Gemotions

The PTA meeting felt like a bizarre time warp. Margaret stared, dumbfounded, at Ms. Periwinkle. The same Ms. Periwinkle who, at age seven, she’d been convinced, hated her. Now, here was Ms. Periwinkle again, her hair still in that severe bun, her voice still sharp, her disapproval radiating across the room.

Her palms were sweating. She found herself subconsciously straightening her posture, trying to appear taller, more competent. She avoided eye contact, focusing instead on the beige walls and the chipped paint. During the discussion about fundraising, she found herself agreeing with everything Ms. Periwinkle said, even though she had strongly held views that differed.