by Writing Shark
Infil
‘To find the best in yourself, to make your own way, to fill yourself with pride’. That’s what it says in big letters above the entrance to the Hayworth Academy for Exceptional Girls. Arbeit macht frei, the professor thinks to himself, hiding his thoughts behind a warm but shy smile directed to the woman waiting for him under the stonern archway.
“I see you have already noticed our motto” the woman in her mid-fifties greets the man and extends her hand to him. The two approach each other briefly and efficiently. Time is money at Hayworth. “Follow me.” It’s the first time the professor has stepped through the academy’s gate, a step behind the woman, of course, and a half-body-width sideways. The brief but intense interview had taken place in another location. ‘To keep the academy pure,’ she had said. Nowhere else would she have gotten away with such slogans but the renowned Hayworth Academy has the best credentials and the woman is Miss Samantha Hayworth in person! “Do you have the latest paperwork?” asks the woman who runs this school without turning around.
“Of course ma’am” the professor confirms quickly and hands the neatly folded slips of paper forward without delay. Miss Hayworth nods with satisfaction.
“I take it you don’t like to disappoint Mister Clark?”
“No ma’am.” Another nod, again noted satisfied.
“That’s why I picked you. I hope you are aware of the privilege you hold as a man to be here?” Her voice is friendly and calm as a mountain lake but danger lurks beneath.
“I am ma’am, thank you again for giving me this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” The submissive tone has an effect and Samantha Hayworth loosens a bit, even half-turning to the professor.
“Well, I also have to admit that your credentials are exactly what I was looking for.” The professor nods eagerly as the two walk across the vast green spaces of the grounds. Their destination is a large building made of steel, concrete and glass that stands in the middle of the gigantic complex. “You can’t imagine how hard it was to find someone with your résumé who could also say more than two coherent words in a row.” Miss Hayworth laughs in amusement but the professor remains quiet.
“Indeed I can ma’am. I’ve served with most of the men you reviewed. I’m glad you picked me”
“I see.” The two adults stride up the entrance steps of the Academy’s main building. At the top, Miss Hayworth turns again and points to the grounds. “After your last places of assignment, this academy must seem like heaven on earth to you” she smiles kindly and there is even some humanity behind her features. Professor Clark follows her sweeping gesture. Hayworth Academy is located in a wide stretch of woods, a few miles outside the city skirts. Mountains begin a few miles away, and the wildness of the landscape is easy to see. The academy grounds, on the other hand, are neat and clean in stark contrast. Trimmed trees, bright pathways, green lawns and fountains grace the grounds between the buildings.
“Very impressive,” the professor truthfully admits.
“We have an indoor swimming pool, a sports center, two coffee bars, several outdoor facilities, also for sports and recreation, four teaching buildings and six residential buildings. It’s all there to teach and learn out here in peace and quiet.” Now the school principal sounds really proud. “The Hayworth is my first child, Mister Clark,” says the blonde woman with motherly pride. Her bust is highlighted by her tight-fitting business suit and her hair is tied in a short braid held in place with hair clips. Nothing about her body looks casual to the professor and her getup reminds him somewhat of his time in the troops. Everything where it should be to perfect the look and ensure maximum efficiency. The only difference is the purpose of their uniforms. Smiling, Samantha leads the professor into her inner sanctum.
“Are the numbers I was given still correct?” Professor Clark wants to know.
“But of course. One thousand two hundred and eleven students, none more, none less.” Samantha laughs again, this time not so heartily. “Don’t worry about the turnover here at the Academy. Those who come to Hayworth, stay at Hayworth. We make it cost something to get the brightest, best and most talented girls in the country here, and I don’t let them be poached from us by other schools.” Miss Hayworth does not see the professor’s smile.
“Very good ma’am. I would hate to see my talents wasted on girls who don’t have the will to make the best of themselves.”
“That’s not going to happen Mr. Clark.” The professor doesn’t mind that Miss Hayworth doesn’t address him by his title. He has yet to earn that privilege as a man here. “I wouldn’t have hired you if I hadn’t made sure we were the only institution with an experienced frontline soldier in our ranks, and if any of our little angels don’t appreciate that, we’ll set them straight.” It is almost enough for the professor to get a new, better picture of his boss. Almost. The thoughts of the two adults are soon interrupted by a shrill ringing and Miss Hayworth’s posture changes almost imperceptibly but clearly if one knows what to look for. “Ah!” she makes joyfully, but tenses and stretches out her back even a little more than before. “Then let us present our little angels.”
The two are walking down a corridor on both sides of which almost all the doors open at the same time. A sea of uniforms in blue and white pours into the hallway and the laughter, gossip and whispering of dozens of girls fills the air. With the majesty of a mother lioness, Miss Hayworth strides unconcernedly down the hallway, the professor always behind her. A bubble forms around the two of them into which none of the girls dares to enter as the stream rolls through the corridor. Inwardly, the professor grins as he notices the glances of the girls. Some of them eye him furtively, others stumble or collide with the preceding student, others openly gawk at the academy’s only male professor.
“It seems to me that you have already arrived” quips Samantha, thinking herself funny. The professor also grins but for a different reason.
“Only unexpected facts spread faster than rumors ma’am” he says aloud, eyeing some of the girls who quickly turn their heads away under his gaze. It takes a few more minutes for the principal to show her new employee around the large building. Meanwhile, the students gather in the cafeteria for lunch. Samantha leads the professor up one floor to a large door.
