Bobby Blanchard, Lesbian Gym Teacher Page 21

  A few paces from the bottom of the terrace was the path that led to the Mesquakie Point Woods. Bobby wandered along it, enjoying the cool night air on her flushed face. She turned and looked back at Dorset. The big windows framing the whirl of movement and color were like living paintings.

  “Bobby? Is that you?”

  “Enid?”

  Enid was a faint glimmer of silvery gray at the base of a big pine tree. “Will you look at this,” exclaimed the Math Mistress. “One of those kids stashed a cache of beer here!” She nudged something with her foot, and Bobby heard the clank of bottles. That Beryl! she thought. But reprimanding boozy Beryl was the last thing on her agenda.

  “Enid, I’ve been thinking,” she said in a rush. “We like each other a lot, there’s no denying it—”

  Enid straightened up. Her face, in the faint moonlight, was serious. “I’ve been thinking too—” She took a step toward the brocade-clad gym teacher.

  “I know I’m not your ideal girl,” Bobby continued.

  “I’m not anyone’s ideal girl,” Enid admitted with a twisted smile.

  “Don’t say that,” contradicted Bobby hotly. “What I’m saying is, I’ve been trying to change my interpersonal interaction patterns, and it sounds like you want to do the same—”

  “It’s true, fighting my predilection has brought me no satisfaction,” muttered the Math Mistress.

  “So why not try getting together?”

  “You’re right.” Enid slid into Bobby’s arms, and the Games Mistress felt like a banked fire suddenly stirred into flame. “What I need is to forget logic and embrace the purely physical side of an affair, like you have!”

  “No, no!” Bobby tried to pull away, but Enid’s kiss was like a match to a fuse, burning a path of molten desire to Bobby’s core and causing an explosion of hot delight that took the young gym teacher by surprise. “Enid!” she gasped incoherently, “I don’t want another tawdry affair! I want a mature relationship that can survive the light of day!”

  She struggled to pull away, but the Math Mistress had a foot on the hem of the brocade skirt. “Hush,” whispered Enid, sounding suddenly like the girl in the cellar of the Knock Knock Lounge. Her hands were like red-hot branding irons, burning through Bobby’s borrowed clothes and marking her as Enid’s own. “Whenever we try to talk, we quarrel.”

  The explanations, the arguments all flew from Bobby’s head like a flock of alarmed quail fleeing an out-of-control campfire as Enid’s heated kisses burned away her last coherent thought. The Games Mistress’s awareness of time and place was suddenly limited to the urgent softness of Enid’s breasts, pressed against her own, the tight grip of Enid’s fingers on her arm, the cold dampness around her ankles from the dew sodden skirt, the heat at the core of her being. Bobby felt strangely exposed under the voluminous skirt. She responded against her will to Enid’s touch, helpless as a nerve when the doctor taps your knee with his little hammer. At the same time she felt giddy, like she’d gotten on a carnival ride and couldn’t get off. Giving up her halfhearted resistance, she gave herself over to the Tilt-A-Whirl sensation, the wild spinning, the lurches up and down.

  Without knowing how she got there, Bobby was kneeling on the ground, lips fused to Enid’s, who knelt facing her. Suddenly Enid pulled away and yanked Bobby’s skirt up. “So many petticoats,” she panted as Bobby skidded sideways. “Are they really necessary?” Bobby’s head spun. Am I having a vertigo attack? she wondered. But the dizziness, instead of sickening her, intensified her pleasure. “I wouldn’t know,” she whispered breathlessly. “It’s a loan from Serena.” Then, as rational thought briefly rose from the flames of desire, she cried out, “Enid this is wrong, wrong—”

  “You’re not one of those touch-me-not girls, are you?” Enid was on top of her, and Bobby felt a delicious topsy-turvy helplessness seize her as Enid’s seeking hand found her most sensitive spot. “No—I don’t think so—oh yes, yes!” Bobby moaned in astonished ecstasy.

  Then, just as abruptly as it began, it was over, leaving the two teachers still radiating heat, like coals in a barbecue, after the flames from the lighter fluid have died down. “We should get back to the dance,” Bobby said, helping Enid to her feet and brushing ineffectually at her skirt. I’d better send the brocade to the dry cleaners before I give it back to Serena, she thought.

