“What was the duration of your leave supposed to be? Two months. Two. Not six. You realize, of course, that you’re through here. And have been for a while. But”—the finger made a circular motion—“I forgive you. Do you know why? Because I like you. And I understand why you decided to scram. Why is it that I understand? Because that’s the kind of person I am. Caring and understanding.”
Ralph relaxed and stretched his legs. Listening to Shark’s crazy talk was a part of every counselor’s job description, and had long become a matter of routine. He was thinking about Wolf. And Pompey. And the hole. What exactly was the “hole” that Pompey, according to Vulture, had dug for himself? What did Great Bird mean by that? Still, thinking about Pompey was easier than thinking about Wolf. He didn’t want to think about Wolf at all.
“But who’s going to understand me? Nobody, that’s who. I stand alone, abandoned by everyone. Now one of my subordinates returns after a six-month absence and he doesn’t even consider stopping by to say hello. I have to write notes to him! And only then does he come. What’s the best word to describe this? I’ll tell you. That word is ‘shit.’ Everything that surrounds me is shit.”
“I’m sorry,” Ralph said. “I would’ve come even without the note.”
“When?” Shark’s mottled eyes lit up angrily. “Tomorrow? Or maybe the day after? I demand respect. Or you can all go to hell. I’m the boss here! Am I right?”
The principal fell silent, sighing heavily into his glass.
Ralph stole a look at his watch. There were less than twenty minutes left until the end of the last class, and he wanted to drop by the Sixth before Hounds scattered throughout the House. That meant arriving there directly after the teacher left.
“You,” Shark said, placing the glass on the floor and slumping dejectedly in his chair. “You’re the only counselor worthy of the name in this entire hellhole. And you just up and left, ran away to the coast. Abandoning us here to be carved up.”
“No one’s carving up anyone.”
“That’s what you say.” Shark’s scratchy voice was pouring soft sand into his ears. “And you’re the only one to say that.” He sniffed at the palm of his hand and frowned.
Ralph waited patiently. The principal wasn’t drunk. He was in the state that the less politically correct counselors dubbed his “period.” There was no sense in trying to debate him now.
“I am very sick,” Shark volunteered suddenly, staring directly into Ralph’s eyes. “They don’t believe me, but it’s just a question of time.”
Ralph affected concern. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s cancer,” Shark said darkly. “That’s what I suspect.”
“You’ve got to go and have it checked. Might be serious.”
“No use. I prefer to remain in the dark. So that when I’m killed, at least that will save me from a more drawn-out and miserable death. Which is a comfort. A rather cold one.”
“There are different ways of being killed.”
Shark flinched. “No kidding. Are there also different ways of saying nasty things to a terminally ill man, instead of, oh, I don’t know, maybe trying to cheer him up?”
He sat there for a while, looking like he was ready to breathe his last right that moment, then looked at his watch and stirred nervously.
“Oh . . . There’s a game on today. Damn! Forgot all about it!” He jumped up and looked around the office. “Right. Switched off everything. Now only the lights. And the door.”
He searched his pockets.
“Want to go grab a bite?”
“No. The trip took it out of me. I think I’ll turn in early.”
Ralph took the keys proffered to him and turned off the lights. Shark was looking at him proudly.
“It’s good to have you back. We’ll fill you in tomorrow morning. Don’t think your vacation is not going to really cost you in the end.”
“I have no doubt it will.”
Ralph locked the door and returned the key ring to the principal. He jangled it, hunting for the key to his bedroom.
“Why did Noble’s mother take him away?”
“You know already,” Shark said with admiration. “As usual. One foot in the door and already knows everything. I’ve always said you weren’t quite normal. In the best possible sense, of course.”
“So why did she?”
Shark finally located the key and painstakingly separated it from the others.
“Lost confidence in us. We weren’t watching the guy closely enough. That’s how she put it. And something about the climate here being unhealthy. A stunning woman. Hard to argue with her. I didn’t even try.”
“Did she take him home?”
“I don’t know. None of my business. I never asked.”
“She could have switched schools . . . If this one wasn’t good enough for her.”
Near the canteen they were greeted by a piercing bell. Ralph couldn’t help wincing. Shark looked at him disdainfully, like a crusty captain might look at a former sailor long out of practice.
“You’ve gone weak,” he observed. “Weak and lazy. And here’s me holding you up as an example to the youth.”
Still grumbling, he mounted the stairs. Ralph stood there on the landing for a while, watching him go, and then returned to the hallway.
