The Horrible Surprise

Students crowd noisily before the main bulletin board. Some are laughing and pointing their fingers; others hiss and admonish. When Sophia appears, fresh as a daisy and ready for a fruitful day without that Brad Silverstone distraction, the Red Sea parts, and the students fall silent. She makes her best, kindest, nicest smile (because she has promised herself she will be extra nice to everyone she meets from here on—and that includes creatures like Mr. Frome), and asks what's wrong? She follows the students' gaze and at first, confusion hits her brain. There's nothing here to be so excited about: announcements, advertisements, memos from the principal's office.

Then her eyes rest on a photo so vandalized that it's almost unrecognizable—this was her face! Or at least it was, before someone unleashed the creative potential of a black Sharpie on her image. Above it, someone appears to have insanely stabbed the caption "Teacher of the Month" with the same Sharpie and scribbled "Slut of the Year" beside it in angry strokes. Just so anyone might mistake the intent, the same anonymous vandal has also drawn arrows emanating from Sophia's photo and pointing to the phrase "Slut of the Year."

There's a lump in her throat and a clench in her fist, yet Sophia doesn't know who might have done this. Her mind whites out. She drops her books and a girl whose name she barely remembers takes the initiative to wordlessly pick them up. She stands there staring at her photo, at the careless doodle of a penis touching her mouth, her pearly white teeth smile blackened, out of her head jut ram horns. Or the she-devil's horns.

The girl solemnly hands her the books, a votive offering to an angry god. Then she silently walks away, leaving Sophia to the inner storm raging in her head. She has barely noticed that she's all alone now—all the kids that were, a second ago, having some jolly good fun at this defacement, they all have scampered to all directions, like frightened rats. Sophia's so shocked that someone in this place—right here where she's supposedly enlightening the minds of youngsters to lofty ideals—could hate her so much. She could feel the bile ooze from the Sharpie stab wounds, from the way the word "slut" is scribbled pointedly. In her mind, all she could think of was—

"Whoever did this will spend all year in detention!"

It's Carol Smith, materializing beside her, eyes wide with horror. "This is so horrible! Who in her right mind would call you a slut?"

"Yeah." Sophia turns to her, trying to read Carol's face. "I can't believe that someone could stoop so low and do this."

Carol shrugs. "Maybe one of those little bitches who have a big crush on Brad Silverstone, don't you think? These high school girls can be so vicious when they think you're taking away their candy."

"Bitches," Sophia intones. "Yeah, I think one pathetic, old little bitch did this, one who has not a shred of self-respect left, one who would never hesitate to stab a person in the back."

"I—I would not really put it that way." Carol laughs nervously. "But let me report this incident to the principal. I'm going there now. Don't worry. We'll get whoever did this. I may have a few suspects."

Carol hugs her. To her surprise, Sophia allows herself to be hugged by—of all people—Carol Smith. But there's so much going on in her head—the nightmare at Fastidio's, then this—that she breaks down in tears and all Carol could do is offer her a hankie. Deep down, Sophia's mildly surprised that Carol's being so nice to her—maybe her own resolve to be extra-nice to everybody is attracting good vibes—that thing with her defaced photo, notwithstanding—even from perceived enemies like Carol.

Sophia spends a few minutes in the ladies room burying under make-up all the morning's heartache. When it's all done, she admires her reflection in the mirror—she looks like a superstar again, uncannily resembling that hot girl on TV everybody keeps talking about, although her eyes are still bloodshot and puffy. In the classroom, she tries her best to ignore the fact that Brad Silverstone's seat is empty—she'd rather have it empty forever—as she conducts the day's lessons with enforced efficiency. Miss Sophia Masterson is very serious; even the students know better than try her patience.

It's a good thing she doesn't have to talk and lecture; she could just recede and mull things over in the background, as the class proceeds with the scheduled activity. It's game day, and the students are supposed to play their own version of Pictionary. The class is divided into two teams of girls and boys. One member reads a word or phrase from a card and tries to draw it on the board, while the rest of their teammates guess it. It is rowdy fun—enough to rob Sophia of the moments required for incessantly brooding over the earlier events. As it happens, she finds it easier to melt with the present, her worries kept at bay by the constant need to referee the two teams, who seem ready to murder one another over the word "spittoon." The girls' team is headed by Melissa, a lanky, bespectacled alpha female who once sucker-punched a boy in another section. The boys' team is reluctantly led by Randy, the pimply-faced class clown whose very leadership in the game has become the butt of jokes. Nobody respects Randy, yet he doesn't take offense. He wears his reputation like armor, and even takes it to an extreme. Melissa's team has just scored a point, and Randy stands there mentally reading the word on the card.

"Alright," Randy mutters, his face beaming with mischievous confidence. "It's time we stepped up, boys!"

Half of the class whistle and let out a whoo-hooo!

"May I have the chalk, please?" Randy ceremoniously bows before Melissa, who giggles as she hands him the chalk, which is reduced to pea-sized at this point. Randy forceps the bit of chalk with his fingers, then shows it around to the class. "It looks like we have a winner!"

The classroom roars in laughter, including Sophia. "Just get a new chalk from the drawer, Randy."

"Yes, Ma'am!" Randy fumbles in opening Sophia's desk drawer. He makes a face as he shifts through the unseen contents. He makes it appear as if he's discovering shocking things in the drawer, much to the class's amusement. But then he stops. He stands there frozen, as if bitten by a snake. Eons fly by. Water drips to form stalactites in caves. Entire cities are founded and destroyed, and rebuilt and destroyed again until they're buried under miles of vegetation. But Randy stands there, his lips quivering. "I, uhh. Ma'am?"

Sophia thinks Randy's still prepping for another joke. "Cut it out, Randy, or I'll have Dirk replace you."

"But, uhh..." Randy takes something from the drawer and delicately holds it up. "Is this yours, Miss Masterson?"

The shock silences everyone. Blood rushes to Sophia's head.

The boy is holding a huge, severed penis.