Dean P

Alice pushed her unruly hair back nervously. In three years she had been called to the Head Mistress twice. That was bad enough. The Dean’s office was terrifying. She shifted on the hard bench and stared at the framed parchment with fancy Latin script. It was better than staring at the forbidding oak door.

She could make out a word here and there of the energetic conversation on the other side of the door, mostly from the sharp voice of her teacher. Her heart started beating faster when the talking stopped. She was about to be summoned. Alice thought about opening the door behind her and running down the hall and away, but she knew she had no place to go.

The door opened. “Send her in. You may leave.” Alice had never heard the Dean before, and her voice made Alice shiver.

“I should be here to explain the symptoms,” objected Dr. Franklin.

“I will not require explanations,” the icy voice said. “Send her in alone.”

Dr. Franklin gave in and left. He held the door for Mistress Coldwell and Alice’s teacher Mistress Beringer. Her teacher stopped halfway through the door and gently lifted Alice’s elbow. “Go on in now.”

Alice stood and her three accusers left. The outer door closed. She could hear the three waiting outside in the hall. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and walked slowly into the inner office.

“Close the door behind you and sit down,” the Dean commanded.

As she turned to close the door Alice got her first look at the wall and its rows and rows of books; books with grim titles like Economic Influences on Transmission and colorful books like Grimm’s Fairy Tales and Tales from the Cloud-Walking Country.

Without thinking she moved closer to the bookcase.

The voice behind her shocked her back to her predicament. “Ahem!” It didn’t sound quite as stern as before, but perhaps that was wishful thinking. Alice quickly closed the door. It shut with an ominous click. She sat in the furthest chair, smoothed out her mud-stained skirt, and finally dared to look at Dean P.

The Dean seemed taller in person. She wore a dark green suit and her just-turning-grey hair was pinned in a tight bun. She looked like Alice imagined a judge should look.

“Tell me what happened.” She had a folder open on the desk in front of her, and a sharp pencil in her hand. The harsh glare of the dry spring’s sun stretched across her desk like a barrier of fire.

“Must I?” Alice begged.

“Yes.”

“Do you know the cave in the steep side of the hill?”

“Yes.”

“I went in there to hide and then it wasn’t a cave anymore.” Alice went on to tell about the lake and the elves and the dark cloud and the wind-walkers. She stared in the Dean’s analyzing eyes, looking for signs of sympathy. She grew excited during the telling, almost forgetting her situation.

The pencil snapped, and Alice, startled, looked at the Dean’s clenched hands. The Dean eyed the ruined pencil and threw the relic in the waste bin.

The Dean leaned forward. The sunlight lit her face and the pins in her bun shone like gems. “Do you have family nearby?”

“I’ve an uncle in Hampshire.”

“That’s right; you’re an orphan,” she replied slowly. “So was I. I was older than you, but it was still hard—and I lost my brothers and sister too.” She considered a moment.

It had never occurred to Alice that the Dean had parents, or had ever been young. She tried to imagine the Dean as a third year.

The Dean went on, “Do you have a friend you can trust?”

“Jenny is my best friend.”

“Will Jenny believe you if you tell her your story?”

“Maybe.” Alice paused. “I think so.”

“Jennifer Hopkind is a sound child. Tell her. And tell no-one else.”

“Am I in trouble, then?”

“Not the kind you are thinking of. For now, go to class, tell Jennifer, and always …”

“Always Do Right,” they recited the school motto together. Alice had the sudden sense that that might sometimes be harder than she dreamed.

“You may go now, child.” Alice jumped to her feet to leave, and to take one more look at those fascinating books.

As Alice opened the door, the Dean said “One more thing.”

“Yes, m’am?”

“If Jenny does not believe you, send her to me.” The Dean’s regal smile went with Alice, but Alice thought she heard “Too old, too old,” muttered behind the closing door.