  “What’s your rush?” Enid sighed, nuzzling her face into the taller girl’s neck. It was all Bobby could do to say, “Enid, I’ve got to be square with you, this isn’t what I had in mind—” Then she stopped.

  Footsteps were approaching, crunch-crunching up the path. “Yoo-hoo, Coach Bobby,” called a voice softly.

  The two teachers sprang apart as Kayo’s ivory lace formal materialized on the path, but not quickly enough. In any case, their mussed hair and crumpled skirts were enough evidence of their activities, and Kayo was a quick study. She stopped short, with a little gasp. “Not Miss Butler!” she protested. “Not Miss Butler!”

  Turning, she fled, not to Dorset, but into the Mesquakie woods.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  A Visit to the Chem Lab

  Bobby walked back to Cornwall after the dance, brooding over the misunderstanding with Enid. How could the Math Mistress think Bobby would accept yet another affair based solely on physical pleasure? Did she think Bobby had learned nothing from Adolescent Development Patterns?

  It was too bad she’d been unable to clear things up back there under the big pine. But Kayo had twisted her ankle—tripping over a tree root on her headlong flight to the forest—and they’d had to carry her to the infirmary. I ought to reconsider my strategy for Thursday’s game against Adena, the coach thought distractedly as she recrossed the quadrangle. It wasn’t just Kayo’s ankle—there was also her hysterical declaration that she never wanted to see Coach Bobby again. But surely the Savages center would think better of her hasty words? Kayo had been overwrought, that’s all. Thank heavens Miss Craybill’s nurse had been handy with her hypodermic when they’d arrived at the infirmary!

  Her thoughts returned to Enid. How could she make the Math Mistress take her seriously as a prospective steady? Should she ask her out on a real date? Or should she wait for Enid to make the first move? Should she play hard to get?

  She wondered if Enid had returned to Manchester by now. She really ought to drop by and tell her what Miss Craybill had said earlier that evening.

  The Games Mistress paused irresolutely, near the entrance to Essex. Light fell from the window above. Looking up, she saw Miss Rasphigi in the window, examining a beaker.

  Bobby picked up a pebble from the path and tossed it against the window. She watched Miss Rasphigi put down the beaker and open it.

  “What do you want?” asked the Chemistry Mistress. “I’ve already told you, I have no medical training, and I’m in the middle of an experiment.”

  “Don’t worry, Miss Rasphigi, no one’s collapsed,” Bobby reassured her. “And I won’t take up any time. I just want to know what it was you said to Angle to make her believe that Miss Froelich wasn’t up in the tower looking for nuthatches.”

  “You or Angle are inaccurate,” said Miss Rasphigi. “I said Miss Froelich wasn’t observing nuthatches when she fell.”

  “How can you be sure?” persisted Bobby.

  “The white-breasted nuthatch is an inhabitant of large deciduous forests. It feeds on insects in trees, which it descends head first. If Miss Froelich had been observing nuthatches, she would have been on the western side of the tower, which overlooks a large maple tree; not on the eastern side, which overlooks the quadrangle, where there’s nothing taller than a shrub.”

  “So, Miss Froelich wasn’t bird-watching.” Bobby was dismayed. She hated to think that Miss Craybill was correct—that the former Math Mistress had jumped to her death. “But what about the binoculars?”

  Miss Rasphigi was already closing the window. “The data are insufficient for definite conclusions,” Bobby heard her say before it shut.r />
  “Maybe no conclusions, but plenty of—of inferences,” Bobby muttered to herself, groping for the word, and wishing Enid had been there to hear her use it.

  This was no time to play hard to get, she decided. She’d go to Cornwall, check on her charges, shed her borrowed finery, and visit Enid for some help probing the Metamora mystery. She owed it to the school!

  All was quiet when Bobby reentered Cornwall. She stripped off the borrowed brocade, now quite bedraggled, and paused before her closet, frowning. The gray sweatshirt, or the navy blue? Before she could decide, there was a soft tap at her door.

  “Who is it?” she asked throwing on her bathrobe and opening the door. “Why, Enid! Come in, come in!”

  Enid entered Bobby’s sitting room diffidently. She had changed too, into her red sweater and a pair of black ski pants. “I just wanted to ask after Kayo.”

