First Lady (20 page)

“Coward,” she mumbled, but Lauren drew in a deep breath and marched into the classroom. I’ve interviewed the Pope, for God’s sake. I can do this. She mentally whimpered. I think.

The walls were covered with construction paper collages, posters showing the alphabet in cursive, and brightly colored maps. Row after row of desks was neatly lined up facing a large, clean whiteboard. It was cheerful, though a little overcrowded.

The woman behind the desk, Mrs. Lynch, was nearly 60, with hair dyed a bright reddish color that reminded Lauren of a rusty bucket.
 
Her desk was painfully organized, with the papers on it placed in perfect piles and the pencil can containing pencils all the same length. Ashley’s teacher was short and plump, and her face held a perpetually annoyed look.

“Weren’t you every elementary teacher I ever had?” Lauren asked under her breath, extending her hand and smiling brightly at the woman, who didn’t smile back. “I’m Lauren Strayer. I’m here to talk about Ashley Marlowe.”

Mrs. Lynch studied Lauren for a few seconds before saying, “Hello, Ms. Strayer.” She didn’t take Lauren’s hand.

The reception was so frosty Lauren fought the urge to shiver. Apparently, Mrs. Lynch found something lacking in her. Been there, done that. The more things change, the more they stay the same, Lauren thought wryly.

“Won’t you sit down?” The woman gestured to a chair in front of her desk, before reclaiming her own seat.

Lauren nodded and then nearly fell when she sank down into the midget chair. “Whoa!” Her head was now a full foot lower than Mrs. Lynch’s. “Ugh.” Lauren tried to move, but her rear end was crammed between the arm rails of the child’s seat. “Can you even see me down here?”

Mrs. Lynch was not amused. “I just received a phone call from President Marlowe, sending her regrets and saying that you would be attending in her place.”

Lauren shook her head. God love her, Devlyn was not only a workaholic, she was an anal-retentive one at that. Thank goodness. “The President takes her role in Ashley’s education very seriously, Mrs. Lynch. I hope you know that.”

“And what about you?”

“Me too. Of course,” Lauren said quickly, feeling as though she’d already made a tactical blunder. “I may not be Ashley’s mother, but I do care very much how she does in school.”

Mrs. Lynch smiled briefly, showing off canines that were just a little too pointy.

God, I’ll bet you scare the shit out of the kids. “I’ll do my best to convey everything you say to the President.”

This seemed to perk Mrs. Lynch up a bit. And for a few moments she diligently explained Ashley’s progress in her studies. She showed Lauren several of Ashley’s math papers and drawings from art class, giving Lauren a very good idea of where Ashley needed to work harder and where she was doing quite well.

Lauren quickly became absorbed in the discussion and began rethinking her initial and mostly negative impression of Mrs. Lynch. The woman clearly took Ashley's education very seriously. She forgot to worry about whether she was doing this right as she focused on the task at hand, her nervousness fading with each passing second.

Finally, when it seemed there was no more to talk about, Mrs. Lynch said, “I suppose Ashley explained to you and President Marlowe the shocking disciplinary incident that happened yesterday?”

Lauren’s stomach lurched. Shocking? “Of course,” she lied, after all, maybe Ashley had told Devlyn. “But I’d like to hear things from your perspective, Mrs. Lynch.”

“Of course you would.”

Lauren’s lips thinned.

“Ashley got caught passing notes. Again.” Mrs. Lynch opened her desk drawer and a rank smell wafted from it.

Lauren turned a little green around the gills. “God.”

Mrs. Lynch slammed the drawer shut in irritation, a piece of tattered paper in her hand. “It’s where I keep my tuna sandwiches. The refrigerator in the teacher's lounge broke last spring and there’s no money in the budget to repair it.” She raised her eyebrows at Lauren, who looked back at her blankly.

“That’s too bad,” Lauren finally offered, wondering what Mrs. Lynch expected her to do about it.

Disappointed, Mrs. Lynch thrust out her hand. “Here is the note.”

“Okay…” Lauren said slowly, eyeing the evidence of Ashley’s unknown, dastardly deed warily. “Is it really that bad?”

