Free Confessions from the Principal's Chair by Anna Myers Page B

many places to shop around here." Serenity rolled her eyes like she thought a principal wouldn't ask that. Focus here, Bird, I told myself. I sort of cleared my throat. "Well," I said. "Maybe it doesn't matter where they buy them. Let's get on with the matter at hand." I was proud of coming up with that phrase, "the matter at hand." Things I had heard in the principal's office were coming in handy for me now. "Does every girl who doesn't wear the latest fashions get picked on, then?"
    Serenity gave me a surly look and shrugged her shoulders. "Serenity," I said, and I leaned toward her. "Do not shrug when I ask you a question. I expect words in your answer. Do you understand me?" I was surprised to hear how principalish I sounded. Well, the girl was getting on my last nerve. Shrugging seemed to be her number one talent. "Now, I want to know if every girl who does not dress in a certain way is tormented!"
    "No," she said, "just me."
    "Very well, then, I think we can eliminate your clothing as the reason. I suggest you look a bit more deeply." I looked at her and waited, taping my fingers against my desktop and humming the song "Oklahoma."
    "Maybe it's partly the things I say." She was staring at the floor again.
    "Give me an example." I tried to make my voice warm, yet firm.
    "Sometimes I exaggerate things." I could barely hear her, but as soon as the words sunk into my brain, I knew we were getting to the root of the problem.
    "Serenity," I said. "I know this is hard for you, but I can only help you if you are honest with me. What things do you exaggerate? Give me an example,"
    Tears started to roll down her cheeks. "The other day in history class the kids got Coach Pickle to talking about movies. If we can get him off the subject of history, sometimes we don't have to do anything all period." She stopped talking then, like she was finished with the story.
    "Come on, Serenity. What did you say?"
    "Well, Coach Pickle started talking about this Marilyn Monroe woman and how he loved her old movies." She stopped again.
    "Yes," I said, "I know about Marilyn Monroe." I started using my hand like I was urging her to move. "Come on. What did you say?"
    "Well, I put up my hand and I was going to say that I had watched some of Marilyn Monroe's movies, but I didn't." She stopped talking and made little sobbing sounds instead.
    "I'm waiting," I said, using my hands again.
    "I sort of said that I was adopted and that Marilyn Monroe was my birth mother."
    I laughed out loud, and Serenity stopped crying to say, "You're not supposed to laugh at me and stuff. You're supposed to make me feel better."
    "Serenity," I said, "Marilyn Monroe died ages ago. My mother told me once it was a long time before she was even born. Marilyn Monroe couldn't possibly be your birth mother."
    "I didn't know when she died. I didn't even know she was dead." She wiped at her eyes with her hand, and I pulled a tissue from the box on my desk and handed it to her. Suddenly she stopped dabbing at her eyes. "Ms. Miller," she said, "how old are you?"
    "Serenity, I don't think that my age is . . . " I paused. Trying to talk like a principal was suddenly hard. My mind raced. "Relevant! I mean my age is not relevant to this conversation."
    She shrugged, and that was when I learned she was as good in math as she was in shrugging. "Well," she said, "I was just wondering because Coach Pickle said Marilyn Monroe died in 1962, and if that was before your mother was born, she must not be over forty-two, and that is pretty young for a principal's mother." She smiled at me.
    "Did I say before my mother was born?" I didn't wait for her to answer, just went on fast. "Of course, I meant to say before I was born. Of course my mother would have to be lots older than forty."
    "So," said Serenity, "you're over thirty, then?" She leaned across the desk to peer closely at me. "You look pretty good for that age."
    This idiot girl was beginning to make me nervous. "Face cream," I said. "I use a