As Ashley went through the empty locker room to ensure the girls had not left anything behind, she mulled over her current situation. Somehow or another, she had been recommended to this private school out in the middle of nowhere, where cell reception was minimal at best and nonexistent at worst and there was no easy way of getting into town. It sounded like something out of a horror movie, but there were some perks to it. For one thing, she could never have afforded to live in such a nice place on her old salary; the cottage they had given her was gorgeous, like a mountain resort getaway. On top of that, the locale was beautiful; the runner could attest to this, considering how she roamed the hills outside of school hours. The best thing of all was that as cut off as they were, Ashley could get anything she wanted within a day or two at most.
Of course, such a luxury was a grievance in of itself. The school did more than just provide for its students and faculty: it pampered them; spoiled them rotten. When Ashley arrived for the first time, having done her interview over the phone, she was shocked at just how flabby and out of shape everybody was. The new coach had to be the only teacher still under a hundred pounds; even her designated assistant, Courtney Farron, had to be approaching two-fifty. She had tried not to let her disgust show, but she could not contain herself. Ashley had been outspoken all her life, and first impressions be damned; she was going to let everyone know what she thought.
She knew the reputation she was building up, and if she was honest with herself, she wished she did not have to be so harsh. The tanned woman really did want to be a teacher, to pass her knowledge along and shape a new generation; she just wished it was less Sisyphean. Progress was miniscule, and for every pound her students lost, they seemed to pick it right back up in a day or two. If she was tough and driving, it was only because she wanted to see these girls improve, and if that meant being as abrasive as sandpaper, so be it. These little porkers needed some tough love to counter all the mollycoddling they received from the rest of the school, from the lowest to the very top.
And speaking of, the silky-smooth voice of Shannon Polluck broke the quiet of the locker room. She told Ashley, "Ms. Knight, I need a word with you at once."
The new teacher spun about to face the queen bee of the school and stood at full attention. Ms. Polluck had the physique of an overfed housewife but carried herself with all the presence of a monarch. She always seemed to radiate in her golden-yellow clothes, and even in the mediocre lighting of the locker room, the principal glowed like a firefly. Her hypnotic eyes, usually so warm and inviting, were now as cold as ice as she stared daggers right into Ashley.
"Ms. Polluck...what can I do for you?" asked the gym teacher. "We don't see you down here too much."
"Yes, but I believe I'm going to come here much more frequently, Ashley," her boss seethed. She strode into the room with more grace than her bulbous body should have allowed. "You see, I've been getting some complaints, and by 'some', I mean 'almost every student you have'. You've only been at this for a couple of weeks, and you've already managed to rack up more complaints than any of my other busy bees. I would say I was impressed if I weren't so furious and disappointed in you."
Ashley held her tongue, something she was not used to doing. Somehow, Shannon had that way about her: when she was upset with anyone, she spoke to them like a disappointed parent, which stung more than any screaming match ever could.
Since the instructor was staying silent, the principal continued. "I deal with student complaints all the time, but I am much less used to angry parents. In the time I have been headmistress of this academy, I can count the times I have received angry phone calls on one hand. Now? I've had to start counting with my feet. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
"I'm not trying to be difficult, Polluck--"
"Ms. Polluck."
"--Ms. Polluck. I'm just trying to push them to be better; to light a fire under them!"
The blonde sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "And the only thing you've succeeded in is making them hate coming to class. Do you know that Sonya Bates, one of your sophomore students, threw up after your class two days ago?"
"She must have been sick," Ashley reasoned, doing whatever she could to shift the blame off herself.
"Or maybe it's the--what did she say they were called? Oh, yes, suicide runs you had her do."
The young teacher furrowed her brow but could not meet the principal's gaze. "She brought a bag of chips to my class. First rule: no snacks."
"So you punished her for a bag of chips by making her run until she had to be taken to the nurse's office?" Shannon asked in a voice that concealed bubbling rage, something Ashley knew only too well. "I had expected better from you, Ashley. When I received a recommendation about you, I thought you could help turn our athletic department around, but all you've done is make everyone miserable, myself included."
The gym teacher took a deep breath to compose herself, fists clenching and unclenching, and she asked in a sharp hush, "Am I fired?"
Ms. Polluck shook her head and seemed to soften just a touch. "No, dear, not at all. I still believe that you have potential as an instructor here, but you require a bit more guidance than most."
That part made her bite her lip even harder. There were any number of things that she could scream and rant about, especially with the assumption that she wanted to be like the rest of the slobs around Buttercombe, but the words never came out. If anything, she wished that everyone else would follow her guidance; to say that in front of her boss would be suicide.
"First, I'm going to have someone come by to sit in on your classes until further notice," Shannon explained as she held up a perfectly manicured finger one by one. "Second, Courtney will take on a more active role; she is your assistant, not your lackey. And third, you will attend weekly anger management sessions with..."
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