“Judge for yourself.” Mrs. Lynch sniffed haughtily and shook the many-times folded piece of paper.

Lauren took it and opened it with not a little trepidation. The scrawled letters were large and uneven, though she could see they’d been carefully penned.

Dear John. I desided you can kiss me like you asked. But only on the cheek. If you still want to circle yes or no.

--Ashley

The word yes was circled by a bold heart. Lauren smiled gently when she finished. Oh, Ashley. She re-folded the paper and put it in her pocket, ignoring Mrs. Lynch’s disapproving stare. This didn’t need to go in that permanent record teachers were always talking about. Surely Devlyn would want to keep it.
 
“What seems to be the problem, Mrs. Lynch? This doesn’t seem so horrible. Did they sneak out of class and make out in the coat room or something?” Lauren knew from personal experience that that would get you six weeks' detention.

Mrs. Lynch’s back went ramrod straight. “Of course not!”

Lauren’s eyes narrowed, and she felt her pulse pick up as a horrible thought occurred to her. “Is there any reason to believe this is something other than two kids just being kids? John isn’t another teacher or a janitor or something?”

“Good heavens, no!” Mrs. Lynch looked like she was about to swallow her own tongue. “John is in Ashley’s class. He’s a good boy and excellent student, though Ashley does seem to distract him from his work. It’s not the content of the note that is the problem, Ms. Strayer. That, I assure you, is quite normal.”

Lauren thought she noticed a slight inflection on the word normal, but let it pass, deciding that calling Ashley’s teacher a bitch wouldn’t make the little girl’s school life any better. “Then what?”

“It’s what Ashley did after I read it to the class that was highly problematic.”

Lauren’s face hardened, and her gray eyes glinted with sudden anger. “After you did what?”

The look on Lauren’s face caused Mrs. Lynch to involuntarily flinch. “I know it seems harsh, but—”

“You read this in front of everyone?”

Mrs. Lynch lifted her chin defiantly. “It’s my policy to share notes. It discourages children from passing them.”

Lauren felt her temper rising fast. “So your policy is to embarrass children as a method of discipline? Do you make slow children wear dunce caps as well? Or do you just brand them with a big D?”

Mrs. Lynch’s face turned brick red. “I have been teaching in this God forsaken city for 40 years, Ms. Strayer. I have 39 students in my class. I have to keep—”

“What you have to do is teach these kids and treat them with respect,” Lauren snapped. “Mrs. Lynch,” she ground out, “I’m not a member of the local school board. You can take your complaints about your refrigerator and class sizes to them. I’m here for Ashley. She is who I’m concerned with.” Lauren forced herself to take a slow, deep breath. “What happened after you read the note?”

Mrs. Lynch licked her lips. “Well… She grew very upset while I was reading it and asked me to stop, which I couldn’t do. If I did it for her I’d have to do it for the other children. Just because she’s the President’s daughter doesn’t mean she gets special treatment.” She looked away briefly before unflinchingly meeting Lauren’s eyes. “Then she began to cry.”

Lauren’s hands shaped into twin fists. “And,” she prodded in voice far calmer than she felt.

“And then she called me an inappropriate name.”

“Was it bitch?”

Mrs. Lynch gasped. “No!”

Lauren gave her a false smile. “Go on.”

“It was,” Mrs. Lynch paused for effect, “‘battle axe.’”

Lauren rolled her eyes. “That’s the big trauma?”

“She said it in front of the entire class!” Mrs. Lynch defended hotly. “What sort of showing of respect is that? She should be setting an example.”

“You read her private note to the entire class,” Lauren shot back. “Maybe she’s learning to be respectful from you?” With a grunt, she pried her butt out of the tiny chair and leaned forward until she was nose to nose with the teacher. “I don’t know if it makes you happy to make little girls cry, but I do know this. Lady, you are a battle axe.” She pinned Mrs. Lynch with a fierce glare. “What Ashley did was wrong. What you did was worse.”