“As you can imagine, the running of this academy requires my full attention.”
“Of course ma’am, thank you so much for taking the time to see me anyway.”
“Of course.” A lie. “Let’s conclude the tour with your new assistant.” With these words Miss Hayworth opens the door and leads Professor Clark through a small room in which there is only a desk, a chair and a PC. The only decoration on the white walls consists of some shelves filled with books and documents.
“This is your assistant’s office” the older lady explains and waves the professor on to the next room where there are already three women. They stand in a neat row in the middle of the room, arms folded behind their backs and looking straight ahead. Before he looks at them, Mr. Clark looks around the room. “This is your office, next door is the teachers’ lounge for this building. And this…” she points to the three women. “Is your selection.” She falters briefly and frowns, but then shakes her head. Samantha is already catching her breath to continue her explanation with her bosom straining to burst her tight corset but is then interrupted by the door to the hallway flying open.
“Excuse me!” a bright voice eagerly sounds across the room as a petite figure flies past the professor and gets in line next to the three other women. The professor has to grin but it goes unnoticed next to the director’s angry hiss.
“Be that as it may…” she says and starts again, but not without scathingly eyeing the newly arrived woman. This is Miss Dalton and Miss Penn, our best in Politics and History. I thought you might appreciate their help,” Miss Hayworth says, pointing to two ladies who are about the same age as her, perhaps a little older. The professor nods kindly to the ladies but his eyes immediately move on to the other two women. One of them, the one who was already waiting for him in the room, looks at him with hidden curiosity. The other, the one who has arrived late, is still quite out of breath and doesn’t notice him at all. “This is Miss Haselton, our best trainee teacher,” Miss Hayworth proudly introduces her subordinate. The professor nods and Miss Haselton returns the greeting, but then is a little surprised at the outstretched hand, but then quickly returns the gesture.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Professor,” she says in a soft voice, pulling in her lower lip a little. A familiar reaction to a man like him, Professor Clark thinks, especially among women who live as secluded as this one. The headmistress had already informed him that the Academie holds enough space for all its girls, making sure all of them would have the pleasure of staying in this place of culture and wisdom. Good for the professor as well. Then his eyes wander sideways to the second woman who only now realizes he is standing directly in front of her.
“And this,” Samantha says dismissively, “is Miss Combton. Her… qualities you have already had the opportunity to admire.” Miss Combton brushes a strand of her hair behind her ear. Her outfit is a bit of a mess, the blue knee-length skirt fitting in with the local schoolgirls, but the dotted blouse drawing angry glances from the other ladies. Her hair is also only messily tied into a long ponytail and her large glasses hang crookedly on her nose. The man suppresses a grin.
“Sorry I’m late Miss…” Then Miss Combtons eyes fall on Professor Clark and for the first time that day the man is surprised by something. He didn’t expect such a violent reaction but the young woman seems to almost faint as she looks at the man. She turns white as a sheet and chokes on something that isn’t there. Coughing, she leans forward and attracts the attention of everyone in the room. As Miss Hayworth taps her foot impatiently, the professor gently places a hand on the woman’s shoulder. First once, then twice, then three times, he pats her firmly on the back until the woman’s coughing fit subsides. The professor notices that the older women are looking at the young student teacher almost angrily, or at least reproachfully, but the other young woman, Miss Haselton, is looking at her benevolently.
“Are you okay?” the professor asks, almost laughing as he looks into a bright red face of a woman staring at him from teary red eyes. This is too easy.
“Yes…” coughs the teacher-in-training.
“Now pull yourself together young lady” Miss Hayworth hisses, bringing the addressed woman to her senses. “We don’t have all day.” Miss Combton nods eagerly and then manages to get back in line. Now the professor can take a closer look at the four women but given the fact that Miss Combton is trembling slightly under his gaze the decision is easy for him.
“I would like to work with Miss Combton,” he says kindly.
“What?” asks Miss Combton.
“What?” asks Miss Haywort. Then she clears her throat. “If that’s the way you want it, I’ll leave her to you.” The older woman claps her hands vigorously. “You heard the man ladies.” Along with the three other women, Samantha turns to leave. Miss Haselton puts her hand on Miss Combton’s shoulder one last time. The young lady who will work under the professor from now on looks as if she has been run over by a car and can’t get a word out. Not even when the door closes behind the other women and she is alone with Professor Clark does she manage to open her mouth despite the words from her superior to taking care of the newest professor of the Academy. She just looks dumbly at the floor, making it easy for the professor to hide his grin.
“So…Miss Combton. Do you have a first name too?” the professor finally asks while pacing through his new office.
“F-Felicia Professor. Felicia Combton.” Slowly, the young woman is able to lift her gaze and watch the professor take in his new office.
“So Felicia…” he begins and a shiver runs down the young lady’s spine. “How long until our next class?” Felicia doesn’t answer. “I don’t like having to ask something twice Miss Combton.” Felicia nods eagerly, already taking in her first mistake.
“Sorry professor. Twenty minutes.” Then the student-teacher flinches as the man in the room claps his hands loudly.
“Enough time to get me settled in here,” he says almost happily. “Now don’t stand there Felica” he calls encouragingly but with some mockery in his voice. “Get moving and get my things out of my car.” He tosses the woman his car keys but Felicia clumsily drops them. Over the man’s quiet giggles, she bends down and picks up the keys, showing him her backside unwantedly, then hurries out of the room.
Writing Shark 