Authors: R. L. Stine
“Rule the school! Rule the school!”
———
Mrs. Maloney was a solid woman, with short salt-and-pepper hair over a square, no-nonsense face. She wore no makeup. Her green-gray eyes were the most colorful parts of her face. They radiated humor and intelligence and were enough to make people find her attractive.
Her silky tan blouse pulled tightly over her bulge of a stomach, and even from the other side of her cluttered desk, Mark could see that she was straining her stretch-type brown pants. A tube of Pringles and a can of Pepsi on the edge of the desk revealed that she didn’t care much about her weight.
She greeted the twins warmly as Mark ushered them into her small office. Daniel took the chair beside the desk. Samuel sat across from the desk. Mark watched from the doorway.
The principal showed them she already knew how to tell one from the other (thanks to a previous visit from Lea). And she gave them school maps and copies of last year’s yearbook, which the twins seemed quite pleased with.
Mark knew quite a lot about Mrs. Maloney. She had first been principal at the Sag Harbor elementary school next door before moving to the middle school last year.
Sag Harbor had a large Irish community. They were the carpenters and landscapers and housekeepers, waitresses and pub owners.
Some said they came here because the weather so near the ocean was close to the weather in Ireland. But more likely, they came because they had relatives here. Mrs. Maloney and her husband had emigrated nearly twenty years ago from a town named Wicklow when they couldn’t find teaching jobs in the local schools.
She still had her Irish accent, which made her sound as if she were singing instead of talking, and added to her warmth. She joked with the twins, and they seemed delighted with her.
“There’s less than two months left of school, lads,” she told them, turning serious. “But it should be enough time for you to learn your way around and make some new friends.”
“We want to rule the school!” Daniel cried suddenly. That startled her into a laugh.
“Rule the school!” Samuel repeated, as if it was a chant.
“I like that,” Mrs. Maloney said, gray eyes flashing. “Miss Montgomery will like that, too.” Then she added, “She’s your teacher. Normally, I would split you two up. But since it’s so late in the school year . . .”
She raised her eyes to Mark, who was still leaning in the doorway. “I know we don’t have any school records for these boys. Is there any chance of locating them?”
Mark frowned. “We’re trying. But we haven’t been able to find
any
records for them. No birth certificate. No family ID or anything. It’s such chaos down there.”
Mrs. Maloney tsk-tsked, shaking her head.
“The records were all blown away or underwater,” Mark continued. “But we have someone looking for us. A woman Lea met down there named Martha Swann is trying to find whatever she can find.”
She nodded, then glanced at the wall clock above Mark’s head. “I guess that does it. Welcome to Sag Harbor, boys. We’re very happy to have you. Mark, will you help them find room 204? It’s the second door upstairs.”
“No problem,” Mark said.
Mrs. Maloney was fumbling her hand over her desktop. She raised her eyes to him. “Did you see my watch? I’m pretty sure I had it right here on the desk.”
Mark shook his head. “Sorry. I didn’t see it.”
She peered under the desk. Pulled open the middle drawer and gazed inside. Then moved a stack of papers. “That’s odd. Did you boys see a silver watch here on the desk?”
“No, mum,” Daniel answered, eyes lowered to the desktop. “I didn’t see it.”
“I didn’t see it, either, mum. Can we go to class now?” Samuel said.
A
utumn came to work after her classes. Mark was glad to see her. After his book tour, there was a lot of work to catch up on. But at three o’clock she was suddenly sitting in his lap and his life went out of control.
She showed up a little after one, breezed into his office down the hall from the living room, and dropped a brown paper bag on his desk. “Cheese Danish? I stopped at the Golden Pear.”
Mark turned from his keyboard and swung the black leather desk chair around to face her. He made a grab for the bag. “You’re the best.”
She smiled. Her eyes glowed. “I try to be,” she said in a sultry whisper that surprised him. She tugged off her red hoodie and tossed it on his office couch.
Autumn wore a yellow scoop-neck T-shirt over a short, brown pleated skirt. He couldn’t help but stare at her bare legs, lowering his eyes to the yellow sandals on her feet.
Her white-blond hair fell loosely over her shoulders. He didn’t remember her wearing lip gloss to work before. And that citrus-like scent was new, too.
