School had only been back in session for two weeks when I got summoned to the principal's office. We were all caught in the January doldrums. Too much snow, too much homework, no fun to be had until Spring Break.

Kids were being called to the principal's office every day for all sorts of minor offenses. Smoking in the restrooms, making out in the locker rooms, excessive tardies. I wracked my brain for what I might have done. Did someone narc on Gabby and me? We'd put rainbow heart stickers all over the Abstinence Saves Lives posters. The hall had been empty. We hadn't even told Toby and Harv, though Gaby had proclaimed it a major victory in the Propaganda Wars. I texted Gaby while I trudged down the stairs to the first-floor principal's office.

Me: I've been summoned by The Waring

Gabs: Oh shit. What for?

Me: No idea. LMK if you get called down too. Gotta keep our stories straight.

Gabs: There is no story to keep straight.

Me: Exactly. L8r. I'm there.

I stowed my phone and went in with what I hoped was an innocent and confused smile on my face. The school secretary gave me a walleyed once over and waved me straight through to Ms. Waring's office. I could feel my face freezing into a mask of anxiety. All this fuss couldn't be over some defaced posters. Stupid posters, at that.

"Ah, Miss Mator. Close the door, please."

Principal Waring looked over the top of her glasses at me and gave a nod as I shut the steel door with its wire mesh reinforced window. Sitting in the visitor's chair across from her was Mrs. Fiona Brown. My caseworker from Social Services. All the feeling left my hands and feet, and only locking my knees kept me upright.

"Nice to see you again, Kelsey."

Mrs. Brown smiled her most professional bland smile, the one that made me want to run far away and never come back. Her round, middle-aged face was framed by the dreaded "mom bob". Hers grew straight out of her head in a very modern shade of orange that Gaby would kill for. She was wearing her usual black yoga "dress" pants and tasteful boring blouse but was missing the usual giant clipboard full of forms and questionnaires.

"How are you doing at the Simmons? Fitting in okay? Getting along with Kim?"

"Yes ma'am," I said.

Kim was crying herself to sleep every night since Christmas, and wouldn't say why. I didn't think mentioning that to Mrs. Brown would bring either of us anything but a heap of trouble. And the less said about Mark Simmons, the better. Nobody was going to take Kim and my word over his about anything, ever.

Fiona Brown ran her acrylic french tips through her mom bob and cleared her throat. Minutes ticked by into eternity while the adults stared each other down.

"I'm sure you're wondering why we called you in today," Principal Waring said. "And I don't want you out of class any longer than is necessary."

"Kelsey, we've discovered that you have a living relative here in town." Mrs. Brown held one hand up, "stop" style before continuing. "He's much too old to take on any guardianship duties. However, he has requested that you come visit him."

"Okay," I said, forcing the word through the giant croak in my throat.

I wasn't in trouble. I wasn't going to be transferred to a new foster house or into State School. Visiting some elderly distantly related geezer sounded like no big deal in comparison to the scenarios that had been passing through my head.

"I apologize, Kelsey," Principal Waring said with a sigh. "This is partially my fault. After the Winter Formal, my mother decided to go visit Olen Gillespie."

"That's your mother's father's younger brother," Mrs. Brown cut in with a tight smile directed at Principal Waring.

"She thought something should be done. . ."

"He was unaware of your presence here in town. . ."

"I do try to get her not to meddle in school business. . ."

"These situations have to be handled with great care . ."

"Excuse me, Principal Waring, Mrs. Brown? Could you talk one at at time? You're giving me a headache." The cacophony of their polite not quite shouting match had ceased to make any sense at all to me.

"He's your great-uncle. He'd like to have you over for tea after school today," Principal Waring said before Mrs. Brown could speak.

Behind her, the big master clock of the school day ticked down to 5 minutes left until the lunch bell. They glared at each other for a long moment, and then Mrs. Brown let out a labored sigh.

"I spoke to your foster mom and she didn't think it would be a good idea for you to go. But Mr. Gillespie has become very insistent. Out of respect for his advanced age and the fact that he is a distant blood relative of yours, I feel we should discuss the matter more fully."

"With all due respect to you and your expertise, Mrs. Brown, Kelsey is seventeen and able to decide for herself whether she'd like to meet a relative."

Principal Waring reached across the desk and handed me an envelope. Mrs. Brown tried to swat it away, but I clamped onto it just as the lunch bell rang.

"I'll be back at three-thirty to pick you up then," Mrs. Brown said. She hauled her middle-aged pudge out of the chair and clomped to the office door.

"That's all, Kelsey. You can go." Principal Waring had already shifted her attention back to the mountain of paperwork before her.

"Ma'am?"

She looked up with an impatient huff. "Yes?"

"Thank you." I felt my face turning hot. "I mean, thank your mother for me, please."

Her eyes went back to the paperwork. "Don't thank either of us until after you've met him."

The school secretary squeezed by me with a tray of food from the cafeteria for Principal Waring. Meatloaf again. At least since I had my job at Thriftporium, I could buy my own hot lunch, Ann Simmon's latest diet for me be damned. And wouldn't I have quite the story to tell the gang? Mysterious summons from geezer relatives.

I looked at the envelope. It was heavy cream stationary with a gold inner flap. Inside was a single sheet card. Handwritten on one side was a note:

Mr. Olen Gillespie requests the honor of the presence of Miss Kelsey Mator for tea at 4:00 pm Thursday, January 10th.

It was signed with an old-fashioned flourish of a signature, the "G" of Gillespie all fancy with a tail that traveled under the other letters. Maybe I was related to local royalty after all. I stopped and carefully stowed the invitation out of sight. Maybe I should take a clue from Principal Waring and wait to see what happened at this tea party before I shared the weirdness with anyone else.

Image by from Felix Lichtenfeld on Pixabay