THE
HANGMAN
Someone
cleared their throat off to Cassandra’s right. After, loose change clanked
together.
Cassandra
swung her head in the direction of the noise. A man stood in the doorway to the
classroom, peering over his black rimmed glasses. They had slid halfway down
his nose. She hadn’t met him before. The day her and her mom came for open
house, the home room teacher was out sick. It had to be him. He looked more
like a military man though. His pure white shirt and black trousers had
absolutely no wrinkles.
The
rowdy teens suddenly went silent and plopped in the desks around her and her
BFF. All went sullen-faced.
“Good
morning, class,” the man said, strutting to the podium in front of the desk. “I
see we’re up to our same antics, Mr. Gruber.” He cast a gaze over his shoulder
and grabbed onto each side of the lectern.
The
greasy-haired boy at the chalkboard lowered his head and rushed around the
teacher’s giant desk to the one directly behind Cassandra. He plopped loudly
into the seat.
“Miss
Wadsworth, please go to your desk before I decide to write you a warning.” He
smoothed back his grey clipper cut. The short hairs on the top of his head
stood straight up.
The
girl standing in front of Ronald tugged at her skirt and hurried to the back of
the room.
“I
see we haven’t grown up much over the summer.” His dark, beady eyes went from
left to right stopping at Cassandra. He tapped his chin and then glanced down.
“You are new. Miss̶̶ .”
“Cassandra
Berg. My friends call me Sassie.”
The
girls behind her, snickered.
The
teacher’s lips flat-lined, and he cocked his left bushy brow as he shot a look
passed Cassandra. “One more time, ladies, and you can visit Mr. Ray today. I’m
sure he would be pleased to see all of you.” He let go of the stand and
straightened, shifting his glance back on Cassandra. “Miss Berg.” He nodded and
shifted his eyes toward Ronald. “And you, sir?”
“Ronald
Fisher, sir.”
“In
my class, you will be known and called by your last name. I am not your friend.
I am your instructor.” Saliva webbed around the corners of his mouth as he
spoke.
The
kid behind Cassandra tapped her shoulder and whispered, “That’s why we call him
the hangman.”
“Mr.
Gruber, do you have something to share with the class?” the teacher said.
“Um,
no, sir.”
“Good.
Then let’s get on with me introducing myself.” He made his way around the desk
toward the blackboard and picked up a felt eraser. There, he stood with his
back to the class as he studied the hangman before erasing it. “My name is
Haggerman.” He plucked a piece of chalk from the board's silver tray and scribbled out M-r-.-H-a-g-g-e-r-m-a-n.
After, he faced the class.
An
intercom hanging on the wall above Ronald buzzed. “Mr. Haggerman?” a woman’s
voice said.
“Yes.”
“You’re
wanted in Mr. Ray’s office immediately.”
“Let
me get my students squared away first.”
“Okay.
I’ll let him know.”
Mr.
Haggerman set his gaze on Cassandra. “Ms. Berg, I have job for you.”
Cassandra
rolled her shoulders back. She couldn’t imagine what he wanted.
He
marched toward her with a legal pad and pen in hand. “I’m making you the class
monitor. I want you to write down the names of those who talk and get out of
their seats.” He handed her the items.
She
took them reluctantly. This wasn’t going to be good. Why couldn’t he have picked Ronnie? Or someone else? Why me?
“Can
you handle this, Miss Berg?”
“Yes,
sir.” She didn’t have the guts to tell him otherwise.
“Good.
I know you won’t disappoint me. You have an honest face,” he said, lifting his
chin. He slid his right hand into his pant pocket and jingled his loose change
again. “And for the rest of you, I want you to take out your Bibles and hand
copy Psalm twenty-three, three times over. That should keep you busy until I
return.” After, he spun on his heels and hurried out of the classroom door
hooking to the right down the hallway.
One
of the girls in the back let out a loud cackle, “Hangman’s got a pet piggy!”
Shelly
Arkon © 2015
