Any and all suspensions pending expulsion were accompanied with pages of information, most of it useless hearsay. Some accusations, a handful of rumors… but if the parents pulled enough strings, it all went into the file. Principal Mackenzie rifled through the pages with one long, thin hand.
In his other he clasped the student’s information. Amelia Wilson. Sophomore. In the legal guardianship of Gerard Meyer, her…..
Uncle? Godfather? Far cousin?
He read over a formal complaint that his overworked secretary had put into writing.
Mrs. Damer has requested that her daughter be moved out of fifth period chemistry. Her reason is as follows:
I won’t allow my daughter to be anywhere near Amelia Winston. From what I hear, not just from my daughter but from other parents, members of the PTSA, she is a delinquent; as is her guardian, Mr. Meyer. From what I hear, well, the both of them… are sick. I don’t want either of them influencing my child. If I could, I would move Darcy out of the school.
And then, of course, there was the fact that Mrs. Damer was treasurer of the Parent Student Teacher Association. Last year alone, she helped fundraise over twenty-six thousand dollars. And if she left the district, many other members of the PSTA would follow.
On the other hand, there was Amelia and her guardian. If Mackenzie screwed this up, didn’t handle this issue with just the right amount of finesse, if the claims turned out to be false, he was fucked. Eternally fucked. People would remember Gardenia High as the school where a student was verbally attacked by the principle and teachers for assumedly having sex with her guardian.
What was the term for that? Statutory rape. Or did this count as molestation?
Principle Mackenzie took out a monogrammed handkerchief and wiped his brow. This sort of thing called for a democracy; a whole host of people who would help him decide the matter. He did not want this monstrous problem to be his; he needed others to shoulder the blame.
He needed to call a meeting.
Yes, a meeting. With the school board and the PSTA and the vice principal and everyone who had a word on the subject and Mr. Gerard Meyer himself.
But first, he thought, with a touch of diplomatic brilliance, first I’ll pay a call to the house. Just me and Mr. Meyer and a file of complaints; all smiles and sympathy.
Principal Mackenzie considered himself a demigod of a principal; his best quality being (in his eyes)outstanding judge of character. He considered his clairvoyance a near- supernatural force entrusted to him by a higher power, which he used it humbly and without recognition for the greater good; reading the intentions and emotions of high-strung teenagers. There was no therapist, psychiatrist or school counselor at Gardenia High. Principle Mackenzie was modern-day oracle; he needed the assistance of none. Except, of course, Mrs. Shills.
On his way to the only phone in the office; he flung the file on top of Mrs. Shills’ desk. “Find everyone mentioned in this and invite—no, demand they testify in front of the board. I’m calling a meeting.”
“But Mr. Mackenzie, we already hosted a meeting about the girl’s code violations--”
“I know, Mrs. Shills. But this meeting is a little different. I’m not interested in the terms of her suspension; I’m interested in the rumors about her and her caretaker. I’m calling a meeting with Mr. Gerard Meyer.”
Mr. Shills balked at the name.
“Allow him? Here? But that would be putting our students at risk. Mr. Mackenzie--”
“Not if he’s watched at all times. I have someone escort him around campus; and I’m going to discuss the matter with him personally.”
Mrs. Shills nodded furiously and started scanning the paperwork for names; referencing them on the computer and writing down telephone numbers and hours of availability. Mr. Mackenzie watched her work for a while; the dial tone twittering in his ear.
Mrs. Shills was the only office personal; she did everything. Answered calls, recorded and filed complaints, maintained all the clubs and their fundraisers, wrote morning announcements, filed, sorted and handed out mountains of paperwork… And she did it all in a passionate frenzy; chest swelled, her dull blue eyes swiveling frantically, pupils dilated, tongue fastened to the side of her mouth; wisps of hair clinging to her face; starched with sweat. There wasn’t one day when worked her normal hours and went home. First to arrive, last to depart.
