”

Morton got up from his seat and, crouching low in a futile attempt to go unnoticed, scurried to the podium. “Cosmological,” he said, in a whisper the auditorium’s acoustics sent all the way to the back where Gwen and Patty stood.

“Cosmological,” Teresa repeated the word slowly. “Thank you.” 

Morton returned to his seat.

Teresa began again. “The modern cosmological—” She stopped a third time and a puzzled expression spread on her face. “I don’t know any of these words. I don’t know what any of this means." She turned through the pages, studying each one with care, then suddenly crumped them all into a ball and flung them down on the stage. "Probably something stupid. This whole thing is stupid. Who cares anyway? Is Miss Merriweather still here? This is just like that time she made me stand up in front of class to read my book report. I didn’t read any stupid book.” Her voice rose higher and louder. “Did you do this, too, Miss Merriweather? Did you?” Now she was screaming. “Miss Merriweather! Miss Merriweather!”