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The janitor begins to load up a brown supply cart with everything he would need for the classrooms. Three types of stain removers for different types of stains. Trash bags. Paper towels and rags. Wood polish. Blue window cleaner and a thin, black squeegee. KNOCK. KNOCK. "Hello?" A voice squeaks. The janitor turns around. "Yes?" The assistant principal stands there with a nervous look in his eyes. The janitor's eyes narrow. "My paper shredder is broken. Can you take a look at it?" The janitor nods. Sure thing, need more time for your new Lolita? The janitor follows the principal through the still crowded hallways and towards the white door that separates the administration from the rest of the school. Inside, the blue carpets smelled vaguely of cleaner with the damp, cold smell of the air conditioner. "Over here." The janitor follows him into his office. An overstuffed, green leather chair is framed by the dark oak desk. Hunting dogs in a wall painting are lit up by reflected light from a green banker's lamp. "There." The principal points to a black shredder on a tub framed stand where a transparent plastic bag partly filled with shredded paper sits unplugged, by a stack of papers. The janitor removes the shredder and pulls out a screw driver. The assistant principal sits down in his overstuffed chair and begins to leaf through a stack of papers, sipping from a white mug emblazoned with an image of a red shield framing three small books all arranged in an upside down triangle with the words "VE RI TAS" written in the books. "Truth?" The janitor asks. The principal swallows quickly, burning his tongue in the process and then coughing. "I'm sorry?" The janitor continues to disassemble the shredder. Emily had been saving their money to fly out and spend a week with her parents. The janitor notices a few pay stubs in the stacks of student files. It had been hard enough to pay all the bills. The janitor takes the blade assembly out. The metal was black and parts of it had fused, still hot to the touch. 'You need a new shredder, this one has been overworked. The blades are stuck; I can't fix it for less than a new one would cost. I don't really have parts for this anyway." "Is there any way you could get it to work?" That's what 'no' means. "No." "When can I get a new one?" "A few days, I have to put an order in." |