In A Glass Coffin



Miss Parker knows she shouldn’t be down here. She knows that Mr Raines is on the prowl and is looking for any excuse to catch her and tell her father what she’s been doing. Mr Raines is a bad man, Miss Parker remembers the last thanksgiving before when … but daddy says not to think of that. Daddy says not to remember, to forget, not to grieve. Life goes on, daddy says.

Daddy says not to go down here, too.

For a moment she wishes Jarod was here to tell her they had gone too far, that they’d be caught and Miss Parker, be careful, you don’t want your father to catch you.

Really, when you thought about it, Jarod was a bit of a stick-in-the-mud.

She shrugs off the momentary wish of companionship and focuses on her path. Knowing that she’s doing something daddy doesn’t want her to sends a shiver all the way down to her toes. She knows it’s wrong but she does it with Jarod all the time, it won’t make any difference by herself. Besides says a rebellious little voice -- quickly squashed, of course -- daddy doesn’t come home until late, he leaves her school plays early, and doesn’t come to parent teacher interviews.

She doesn’t know what that means -- it’s not as if she doesn’t love him or anything -- but somehow that makes this okay.

It’s cold and dark in the lower sublevels and Miss Parker can’t believe that Faith survives here at all. She wishes once again that Jarod were here, but Sydney was quite adamant; Jarod had work.

Jarod always has work. It doesn’t seem fair. None of the children she knows have so much work. The most they ever get is homework, and that’s hardly difficult.

As she crawls -- taking a left here, a right here, almost at random it would seem -- it occurs to Miss Parker that she doesn’t really want to share this feeling; the adrenaline and mystery. Not today anyway.

No one ever bothers to lock the air vent entrances. There are no children in the Centre other than Miss Parker; everyone knows that. And Miss Parker wouldn’t climb through air vents.

Miss Parker smiles ever so slightly as she thinks of that.

Faith is just where she left her: lying in the coffin. That’s wrong, she thinks. No one should lie in a coffin before they’re dead.

It reminds her of the story of Snow White, lying in her glass coffin while all the animals gathered around. Awoken by a prince.

She wishes that Faith was like Snow White, so Miss Parker could find a prince and Faith could wake up and be friends with her. For a moment she entertains the idea of Jarod trying, but this is quickly dismissed. Only she kisses Jarod.

Miss Parker remembers talking to her mother about the fairytale. She asked why it was always the girl who got herself in trouble? Why did the princess eat the poison apple? Really, she had said, some of the boys in her class would eat anything if you gave them a dollar.

Her mother had laughed and said it was called sexism, but Miss Parker could do anything she wanted.

“Could I be the prince,” she asked in open disbelief.

“If you wanted to, darling. I’m sure the tights would suit you very well,” her mother had replied, and then tickled her.

Gently Miss Parker shakes Faith. She’s still alive; she can hear her breathing. Nothing happens so she shakes a little bit harder wishing she could be that magic prince just like her mother said, even if she’s far too old to believe in fairy tales.

Still nothing.

Jarod had said Faith was sick, a type of poison running through her making her tired and weak.

Almost like Snow White…

Miss Parker doesn’t believe in fairy tales, she doesn’t believe that she can be a prince, but it doesn’t stop her from sweeping back her hair and leaning forward; gently waking Faith with a kiss.