Page 5 of The PTA President
“Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself sooner. I’m Candace Montgomery, the PTA president,” I say, filling the pause before she notices.
She laughs, slamming her hands on the table. “There’s a PTApresident,are you for real right now? How much does that pay?”
Confused by her question and a little embarrassed to talk about money, I lean into her. “We don’t get paid. This is a volunteer position.”
“Wow, that sucks. So, I’m stuck here all because your girl got knocked up?” she asks, leaning back against her chair.
Everyone’s knuckles go white as they grip the table, eyes locked on our new member, who looks completely unbothered. I watch as she rummages through her purse, chapstick, hairpins, then a bottle of prescription pills slips out onto the table. A soft gasp cuts across the room. No one moves. I keep my eyes on the bottle like it might come alive and do a trick.
“Dude, that's a sick watch. Bet that cost a pretty penny. Where’d you get it?” She turns to Denise.
She stumbles on her words. “It’s a Rolex, umm, it was a push present from my uh, from my husband,” she finally blurts out.
“Pretty swanky.” Nat tilts her wrist, admiring Denise’s gold watch. “What's a push present?”
“Oh, my goodness, it’s like talking to a toddler,” Betty barks. “It’s a gift from your husband after the birth of your child.”
“Are you telling me your husbands pay you to ruin your vaginas? Classic.” Without waiting for a response, she returns her attention to her phone.
Betty stares straight at me, as if this is my fault. “Good heavens, she curses too. Why don’t we just invite the Devil himself into our group?”
“If you're afraid of the Devil, lady, you’re gonna hate it when you see the tattoo on my…”
Shutting my binder hard to cut her off before she can finish. “Okay, Natalie, great to meet you. Let's move you closer to me, and we’ll finish introductions later. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today and not much time to do it.”
Although it’s an obscene gesture, her eyes roll, hypnotizing me. It’s not just their obvious beauty. There’s a depth to them. If I were a painter, I’d be chomping at the bit to get a canvas out and draw them well into the night.
“Wow. You guys must throw back a shit ton of happy pills before walking in here.”
“Candace!” Betty shrieks, shooting daggers at me.
Natalie
What the fuck kind of sick and twisted punishment is the Parent Teacher Association? Whoever invented this shit, needs to choke on a sandpaper dildo. These desperate housewives spending hours every week planning the most frivolous events is insane. I can’t count the number of brain cells I lost sitting in that pointless meeting. Around minute forty-five, I checked out, uninterested in the twenty thousand dollar sauna going into the teachers’ lounge. When I was in high school, the lounge smelled like farts and never had a clean microwave. Now they’re so high-strung they need a midday sweat session.
That Candace chick is pretty hot though, in like a fifties housewife kind of way. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was in a low ponytail, exposing her sharp collarbones. Nothing else was revealed, beyond the shit-brown sweater and denim skirt that reached her ankles. I wonder if she’s religious or if that’s the way her husband likes her to dress–Amish chic. Even though her outfit screams sex-starved mom with a wine addiction, I’m into it.
“Natalie,” the Prez calls out, the heavy door shutting behind her.
“It’s Nat. Natalie’s too formal for me,” I correct, digging through my purse for my car keys.
“Oh, uh, okay. You did amazing today. I know we can be intimidating at first, but you’ll love it after a short adjustment period,” she reassures.
“So, do you guys get the day off work for this? What’s a typical day like for a member of the prestigious PTA?” I ask, raising a brow.
Her laugh is soft. “Goodness, no. We’re too busy for an office job. I’m actually headed to afternoon aerobics, and afterwards there’s a sale at my favorite boutique. I’ve been on the hunt for this stunning pair of kitten heels.”
Honestly, I wish I’d never heard that. It took a few hot points off the Prez.
“Wow, those husbands of yours must be rolling in it. Good for you, I guess.” I glance away.
Betty pushes past both of us in a hurry. “Candace doesn’thavea husband. She’s divorced. Now move along, Avon doesn’t sell itself, now does it?”
“Ew, that’s gross. I don’t give a shit if she’s divorced, and I’ve never heard of Avon, so go shove that fake job up your ass.” How the hell does she not want to slam that bitches face through a glass window for being such a raging cunt?
Betty scoffs, racing down the long hallway. Probably not the best impression to make on day one, but how does the school allow unhinged women like that to step foot on campus?
Pink blush covers Candace’s cheeks, and I’m all too aware I might’ve just embarrassed her. She didn’t even stick up for herself. Somebody had too.