  “Of course! Do you want some peanut brittle?” Bobby proffered the candy she’d confiscated that morning.

  “No, thanks.” Enid sat down, casting a sidelong glance at Bobby’s collection of trophies, medals, and banners. “How was she when you left her?”

  “That ankle may prevent her from playing against Adena next week. It’s too bad, because they’re a tough team.”

  “I meant was she still so—distressed? I think she must have had a crush on you.”

  “Oh that. Yes, she was still pretty upset.” Bobby didn’t want to think about Kayo’s unhappiness. She had a bad feeling she should have prevented it somehow. Should she talk to the confused girl, or would that make things worse? I’ll think about it tomorrow, she decided. “Listen, we have more important things to talk about,” she told Enid.

  “Oh?” Enid looked expectant.

  “I finally told Miss Craybill about Mona being the ghost, but she didn’t even care.”

  “Oh, that,” said Enid.

  “She believes she drove Miss Froelich to suicide! She says Miss Froelich had planned a big bird-watching trip this fall, and when Miss Craybill put the kibosh on it, Miss Froelich jumped!”

  “Really!” Enid looked interested now.

  “And that’s not all! Miss Rasphigi says that if Miss Craybill had fallen from the tower because of birds, she would have tumbled on the other side. Something about nuthatches nesting in the big maple.”

  “Interesting. But I’m not sure I buy it.” Enid tucked her feet underneath her. “First, what kind of mathematician kills herself over birds? Second, we don’t know for sure what species of bird she was looking at that day, or which side of the tower she’d be on. We just don’t have enough data.”

  “That’s what Miss Rasphigi said.” Bobby felt proud of Enid’s acumen. “But we can infer, can’t we?” She brought out the word with a flourish. “Anyway, I forgot to tell you Miss Craybill said Miss Froelich said something kind of reproachful before she died.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know.” Bobby wished she’d wrung it out of Miss Craybill. “Miss Otis threw me out before Miss Craybill could tell me. All she said was that Mona said they should hush it up.”

  Enid thought for a moment. “Can we infer that Mona witnessed Miss Froelich’s last words too?”

  Bobby looked at Enid agog. “So we can find out from Mona! Do you think Miss Froelich looked over the battlement and saw Mona doing her ghost bit, and that made her fall? No, wait, it was daytime.” The coach was crestfallen.

  “Maybe we’re making too much of this,” said Enid.

  “I don’t think so.” When Bobby thought over Miss Craybill’s description of hearing Miss Froelich fall, there was something that didn’t jibe. Something that didn’t make sense. What was it?

  “She screamed!” Bobby exclaimed. “Why would she have screamed if she jumped on purpose?”

  A knock on the door made them both start.

  “Probably just Sandy, to say Debbie’s sleepwalking again,” murmured Bobby. But it was Laura, still wearing her strapless satin. She pushed her way past the startled hockey coach.

  “Bobby, I had to come. You’ve been so distant lately. I told Ken I’d forgotten a glove in Dorset.” She stopped when she saw the Math Mistress in Bobby’s armchair. “Oh! Hello, Enid.”

  “Hello, Laura,” the Math Mistress replied.

  There was an awkward silence while Laura looked back and forth between Enid and Bobby, and Enid watched Laura. Bobby rearranged the trophies on her mantel, desperately trying to think of a way to get rid of the interfering Art Mistress. “Enid is—is helping me with some field hockey strategy, Laura. We’re kind of busy.”

  Laura’s eyes gleamed. “Couldn’t I help as well?” she suggested huskily. “After all, three heads are better than two! And I’ve been reading this book, Strange Triangle—”

  “You’ll have to count me out of any triangular doings.” Enid got up from the chair. “I should get back to my charges. Who knows what those hellions in Manchester have gotten up to?”

  Bobby was helpless to prevent the Math Mistress’s departure. Darn that Laura! “Well, thanks for all your help.” She followed Enid to the door and lowered her voice. “I’m awfully sorry we got interrupted.”

  Enid looked over Bobby’s shoulder at Laura, who was redoing her lipstick. “You know, don’t you, that she’ll never leave Ken, no matter how much she complains about him?” she murmured softly. “That wedding ring is as permanent as the mole on her right thigh.”

