He gave them the usual reform pitch, the one all the new jerks gave, only he sounded as if he meant it. He sounded, in fact, as if he dared anyone to doubt that he meant it. This was not good at all. This was miserable. This was a bad way to start out. How were you supposed to enjoy school when you got a guy like this one for principal? How were you supposed to learn anything?
And then Small got around to the attempted rape. He lowered his voice, and the kids sitting up front saw that he also narrowed his eyes and tightened his lips.
“There was an unfortunate incident here on the first day of school,” he said. The kids had all been silent before this, but the room seemed to grow even more hushed, as if all breathing had suddenly stopped. Sitting in the back of the auditorium with his official class. Rick sucked in a deep breath. The heads were beginning to turn already, a few at a time, spreading across rows, racing through the packed auditorium like a petroleum blaze. They turned in two directions, as if the blaze were fanned by cross-currents of wind, one half turning toward Rick where he sat, and the other half swiveling to catch a look at Miss Hammond.
“One of our boys decided he was out in the streets,” Small said, ignoring the twisting heads and craning necks. “The boy’s name was Douglas Murray.”
It was out now. Douglas Murray. And there were kids who’d known Murray, and there were kids who’d liked Murray, and the entire rape had suddenly assumed a very personal aspect. If it happened to Murray, who was just one of the guys, why couldn’t it happen to any one of them? You get bastards like Dadier fouling up the detail, and you get a hot-shot like Small who condones such horse manure, and next thing you knew they’d all be in reform school. The kids leaned forward eagerly, turning all their attention to Small again. This was no laughing matter. This was something of vital importance to all of them.
“One of our teachers stopped the incident from becoming a disastrous one,” Small said, casually ignoring the fact that every kid in the auditorium knew the “incident” was an attempted rape. “Douglas Murray may be a little sorry he stepped out of line. Criminal assault charges have been pressed against him. I think you all know what that means.”
They all knew, all right. They all knew that this didn’t mean reform school. They mentally calculated Murray’s age, and they figured this for a prison rap, if anything, and all because the poor bastard tried to cop a feel. And all because Dadier had stepped in and made like a goddamned hero.
“I’m telling you this story,” Small went on, “to illustrate an important point.” He paused, and then roared, “I WILL STAND FOR NO NONSENSE IN MY SCHOOL, IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?”
The kids caught their breaths collectively, and Small’s voice dropped to almost a whisper.
“No nonsense at all. None. Never. We took care of Douglas Murray, and we’ll take care of anyone who steps out of line. Remember that, boys, because we’ll all be a whole lot happier if you do. And you’ll be a whole lot sadder if you don’t.”
Rick’s hands were trembling. He clenched them in his lap, and bit his lip, and then stopped biting his lip when he realized the boys in his official class were watching him. He sensed hostility from them, and he wondered if Small had done the right thing in calling attention to what had happened. Certainly, enough attention had been called to it before this.
Small’s manner suddenly changed. He was no longer the tyrant addressing his peasant multitude. He was a nice guy now, a master of ceremonies at a stag smoker.
“Boys,” he said, smiling, “we’re going to get along fine. I’ve taught at schools before, plenty of them, but I’ve never felt so good as I do about being appointed principal here. This is going to be a fine term, and we’re going to make it one of the best in the school’s history.” He shrugged sadly, his eyes becoming dolorous. “We’ve had a bad start, but the teams that win the pennants very often have bad starts.” He clenched his right fist and leaned out over the microphone. “North Manual Trades High School is going to win a pennant, boys!” He chuckled and then said conspiratorially, “What’s more, fellows, we’ll probably win the Series.”
The boys did not applaud. They did not move. This big bastard may think he’s Milton Berle, they were thinking, but he’s not fooling us, not one bit. We know he’s a louse, and we’ve got him pegged, and we’re going to watch him because he’s liable to stick a knife in our backs while he’s patting us there. And Dadier... well, we’ll see about our good friend Daddy-oh, the tough guy.
So the colors were carried out, and the assembly was dismissed, and since the day was shot anyway, what with shortened periods in order to give all the boys a chance to meet Small at two separate assemblies, there wasn’t much time left for teaching. The school term, for all practical purposes, did not start until Thursday morning, even though it had started with a considerable bang several days before that.
And it was on Thursday, at precisely 2:07 in the morning, that Rick started evaluating his position. He and Anne had talked until almost one-thirty, lying in bed and conversing in whispers, almost as if they were not the only two people in the apartment. She had seemed terribly distressed about the incident, and she had not liked Small’s handling of it at all. She firmly pronounced that the new principal must be a very stupid man, and she hoped his little speech hadn’t started Rick off on the wrong foot, together with the Series-winning school.
She had also exhibited a womanlike contempt for Miss Hammond, blaming her for not wearing sackcloth and ashes to a teaching job in a school like that. Even after Rick explained that Miss Hammond hadn’t been dressed flashily at all, Anne still held to the theory that no woman gets raped or nearly raped unless she’s looking for it.
Rick did not pause to analyze the psychology of the pregnant woman. It had not occurred to him that pregnancy was a complete paradox. It was paradoxical in that only the female of the species could perform the amazing feat, while perhaps being less psychologically prepared for it than a male would have been. No woman enjoys the sight of sagging breasts and a bulging stomach, no matter how maternal her urge. A woman’s good looks are a woman’s good looks, and there is little good-looking about a pregnant woman.
Rick did not know that his wife had stood before the full-length mirror in the bathroom, sometimes for half-hours on end, studying her profile and wagging her head in sad, amazed wonder. She could not be blamed, therefore, for feeling some contempt for the woman who had plunged Rick into his present predicament. Such contempt was only normal. This Miss Hammond was slim. This Miss Hammond’s breasts were not tender to the touch, nor did they feel like heavy stones. This Miss Hammond did not have a constant backache, nor was the skin on her stomach stretching like a bloated balloon. This Miss Hammond did not have to stand before a full length mirror and drape a towel from chin to toes over a mountainous fetus in order to remember what she’d once looked like.
No. Miss Hammond had been sufficiently attractive to provoke a rape. Anne had heard of pregnant women being raped, but she doubted very much if she could arouse any rampant male interest at this late stage of the motherhood game. So whereas she looked forward to the new addition with an almost childlike expectancy, she still possessed a woman’s eye, and she could not trick that woman’s eye into thinking all was well in the state of Denmark, or even in the state of her expanding middle.
That Rick had performed gallantly was another matter entirely. She’d have been surprised if he hadn’t. But that a slender, attractive, rape-provoking woman had been the cause of his gallantry — well, this did not sit too happily in her lactating breast. Especially if it led to trouble for Rick, and it showed every indication of doing just that.