She grinned at him as if she had a secret she was keeping. He
suddenly had the idea she was posing, standing in place so he could admire her.
She glanced back to the door. “No one home?”
He opened the brown bag and tugged off a piece of the Danish. “No. Lea’s in the city. I took the boys to school for the first time. And Roz and Axl are doing the grocery shopping.”
She leaned toward him. The lemony scent intensified. The low-cut T-shirt revealed more perfect, creamy cleavage. “And what are we doing today?”
“Mostly mail. And I have a number of requests to answer. Appearances. Some radio things.”
She sent a strand of hair off her forehead with a toss of her head.
Mark took another bite of the cheese Danish. “I shouldn’t eat this. Wish I had more willpower.”
Her eyes flashed. “You? No willpower? Really?” She tossed her hair back again. “Are you going to travel more?”
“No. The book tour is over. I’ve done everything I can. Now it’s up to the publisher.” He swallowed another chunk. Tried not to stare at her boobs, which were at eye level. She stood so close. “Besides, I should stay around home for a while. You know. Because of the twins.”
She turned suddenly and walked to the window. She pushed back the dark drapes and peered out. A gloomy day, storm clouds filling the sky. The mostly bare trees shaking. April rains.
“Mark, how are the boys doing?”
“Okay, I guess. They seemed excited about school. They kept chanting, ‘Rule the school! We’re gonna rule the school!’”
“Cute. They really are adorable.”
“Yes. Lea is totally over the moon over them. Roz thinks they’re
too
adorable. She says all twelve-year-olds are monsters. She’s waiting for them to pull off their angel masks and reveal their hideous monster selves.”
Autumn snickered. “Your sister is weird.”
“She’s a cynic. True, she’s had a tough life. But she was a cynic
before
she had a tough life. When we were kids, I was always
shocked because she had something terrible to say about everyone. But, Jesus, she sure could make me laugh. Still can.”
He motioned to the narrow, chrome-armed chair beside his desk. “Sit down. I’m going to hand you things.” He patted a stack of folders on the desktop.
She lowered herself gracefully into the chair. Smoothed the pleats of her short skirt. Then she reached her hand out and gently flicked a crumb of Danish off the side of his mouth.
His startled look made her laugh.
Should I talk to her about dressing less provocatively?
Well . . . actually, I like it.
He pushed the brown paper bag to the edge of the desk. Then he pulled the stack of folders in front of him, opened the top one, and started going through the varied requests—for autographs, for appearances, for charitable contributions . . . and a few for apologies.
There were several lengthy letters, some of them from other child psychologists, refuting his findings. One particularly venomous letter from a woman in Los Angeles accused him of demeaning the whole profession and “holding all psychologists up to ridicule by espousing this crackpot philosophy designed only to arouse controversy and sell books.”
Mark shook his head. “She must have been speaking to my father.”
“Your father?”
“He wrote almost exactly the same letter. I told you. He found my book a total embarrassment.”
“Your father wrote to you? He didn’t call you?”
“We don’t speak.”
“You’re serious? He’s a shrink, right?”
“He’s not just a shrink. He’s a big deal in the New York Psychoanalytic Society. And he’s got his Park Avenue office with his celebrity patients and—”
“He
wrote
to you?”
Mark nodded. “He needed to tell me just how much I had embarrassed him. I think my whole career embarrasses him. You
know. I didn’t match up to his expectations right from the start. I mean, he went to Harvard and I went to Wisconsin.”
Autumn chewed her bottom lip. “How do you want me to handle that letter?”
Mark flipped through it. Three pages single-spaced. “My psych advisor at Wisconsin gave me very good advice. She said, ‘Never defend yourself.’ She said you never can convince anyone, and if you try to defend yourself, you just sound weak. She said to always be positive, never defensive.”
Autumn scratched her knee with her long red nails. “So what should I say?”
“Say thank you for your thoughtful letter. I really appreciate your taking the time to write.”
That phony reply made them both laugh. Autumn was gazing at him with such total admiration, Mark had to look away.
