Mrs. Malicious
By: Gabriella Balcom
Laboring over her algebra test, fifteen-year-old Elabelle chewed on her bottom lip. She had trouble with math even on the best of days. In fact, it was her worst subject. Anxiety was another thorn in her side, and she’d struggled with it her whole life. It worsened when she was under pressure, with her mind occasionally going blank at the worst possible time.
She thought of her parents and sighed. Both of them had dropped out of school at an early age to help their respective families, so their hope that she’d graduate someday meant a great deal to them. Not a day had passed that they hadn’t encouraged her to succeed — to do her very best, at least. If she failed a class, they’d be so disappointed. But this math exam...
Frowning down at it, she worried about all the things she couldn’t remember — all the questions she couldn’t answer.
Elabelle’s vision blurred and the numbers in front of her seemed to move. She tried to stay calm but breathed faster and faster in spite of herself, panic roiling around inside, threatening to spill over. She felt like she’d burst or scream, clenched her fists so tightly her nails dug into her palms, but didn’t even notice.
Someone rubbed her neck gently, and she immediately felt better, the tightness inside her easing.
“Take your time,” her boyfriend, Duane, murmured. He sat behind her and always encouraged her. “You got this.”
Glancing over her shoulder at him, Elabelle smiled. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“No talking,” their teacher, Mrs. Gray, snapped, glaring at first one of them, then the other. She marched Duane up front, announced he was getting three licks for misbehaving, and struck him hard with the wooden paddle she kept in her desk. Afterward, she paddled him all over again, doubling the overall number. “Can't whine to daddy anymore,” she commented, sneering.
Elabelle’s blend of horror and shock vanished in a flash, replaced by sheer rage and determination. She took a deep breath, concentrated on what she wanted, and sent gentle breezes to caress Duane's cheek when he sat down. She knew he hurt, and not just physically, either.
He was heartbroken over his father’s recent death. A wonderful person, the older man had filled in for absent teachers at times, making learning fun, and being kind to everyone. At some point, he’d learned of Mrs. Gray’s repetitive cruelty to students, and reported her to the administration. His actions had worked wonders. She’d been reprimanded, with higher-level staff keeping a closer eyes on her from then on. But it was clear she wasn’t worried about that today.
Focusing on the malicious teacher, Elabelle used a blast of air to knock her onto her bottom. “For you,” she whispered to Duane.
He smiled.
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