The Liar's Diary [antikvár]

There was so much talk about the new music teacher before she arrived that her coming was almost anticlimactic. However, I would soon learn that Ali Mather never allowed herself to be upstaged—not even by her own advance publicity. The very first day of classes, she wrinkled her nose when a student called her Mrs. Mather. "Please," she said. "Call me Ali." Well, you can bet our principal, Simon Murphy, straightened her out on that one. On the second day of school, the words MRS. MATHER appeared in huge block letters across her blackboard. Smiling ironically, Ali corrected herself: The students were to call her Mrs. Mather as Mr. Murphy requested. By the end of her little speech, however, it was obvious that in the us-against-them atmosphere that frequently permeated the school, Ali was one of them. Even if they did have to call her Mrs. Mather. As the school secretary, I was the first one to see her on opening day. She had to be pushing forty, but she zipped past the front desk with such energy that I almost mistook her for a student. Maybe it was the hair that flowed over her shoulders in undulant waves, or the jeans she was sporting in defiance of the dress code. But mostly, I think it was that zest—a spirit that practically gave off sparks as she sailed down the hallway.