Mrs. C by S. P. Perone

Author:S. P. Perone [Perone, S. P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781532029011
Publisher: iUniverse
Published: 2017-08-08T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Heart-to-heart

I stumbled into the office and moved toward the chair behind the desk, keeping my eyes on the young elf seated in front. I recognized her immediately.

It was Margaret.

And the tiny redhead’s eyes told me she was in some distress.

From behind the desk I wanted to cry out, what is going on? But instead, I directed a query at the petite character under duress. “Margaret, sweetie, what’s wrong?” I asked.

The eyes turned red, and I thought tears might appear. Her words flowed haltingly, with the lilting Irish brogue more pronounced than ever. “I … I’m so sorry … so sorry to come to you, Mrs. Claus, but I don’t … I don’t know what to do.”

Without thinking, I rushed around to the front of the desk and knelt beside her. “What is it?” I asked, taking one of her tiny hands in mine.

She looked away. “I … I’ve never said anything before,” she murmured. “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.” Then she turned to me. “Will I get someone in trouble if I tell you?”

“Honestly, Margaret, I don’t know. Can you give me an idea of what it is?”

She bit her lip; thought a moment; and then caught my eyes. “Someone’s been hurting me.”

Without thinking, my gaze left her eyes and rapidly scanned her from head to toe. Catching my concern, she said quickly, “No, not like that. I mean other ways. With words and things.”

“Oh,” I said, with some relief.

“But it hurts just as bad. Worse,” she insisted.

“I know, sweetie. I know. Words can hurt much more than anything.” I paused, hoping she would open up.

When she remained silent for a few moments, I said, “You don’t have to tell me who. But please tell me what he or she is doing?” Then, as an afterthought, I asked, “Is it only one person?”

“Uh huh,” she murmured.

“Is it a boy or girl?”

“Boy.”

“What does he say to you?”

She began to pull away, as if to leave the chair. “I shouldn’t talk about—” she muttered.

“Yes, you should,” I insisted, grasping her hands to prevent her from getting up.

She bowed her head and said nothing for a few moments. Then she looked up into my eyes. “Please tell me what to do.”

I pulled up a chair next to her and let her begin to talk. A cloudburst of short, painful phrases spewed forth. And as she talked, a picture of her tormentor slowly emerged. I knew who it was now.

When she finished, I leaned toward her and said, “Margaret, you are absolutely right. These things are hurtful.” Then I leaned back in the chair and cocked my head. “But let’s take a closer look.”

“At what?”

“You said he snubs you when you’re with friends. But he calls you names to these same friends when you’re not around. What do you think that means?”

“He’s trying to hurt my feelings.”

“Mmmm, I don’t think so.”

“Well, he does.”

I smiled at her. “Yes, Margaret, but that’s not his intent.”

A painful knot grew between her eyes. “But what about the dirty looks in class? The times he makes fun of my words? He scares me.

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