Ozgood Blatherton was a small, rotund man, with a florid complexion and heavy horn-rimmed glasses. He spoke in a dignified, pompous manner that sounded oddly in the high-pitched tones of his voice. He wore heavy woolen suits with matching vests no matter what the time of year, and at the moment, his suit jacket was unbuttoned and he was leaning back in his office chair, thumbs hooked in the arm sockets of his vest. It was Monday afternoon and school was just over, but across from him sat his sex education teacher, Miss Frazer.
"More complaints from the parents," he was saying to her in his most professional dignity. "That committee headed by Mr. amp; Mrs. Conroy has passed a petition this time, threatening court action if we continue the sex education course."
"I hope… I hope it isn't because of something I've done," Joan said to him. She prayed that any anxiety which might be showing on her face would be passed off as concern for the class, rather than betraying the hidden guilt which was still festering from her sordid episode with young Wayne. "I've tried to stay strictly within the guidelines you've set," she added.
"No, no, it's not you, Miss Frazer," Blatherton said, waving his hand in a gesture of unconcern. "Or rather, it's only the fact that you're the one teaching it. I'm afraid the subject is simply an emotion-causing matter over the heads of whomever considers himself a thinker in Montock."
"Perhaps we should tone it down a little," Joan suggested, remembering the erotic quality of the last film she'd shown.
"Wouldn't dream of it, my dear, wouldn't dream of it." The principal smiled, causing his dentures to slip a little. With a quick maneuver of his thick lips, he absentmindedly restored them into place. "Sex education must continue as it's been going. I merely wanted to warn you that greater pressure may be exerted on you, ah… personally, if you know what I mean."
"Personally?"
"That is… since the class itself cannot be stopped, the people who are against it might attempt to prove its instructor is ah… unfit to teach it."
"Mr. Blatherton! I assure you that I conduct myself above reproach in Montock!" Joan stared at him with all the righteous indignation she could muster, a sinking feeling deep in her belly as she thought of what Agnew Conroy would do if he found out his son had made love to her. God! She'd be crucified!
"Don't misunderstand me, Miss Frazer," Blatherton said hastily. "I'm sure you're a very moral person, and I can certainly say that I've never heard a single word against you. I merely want to warn that no matter how blameless you might be, this… this committee might not be above spreading unfounded but damaging rumors."
"Mr. Blatherton," Joan said primly, "I hadn't expected the assignment to be easy when I accepted it. I will ignore any crude talk that may be directed my way… as I'm sure you will as well."
Within her heart a small spark of hope rapidly flared and she thought, even if Wayne does talk, Mr. Blatherton will think it's all part of an attempt to discredit me!
"That's the spirit of a true educator," the principal beamed behind his thick glasses. "I'm very proud of how you're handling this more than difficult situation, and I…" He paused frowning slightly as he studied her features. "Why, Miss Frazer you look white as a sheet. Have I upset you that much?"
"Oh… no, no Mr. Blatherton. It's just that I… I haven't been feeling very well all day."
"Oh dear," he said, almost apologetically. "The flu has been going around now that winter's over. Perhaps you've come down with a touch of that, do you think?"
"Yes… Yes, I'm sure that's what it must be."
"Well, then we'll make this meeting short today, my dear. You get right home and pop into bed." Blatherton advised, looking around as if he were determining if any of her germs were coming his way. "Yes, that'll be all for today, Miss Frazer. Dismissed!"
Joan left his office and walked down the now deserted halls of Montock High to the exit. Her little Volkswagen was the only car left in the parking lot, all the other teachers and students having left the moment the last bell had rung; and Joan went quickly to her car, nervous to leave the school behind. She climbed in and turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened! The car's starter cranked, but the engine wouldn't run! Joan didn't know the first thing about how an engine worked, and she was mystified that her car should suddenly stop operating after it had run so well to the school that morning. Puzzled, she got out and stared at it a moment, then sat back down inside it and tried again. Still nothing!
Now the perplexed woman teacher was feeling irritated. Tight-lipped she locked the car and looked all around her, wondering what she should do to get home. She could go ask Mr. Blatherton for a ride home, but she knew that he usually stayed until six o'clock or later, and she didn't want to wait around until then. Moreover, she really didn't wish to hear any more about her sex education class and the smearing gossip which he'd indicated she could expect. She wanted to get back to her apartment and a fresh bottle of brandy to still the aching thoughts which had been tormenting her since last Wednesday.
The only solution was to walk, she supposed. The fastest way, she knew, would be through Ebenezer Treakle's property, a diagonal line that would bring her to the back edge of Montock where her rooming house was, rather than the much longer route along the road. Farmer Treakle didn't mind if people crossed his land, as that particular section wasn't under cultivation at the moment and only contained a few old milk cows. Besides, it was another beautiful spring afternoon, balmy and bright with the promise of Easter, and the walk would probably do her good.
Resigning herself, Joan smoothed her hands down over the thin pullover sweater and short pleated skirt she was wearing, then took a deep breath and headed for the edge of the school property. From there, a narrow dirt path, bordered by knee-high grass and wild-flowers, wound lazily through Treakle's pasture land. Returning robins chirped sprightly in a few trees which clustered here and there on the rolling meadowside, and occasionally Joan caught the rustle of grass or whipping of a branch to show where some small animal had darted. Soon she found herself beyond the sight of the tall school buildings or any nearby houses. It was as if she was entirely alone in a world of nothing but peaceful nature, and as she strolled along the pathway, the worried young woman began to feel a little more relaxed and calm.
God knew she needed soothing, she told herself as she walked. Last Thursday and Friday had been a continual living nightmare for her, plagued by the fear that she'd run into young Wayne Conroy and he would do or say something ruinous in a moment of boyish innocence. Monday hadn't been any better, especially after a weekend spent cooped up in her small apartment with nothing but her morbid thoughts to taunt her constantly. But the Conroy lad had thankfully remained out of sight, though Joan didn't know whether it was accidental luck or purposely done by him. She only prayed that their paths would not cross for another day until Wednesday's sex education course, the only class she taught which had him in it. Hopefully by that time, they would both be able to act as if nothing had happened between them. She wasn't sure she could do that yet; she wasn't sure she could find the bravery necessary then to face that seventh-period hour of hell…
And Ozgood Blatherton's little lecture hadn't helped any, that was for sure! God, listening to him warn of the impending threat of the Concerned Parents Committee had indeed sent the blood rushing from her head and turned her features pale as a ghost's. Her stomach tightened itself into knots as she walked and remembered her own school days when both boys and girls would brag of their sexual conquests: whether they'd actually done them or not. High schools were rampant with snickering stories and dirty rumors, but this time she realized she wouldn't have a chance to defend herself. She could deny her seduction of the boy until she was blue in the face, but the witch-hunting citizens would latch onto the malicious talk like wolves upon a sheep. The school authorities would think it was a lie, but they'd be the only ones who believed. All young Wayne would have to do is say one small word, and she'd be lucky to get out of Montock alive!