Margaret Shield (sophist) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2017-09-30 23:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | !narrative, r * chel, r: margaret shield |
WHO: Margaret Shield
WHEN: Dunhaven High School
WHERE: In the stacks
SUMMARY: This time it's Margaret that needs pizza.
WARNINGS: None.
"Really, the library's closed. I appreciate that you think the technological age is ruining your academic expression but the truth is, I have an evening appointment and I cannot keep the library open 24 hours like a university. Your PDF copy will tide you over until the morning, Harriet. I promise you." The student stood, shouldering a bag that had to weight at least as much as she did. And left with a quick expulsion of breath and a hurried promise to return as soon as her study hall found her with additional time. Margaret would suggest that she become a student aide if it didn't mean that she could stay after hours. And it wasn't that there was an appointment, per say. There was a bottle of wine with her name on it as well as a fully-stocked DVR full of the most mind-numbing television she could stomach. (Episodes and episodes of Big Brother.) As she walked through the stacks, flipping the lights and reshelving or organizing the spines, she found one book hanging almost completely off the shelf. As she pushed it back into place, she read the title: Dilly's Fillies: The Women of Bletchley Park. What a monstrosity of a title for women who put their hearts and their souls into bringing the Axis Powers to their knees. And that one moment brought a different flood of memories. "But a woman shouldn't fight." Those gleaming red fingernails again. They held a paper inviting Margaret Carter to join the Special Operations Executive. Mr. Edwards gave her that look - the look he saved for codebreakers who wanted out when they were married - and she backed off quickly, folding the letter to place in her valise. She had a feeling someone had a hand in the giving of this paper; the beginning and end of which was her brother, her Michael. And as she continued on, she couldn't help but let that small thread of delight weave within her own doubts about fitness and propriety. Michael was going to have a field day with this discussion. And he would be home, in fact. On leave just in time for her engagement party to Fred. Margaret's hand came off the book as if shocked and disoriented, she pulled her phone out. First on her mind was Sarah -- get over here and tell me I'm not crazy. She may have still been in her classroom, cleaning up after evening instruction. Her thumb hovered a moment longer before it passed over her gently and landed at Rupert's name. [1] Remember when you wanted a beard and pizza? |