Bird Song

Its talons grabbed her shoulder, pinching the skin raw. The victim almost squawked with the suddenness of the movement and yet the attacker's strong beak did not falter. High heels scraped the floor in a futile attempt to stay upright. A flutter of wings and it was over. However, the attacker did not flee on these wings, and neither did the innocent one seek refuge. The furious rush of mayhem caused further chaos.

"Are you all right, Miss Gregor?" she asked, straightening herself.

The woman's companion appeared too breathless to reply immediately. Miss Gregor began to massage her painful torso while gathering the fallen register with her free arm.

Zoe gave the teacher a reassuring smile, "Um, I'm fine: no real bodily harm done. What about you?" As the student lifted her teacher's handbag from the ground where it has fallen she added, under her breath, "Yeah, right. Thanks a lot for nothing, Mrs Perdue."

"Well, if no mischief's done I'll go on to the staff room. I hope a responsible student such as yourself will help me tidy this up a bit. The items in my handbag are really very important," she paused, "so please take good care when you handle them. I thank you for being so kind to an old woman. Ah, I see you have already retrieved my register. Give it here and I'll be off to leave you to concentrate."

After a brief nod of her stylised head and the exchange of the register Mrs Perdue click clacked away on her heels. The rhythm was steady and suggestive. Click. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Flash red heels, flash of fake fur coat. Click. Clack, and so on. Matching red lipstick and striking indigo eye shadow. Her adorned scarlet nails tap her thigh in time to the click clacking of her shoes.

Beware all who dare to walk in these possessed corridors! Click clack. Mrs Perdue was the terror of the high school. Daunted first years stare at her and giggle. Other juniors smirk, sniggering in their little gangs, and the seniors who were not all that prefecting demanded openly laughed and poked fun at the French teacher. Prefects acted with as much decorum and tact as possible, keeping their faces solemnly straight. And all of the time the click clacking dominates the building.

Students who regarded themselves as 'normal' turned away when Mrs Perdue approached them, sensing that they are about to be rowed about bringing mud and filth into her castle. Often groups would gather beneath the stairs to trip the monstrosity and see her made up composure fall into the sorry looking fox that was now her coat. As it clashes with her dyed auburn hair even the teachers stare.

Angrily, Zoe Gregor glared at the departing figure with venom. The pair were to say the least unalike. Zoe was herself, and Mrs Perdue could only be Mrs Perdue. All the students had been whispering for some time about the French teacher's application for the post of headmistress. The mere thought of the snakeish woman in scarlet having more control over their punishments was enough to make a student squirm.

When the last piece of paper had been picked up and the handbag lifted in Zoe's usual clumsy manner Mrs Perdue's latest victim drew in a sigh of relief. Zoe Gregor's scuffed excuse for nails and un-manicured hands took the precious bundle up to the staff room. The room was empty apart from one person, that person being Mrs Perdue. Shivering as she remembered how the talon like nails had scratched her, Zoe handed the parcel over to the teacher without any further ado.

"Thank you so much, Miss Gregor. My colleagues will honour you for this, I'm sure," the lone figure in the shadows welcomed.

The staff room had been a loud, untidy place of relaxation until Mrs Perdue's arrival. All the other teachers preferred to take the risk of facing the wild beasts that were the school's students. If one person wanted into the room it was not without an invitation. Before the staff room had consisted of a few mouldy chairs, cigarette bowls with ashes overfilling and coffee stains on a large and repulsive brown sofa. Mrs Perdue would allow no such state in her office. Tea cosies warmed the contained tea which wouldn't ever dare to spill. Portrait size photographs of Mrs Perdue streaked the newly painted walls with red colour.

Once a boy had asked her why she loved the colour red so much. Mrs Perdue's reply was to send him to detention for the rest of his school days, and she had made him dust her room once a month. No-one stuck a toe out of place after Adam Williams.

Zoe thought about the French teacher as she steadied the glass door to the staff room. If it was to make the slightest click Mrs Perdue would hear. She had a face not dissimilar to the fox of her coat; a shapely structure with a slightly protruding parrot mouth. Her dress sense matched that of a colour-blind peacock, and her well shaven legs seemed to slither like snakes independently. Maybe Mrs Perdue was second cousin to all of these, but Zoe found this pondering ridiculous. Turning around for one last peek into the Perdue's lair Zoe froze.

Screaming, she risked the slapping of her hand to her mouth. Mrs Perdue was hovering some inches from the floor! It appeared before Zoe like a poorly budgeted remake of the Wizard of Oz, where Mrs Perdue was most definitely the wicked witch of the West.

It was then that she heard footsteps behind her. The headmaster did not notice Zoe, so she continued to watch the drama unfolding. He entered the staff room come office. Mrs Perdue was on firm ground, but the dreaded words that seemed to settle the fate of the students were looming in the air. Just when Zoe had presumed Mrs Perdue could be mortal and was only a little larger than normal she heard it.

"Yes, I should think another week will suit. I will be happy to replace you as head," Mrs Perdue was agreeing.

Straining to hear more so that she could report to the other students, Zoe attempted get closer to the glass door.

The other voice in the former staff room replied, "Of course. You will make a wonderful headmistress."

Click. Clack. Click. Clack. The worst was still to come. The birds outside the red brick establishment sang to the rhythm of Mrs Perdue's heels. Click. Clack.