  Bobby stared after the departing teacher, open-mouthed. How did Enid know about Laura’s plans to leave Ken? How did she know about that mole?

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  More Discoveries

  The hot water pounded on Bobby’s tired muscles and the sound of the shower echoed through the empty locker room as Bobby scrubbed under the spray.

  It was very early Sunday morning. After a fitful night’s sleep, Bobby had risen at dawn to run off her uneasiness.

  After she’d suggested to Laura last night that they just be good friends, the Art Mistress had departed in one of her temperamental huffs and Bobby had gone to bed still puzzling over Enid’s remark. Immediately she was deep in a dream of chasing Miss Rasphigi up the steps of the tower, going around and around, yet never reaching the top, until finally she woke up, covered in sweat. When she fell back asleep, she dreamed she was at the top of the tower, and Mona was there, serving cocoa to Enid and Laura. Leaning against the wall behind them was a skeleton in an academic robe. Bobby had jerked awake with a gasp. She’d punched her pillow and tried to think of sheep. But when she closed her eyes, she was falling, falling from the tower toward the sundial. Then somehow her momentum slowed. Enid, standing where the sundial had been, pushed her back up in the air, like a volleyball player setting a ball. “Ups-a-daisy,” said the Math Mistress with a smile.

  Am I getting better, Bobby wondered as she turned off the shower, or worse?

  In the stillness Bobby heard the locker room door creak open. A prickle of fear ran down her spine. Who would visit the gymnasium at seven a.m. on a Sunday morning? She stood tensely as footsteps approached the shower stall. Wrapping herself in a towel, she yanked aside the shower curtain. Lotta, opening a locker, jumped around with a little scream.

  “Coach Bobby,” she gasped. “You scared me.”

  Bobby felt ashamed of her nervousness. The Metamora atmosphere was beginning to affect her. “Sorry, Lotta,” she replied. “What are you doing in the locker room so bright and early?” She asked the question casually, but Lotta stuttered her answer.

  “Nothing! I mean, I just wanted to leave Angle a present. It’s her birthday today.”

  “Really?” Bobby saw that Lotta held a small gold box. “What did you get her?”

  Shyly, Lotta took off the lid. Inside was an expensive calfskin wallet, the initials “A.C.O.” embossed in gold.

  “Nice,” commented Bobby. “Throw me my shirt, will you?” Lotta handed the teacher her shirt and then turned back to the locker and carefully tucked her gift next to Angle’s shin guards. She
closed the locker and locked the padlock, giving the combination dial a little spin.

  “Handy, you having Angle’s combination,” Bobby remarked, her voice muffled as she toweled her hair dry.

  “I have everybody’s combination,” Lotta explained. “So I can gather up the equipment for the away games and let the players save their strength.”

  Bobby had a flash of insight. “You’re the one who took Kayo’s locket!” she exclaimed. “But why?”

  “I—I—” The precocious student was tongue-tied.

  “Was it because of Angle? Did she ask you to do it?” pursued Bobby artfully.

  “No!” Lotta leapt to her idol’s defense as Bobby knew she would. “It was my idea—I don’t know why I did it. Kayo sent me to get her spare pinny, and I saw her locket hanging from the hook, and I—I took it. I don’t even like lockets! Will I be expelled?” Lotta looked ready to cry.

  “Why did you have to return it in such a dramatic fashion?” Bobby asked. She thought she understood Lotta’s motives better than the brainy but emotionally mixed-up teen. The ever-helpful water girl had been pining after Angle and stewing with resentment on her behalf all season while the rest of the squad treated her like an errand girl. It was a wonder she hadn’t done worse!

  “First I threw it in the Mesquakie woods,” Lotta gulped. “Then, when everyone was saying Angle must have taken it, I was worried that if someone found it there it would clinch the suspicions against her, because everyone knows she goes there all the time. So I looked—I used Miss Butler’s grid method—and I finally found it again the day Linda and her friends were having their séance. While you and Miss Butler were chasing after them, I snuck out and put it on the sundial, where someone would be sure to see it.”

  Bobby shook her head, thinking of the superstitious frenzy unleashed by this misguided crush.

  “Well, Lotta,” Bobby sounded as stern as she could with her damp hair still dripping, “I’m afraid this unfortunate impulse will have serious consequences—”