In Mr. Mackenzie’s opinion, she was a damn good secretary.
“And Mrs. Shills?” She dropped the file and swerved around in her chair, flushed from her work; fluorescents glinting off her square glasses, soft lips slightly parted; little daggers of hot breath slipping though them.
“My wife is at some fashion show in New York; won’t be back until Tuesday.”
Mrs. Shills nodded. Nothing else needed to be said. She new which nondescript car to bring, which street she had to park on and how many blocks she needed to walk. She knew what she had to wear and when she had to leave, always taking a different route back to her car, always taking some detour on the way back.
As Mr. Mackenzie prepared his words in his head; adding one here, moving one there, he thought of this man, this Mr. Meyer.
He thought of all the things Gerard had been accused of, and Mr. Mackenzie got a little nauseous.
It was sick, after all. Repulsive, transcending words. The sort of actions that weren't proper to speak of in any place, especially a school. It summoned words and images that shouldn't be fondled in the thoughts of respectable men. It was mortifying to have to hear about these things, Mackenzie thought, much less deal with them.
And if these claims were true... what if the claims were true?
And what if they weren't? So much counted on the character of this Gerard.
Obviously, it was paramount that Mr. Mackenzie speak to this man, himself.
On the other end of the line, Gerard Meyer answered the phone.
“Is this Principal Mackenzie?”
One sentence and the principle was already uneasy.
“How did you know? How could you possibly?”
“I have caller- identification, Mr. Mackenzie.” How pretentious of him, sounding out the whole world. Did the rest of society function just as well with ID?
“Of course, of course. Mr. Meyer, this is a personal call concerning, ah…. I’m going to pay you a visit tonight, if you are available.” Mr. Mackenzie glared at the silence. Obviously, Mr. Meyer wasn’t prepared to invite anyone over. How suspicious.
“Are you available?”
“Of course, Principal. Drop by anytime at all; Amelia will be here as well. She claims she’s sick, though I think it’s completely mental. But either way, my little hypochondriac has been bedridden; I can’t finish any work with her around.”
Mr. Mackenzie noted a little edge in his voice as he said the last words (which he thought a feat of pure perceiving genius) and recalled that it was a dicey suspension that came down to his influence on the educational board. And the man works in his house. Mackenzie always treasured the conventional work ethic; a nine-to-five job that benefits the community while bringing home a steady profit.
“And what is your job, Mr. Meyer?”
“Well… it’s a bit hard to explain, over the phone. It requires gesticulation, graphs, visual aids… but of course, you’re coming over. I’ll tell you then.” Mackenzie bit his lip. Was the man some sort of lewd artist?
“I—I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Mr. Meyer. I have other things to discuss with you…” He looked down at his watch: wedged between the date and the position of the moon were the solemn time-fingers, scratching their way towards four o’clock. He could make it by four fifteen, get this over with. The man gave him goose bumps.
“Mr. Meyer I’ll arrive at four fifteen.”
“Wonderful, Mr. Mackenzie. That’s about the time we eat dinner—do you have any requests?”
Dinner at four o’clock? How unnatural.
“No, no, that won’t be necessary. Good day, Mr. Meyer.”
Principal Paul Mackenzie realized he had been frozen during the entire conversation; fingers coiled around the phone cord, palms sweaty.
He wiped his fingers on his handkerchief.
“Mrs. Shills? Make the meeting for Wednesday. Stress to everyone that it is imperative that they come.”
As he bent down to pick up the file he whispered, “And tonight, wear the teddy I bought you last winter.”
She would comply, as always. She was, after all, a damn good secretary.
Overall, you're a very talented writer. This chapter was all very natural, with a nice pace and good description. Your main problem is grammar, but that's fortunate, because it's the easiest thing to fix. 
, and I thought that the relationship between Mr. Mackenzie and Mrs. Shills was pretty shocking/interesting if I read correctly. 