She leaned even closer. “Our conversation today had better not have a negative effect on the way you treat Ashley. She’s a good kid who doesn’t deserve your contempt.” Abruptly, Lauren picked up the folder that contained Ashley’s school papers. “Are we finished?”

Mrs. Lynch was too stunned to speak.

“Looks like we are.” Without another word, Lauren strode out of the room, giving the next two waiting parents a grim smile as she passed them. She could see Ashley and Amy waiting on a bench at the end of the hallway, and Brendan quietly fell in step behind her, communicating their location status to the other agents.

Lauren could see Ashley looked pale and frightened. She stopped in front of the little girl, who refused to meet her stare. “Ashley,” she said quietly.

Ashley glanced up, her soft brown eyes brimming with tears. “She read it to everyone.” Her voice cracked, and so did Lauren’s heart.

The blonde woman crouched down and silently opened her arms to Ashley.

The girl flew into them and began mumbling her apologies between her sobs.

“Shh… It’s okay.”

“Every… everybody la… laughed.”

“I know, sweetie. That wasn’t very nice.” Lauren kissed the top of Ashley’s head and hugged her as tightly as she dared. She let Ashley cry for several moments before she gently pushed her away and wiped wet cheeks with tender fingers.
 
“You know you shouldn’t have been passing notes in school, right?” Intently, she studied Ashley’s face.

Ashley nodded, relieved that Lauren hadn’t mentioned the note’s content.

“And that no matter how utterly and completely fitting the name battle axe might be,” she smiled and Ashley let out a surprised burst of laughter, smiling back, “you’re not allowed to say things like that to anyone. Much less a teacher. Even if they deserve it.” Her voice turned serious. “Got me, darlin’?”

Ashley sniffed and the tension drained from her body, leaving her as limp as dish rag. “Got you. I apologized after I said it.”

Lauren gazed at her in understanding. “I figured you did.” She gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then straightened and wrapped her arm around slender shoulders. Okay, so she hadn’t handled the teacher as well as she could have. But she still felt a little proud of herself. Ashley seemed to feel better, and the girl knew she’d done something wrong. So the afternoon wasn’t a complete bust. "Do you want me to talk to your mama about you going to a different class?"

"No!" The girl looked a little panicky. "I like my class."

Lauren wasn't surprised. Ashley didn't seem reluctant to attend classes, as she herself had been.
 
"Is Mrs. Lynch a good teacher, Ashley?"

Ashley thought about that for a second before nodding. "Except when she reads notes out loud," she added sullenly.

An indulgent smile twitched at the corners of Lauren's lips. "That was pretty rotten." She signed. "Honey, your teacher does a hard job under tough conditions. Maybe she was just having a bad day. I know it seems impossible, but teachers are people too and everyone can have a bad day and make bad choices." She lifted an eyebrow. "Like passing notes in class instead of paying attention." In truth, that was more charitable towards Mrs. Lynch than Lauren wanted to be. But Ashley was a child inclined to forgive easily, and she didn't want to influence that with her own opinion.

Ashley winced. "I understand. I guess."

Lauren ruffled the girl's dark hair. "Good."

“Lauren?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you going to tell Mom?”

Lauren cringed as she thought back to her own harsh words. “I don’t want to.”

“Yes!” Ashley pumped her fist in the air.

The cringe intensified. “But I think I have to.”

Ashley's face fell, but she didn’t seem surprised.

They all started for the car and were greeted with a blast of cool air that smelled like wet grass. It was still raining and shallow puddles had formed on the sidewalk, snaking their way into the schoolyard. Two of the agents popped open umbrellas and held them over Lauren and Ashley.

“Don’t worry, honey,” Lauren said, “before I tell her anything I intend to bribe your mother.” Kisses. Backrubs. Oh, yeah, this could be good.

Ashley’s face wrinkled in confusion. “For me?”

Lauren snorted. “Nuh uh. For me. You’ve got that short, adorable kid thing going. I, on the other hand, need all the help I can get.”

The agents all rolled their eyes and sniggered.

“What?” Lauren complained, taking off her wet glasses and stuffing them in her blazer pocket. “I do.”