We Need to Talk About Kevin_ A Novel - Lionel Shriver [184]
“Not separately. I told the whole class that if they want to use my classroom to practice their scenes after school, I’d make it available.”
“So you did invite Kevin to stay after school, then.” As Pagorski sputtered, Strickland proceeded, “Have you ever admired Kevin’s looks?”
“I may have said something about his having very striking features, yes. I try to instill confidence in my students—”
“How about this ‘speaking from the diaphragm.’ Did you say that?”
“Well, yes—”
“And have you put your hand on his chest, to indicate where the diaphragm is?”
“Maybe, but I never touched him on—”
“Or on his lower back, when ‘improving’ his posture?”
“Possibly. He has a tendency to slump, and it ruins his—”
“What about the selection from Equus? Did Kevin choose this passage?”
“I recommended it.”
“Why not something from Our Town, or Neil Simon, a little less racy?”
“I try to find plays that students can relate to, about things that are important to them—”
“Things like sex.”
“Well, yes, among other things, of course—.” She was getting flustered.
“Did you describe the content of this play as ‘erotic’?”
“Maybe, probably, yes! I thought that drama about adolescent sexuality and its confusions would naturally appeal—”
“Miss Pagorski, are you interested in adolescent sexuality?”
“Well, who isn’t?” she cried. Someone should have given the poor woman a shovel, so intent was she on digging her own grave. “But Equus isn’t steamy and explicit, it’s all symbolism—”
“Symbolism you were eager to explain. And did you talk about horses to Kevin?”
“Of course, the play—”
“Did you talk about stallions, Miss Pagorski.”
“Well, we did discuss what made them such common symbols of virility—”
“And what does make them ‘virile’?”
“Well, they’re muscular and very beautiful and powerful, sleek—”
“Just like teenage boys,” Strickland noted sardonically. “Did you ever draw attention to a horse’s penis. To its size?”
“Maybe; how could you ignore it? But I never said—”
“Some people can’t ignore it, apparently.”
“You don’t understand! These are young people and they’re easily bored. I have to do something to get them excited!”
Strickland just let that one sit there for a beat. “Yes, well,” he said. “You seem to have succeeded there.”
Deathly pale, Pagorski turned to our son. “What did I ever do to you?”
“That’s just what we’re trying to find out,” Strickland intervened. “But we’ve got more testimony to get through, and you’ll have opportunity to respond. Leonard Pugh?”
Lenny murmured to Kevin before sauntering to the center chair. Surely at any moment one of the boys would start writhing in agony because Goody Pagorski was smiting them with evil spirits.
“Now Leonard, you, too, met with your drama teacher after school?”
“Yeah, she seemed real hot to have a conference,” said Lenny, with his poo-making smile. His nose stud was infected again, the left nostril red and puffy. He’d recently gotten a fade, which was neo-Nazi short with the letter Z shaved into one side. When I’d asked him what the Z stood for, he’d said, Whatever, which I’d been forced to point out began with a W.
“Can you tell us what happened?”
“It was just like Kevin said. I thought we was just gonna practice and shit. And I come in the room and she like, shuts the door? She’s wearing this really short skirt, you know, you can almost see her cheeks.” Lenny mugged a bit.
“And did you practice your work for class?” asked Strickland, though coaching proved quite unnecessary. More, detail proved Lenny’s strong suit.
“We sure practiced something!” said Lenny. “She said, ‘I’ve been watching you in the back row, when I’m sitting at my desk? And some afternoons I get so wet I have to do myself in class!’”
Strickland looked a little queasy. “Did Miss Pagorski do anything that you thought was inappropriate?”
“Well then she like, sits on the edge of her desk? With her legs spread wide open. So I go up to the desk, and I can see she’s not wearing panties. It’s like, this, wide open beaver, you know? All