As she tugged the sleep mask from her eyes, Phoenix’s first thought was that her sick leave had now officially expired. Over a decade of high-school teaching and a work ethic that propelled her to never let anyone down had resulted in a cumulated forty days’ worth of leave. But now they were all gone. Pecking at her phone, she discovered the anticipated email notification. There she was, right on cue – Evelyn Godfrey, fearsome principal.
Phoenix always fancied that Evelyn could have starred in the likes of a Roald Dahl children’s book, with her piercing, interrogative eyes, unnerving ability to materialise from shadows, and a robust intolerance of any perceived weakness – from parents, students or teachers.
The principal had been ‘pulled off the bench’ at the beginning of the school year as an emergency (and entirely opposite) replacement for Levi Backhurst, a young and progressive-minded principal with a meteoric rise to the top, followed by a spectacular fall from grace over a buck’s night incident involving underage strippers and a pocket full of pills. The media had cashed in on the clickbait for weeks and Evelyn had made it her personal mission to restore St Clementine’s to a conservative, squeaky-clean, top-shelf girls’ school of choice. And, as she repeatedly told staff and students alike, nothing would stand in her way.
Phoenix debated whether or not to open Evelyn’s email now and get it over with, or put it off till later. She reached behind herself to click on the string of LED-light sunflowers adorning the crest of her bedhead, optimistic that their golden glow could shield her from the darkness she sensed was lurking in that message. If she didn’t do it now, she would pace all day. Holding her breath, she tapped it open…
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