Such a beautiful girl. He suddenly wondered about her social life. Did she have a boyfriend? He shared a lot with her about his private life. But he didn’t dare ask her personal questions. It might seem like prying. It might seem offensive. And she never offered much.
Today she seemed different to him. Not just the sexy clothes. The secret smiles and the long gazes, as if she had some kind of plan, some kind of surprise.
They went through the files. Then she set the stack on the floor beside her chair and stood up. She stepped close to him. “You’re a psychologist, right? Can you read my mind?”
He chuckled. “I’m not a mind reader, I’m a psychologist. But yes, I can read your mind. You wish you’d saved that cheese Danish for yourself. Right?”
“Wrong.” She took his hand. Tenderly. “You really can’t read my mind?” Her blue eyes caught the light. “You really don’t know what I’ve been thinking for the longest time?”
“Autumn. Really, I—”
And then she was in his lap, squeezing his hand, pressing her hot face against his.
“Autumn—no. Come on.”
She kissed his ear. Her breath tickled the side of his face.
“No. We can’t. I can’t. I mean—” He tried to stand up. But he couldn’t move.
She turned his head and pressed her mouth against his. He could taste the creamy, sweet flavor of the lip gloss. And then she was opening her mouth, and his tongue moved despite himself.
“No—”
She held the back of his head and kept his mouth pressed to hers. He couldn’t speak.
“No. This is wrong. Please—”
Kissing him. She took his hand and moved it between her legs. Kissing him so passionately. Beneath the short skirt her panties were wet. She pressed his hand into her.
“No, Autumn. Stop. We can’t.”
She uttered low gasps in his ear. “Oh, yes. Yes. Oh, yes.”
Like a porno video.
He felt his erection grow. “I don’t want this.”
But suddenly he did.
She stood up and pulled him to his feet. Then she reached under the skirt and lowered lacy black panties to her ankles. She flipped the short skirt up as she leaned over the desk.
That creamy white ass. So beautiful. She grabbed the far end of the desk with both hands. “Mark—hurry.”
Oh, God. Over the desk. From behind.
His khakis were down. And he was inside her.
This isn’t happening. How can it be?
Sprawled over the desk, she moaned, rhythmic soft cries. He buried his face in her soft hair. He lost himself in her.
He lost himself.
Lost.
And came inside her. It didn’t matter. All the doctors said he could never have more children.
He stayed on top of her for a long moment, breathing hard, gripping the shoulders of her T-shirt, the creamy ass still moving beneath him. Then, heart pounding, he pushed himself to his feet.
She climbed up slowly. Turned to him. Grabbed his shirt, brought her face close, and licked the side of his face. “Am I your best assistant?” A whisper that tingled his skin. “I want to be the best. Am I the best?”
A door slammed.
They both gasped. She squeezed his shoulders, eyes wide in alarm.
Mark heard the twins’ voices. Footsteps.
Autumn bent down, grabbed her underpants and tugged them on. She straightened her skirt. Brushed back her damp, tangled hair with both hands. “Oh, wow. Oh, wow.”
The footsteps louder in the hall.
He was scrambling to fasten his khakis. Still fumbling with the fly as the twins tumbled into his office, bumping each other, both talking at once.
Zipper stuck, Mark dropped into the desk chair. Crossed his arms over his lap. Forced a smile. “Hey, guys—how was your day?”
T
he twins had their eyes on Autumn, who leaned against the side of the desk, her skirt still crooked, her cheeks bright pink.
“How was school?” she asked them, sounding breathless.
“Good,” Samuel said.
“Yeah. Good,” his twin added.
“What did you do today?” Mark asked.
“Stuff,” Samuel replied.
“Just some stuff,” Daniel added.
Mark tried a third question. “Did you like Miss Montgomery?”
“She’s nice, don’t you know,” Samuel said, eyes on Autumn.
“Nice,” Daniel echoed.
Mark laughed. “You guys were talking your heads off till you got in here. Now we get only one-word grunts from you. What happened?”
They both shrugged in reply. Daniel giggled.
Mark studied them. They looked too clean, their new jeans and T-shirts stiff, not broken in. Their blond hair lay perfectly in place, like doll heads.
“Did you suddenly get shy?” Autumn asked. She was working on untangling a thick strand of blond hair.