Mr. Hoffman's Room
" I have to go to Mr. Hoffman's room"
When Diana says this, she pulls a face.
It's a strange sight to see her delicate, elfish features contorting in such a way. Though not as emotionless as Eleanor, Diana's countenance is known for its few, striking expressions: the impish grin, the cruel sneer and especially the humiliating rolling of her sharp hazel eyes.
But the way she looks these days is different. As soon as those words escape her lips, they become pursed in disgust. Her nose wrinkles and her eyes, suddenly hollow, are mere slits as they gaze upon you.
" I have to go to Mr. Hoffman's room"
The girls look upon her with curiosity, even Eleanor. Generally, a trip to Mr. Hoffman's room is considered an honor that very few of us are bestowed. Indeed, the only chosen one besides Diana was Clara, but with significant stares and mournful shakes of our heads, we were well aware of her fall from grace.
I can almost see with clarity the first time she told us the news: Eyes a-sparkle and her mouth in an insolent tilt, she strutted around the bedroom and bragged about her new position in the orphanage.
"I get to be the one who cleans the fish-tank from now on. Guess old Clara couldn't handle it anymore, and I'll be taking care of that precious koi!", she had trilled. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I have to go to Mr. Hoffman's room".
Starved for love as we were, our envy was noticeable and it fed Diana's ego for the first few weeks. Just before bed she'd update us on how everything was going: "Koi's looking quite bloated these days, I have no idea what they put in that food of his"…"Mr. Hoffman said that I am exceptional at cleaning the tank. Did you hear that? Exceptional!", etc.
But one day Diana came back in a different mood. She shuffled irritably to her bunk bed (the top one, of course), her face slightly dented by a small frown. She reminded me of storm clouds in the far distance, dark and flashing brightly but with no sound. We received no updates on the Koi that night, or any other evening afterwards.
One day, while getting some supplies in the basement, I found her sitting there alone on a wooden chair. As soon as she spotted me she seemed ready to snarl with a vengeance…but, curiously, she hesitated. It was as if the absence of an audience made humiliating me a bit less satisfying.
"Do you know anything about mermaids?" she asked faintly.
I had never seen her like this: unsure, pensive, without answers. As one of the oldest, Diana always liked to tell us she knew everything, maybe even more than her know-it-all friend Meg; yet here we were.
"I-I think we have a book about them in the library, have you asked Meg?" I asked, slightly scared.
She shook her head and gave me one of her famous eye-rolls. Something about her actions seemed to say "of course not, I couldn't ask her, I can't let her know about this".
She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped. She looked at me seriously for perhaps a minute, but it felt like such a long time. "Do you think Mr. Hoffman is a good teacher?" she asked, and something in her voice shook. Her expression was unfathomable. What did she mean?
I gazed at her, saying nothing. What could I say about the man that itched to beat me for not paying attention in class? The man who constantly reminded me that I was filthy, unlovable, lazy and stupid? I was aware of how close she was to our headmaster, and speaking ill of him terrified me into thinking Diana would snitch.
Despite my silence, she seemed to understand what I meant. She nodded slowly, but there was a very irritated energy coming from her; I could feel it wasn't the answer she was looking for, and her face fell back into its insolent frown. "Oh just go away" she hissed. "Even Duchesses need time alone, I'll have you know".
I quickly ran up the stairs and back to the first floor. For the first time in my life, I had a conversation with Diana that didn't end in tears and humiliation. Perhaps my amazement over this fact made me deaf to the sob that echoed in the basement, just as soon as I left.