by M. K. Easley
“OK, so what do we need to do?” Devin asked, finally looking up. His expression was mildly irritated, and he checked his watch. “How much do we need to donate to the Academy to make this go away?”
Tristan’s eyebrows shot up along with almost everyone else’s.
“To cover all of our bases,” Dean LeFebvre ignored Devin’s question, “I’m going to play the video of the attack now for you. Any questions can please be reserved for afterwards. Mr. and Mrs. Benson, thank you for coming in, and I apologize for inconveniencing you for such a short amount of time. I just wanted you to be aware of what is happening, and to commend Beckett for coming to me immediately once he saw Tristan was safe in the care of her siblings. You can stay, or you may go now, whichever you prefer.”
Raymond stood, but Gabriella Benson stayed seated. She looked up at Raymond incredulously.
“What?” Raymond snapped, and Tristan looked at Beckett, who was looking at the floor.
“You want to leave?”
“You want to stay? You don’t trust the Dean’s word that we’re done here? I don't want to see Tristan being attacked, do you?”
Gabriella’s face turned red, and Tristan looked away, up at the stained glass windows. She wished desperately that she hadn’t witnessed any of that, realizing that if this was how the Bensons acted towards each other in public, she could only imagine how they acted towards each other in private.
“Thank you, Dean LeFebvre,” Raymond said, holding out his hand, which the Dean shook reluctantly. “We’re very proud of Beckett, and appreciate you looping us in.”
“Thank you again for coming.”
“Tristan, hang in there,” Raymond said, and Tristan thanked him, caught off-guard. She watched as Beckett stood, following his parents out of the lounge, a miserable expression on his face. Tristan willed him to turn around, and, when he reached the door, he did just that. Tristan held up a finger, then ran it into her hair as though she was scratching an itch in an attempt to be inconspicuous, and Beckett nodded.
Dean LeFebvre turned the laptop at an angle everyone could see, and hit play. Tristan chose not to watch -- she’d lived it, had been reliving it, and didn’t need to see it captured on film to remember how everything had gone down.
When the video finished playing, you could hear a pin drop in the room. Dean LeFebvre looked horrified, though she’d already seen the footage, and Chief Bordelon looked disgusted. The icy vibe Sol and Umbris had been throwing had rapidly changed to pure, red hot anger, and while Victoria had opened her mouth to say something that was probably going to be flippant, she glanced at the Wallaces and thought better of it.
Emmeline was back to weeping quietly into her tissue, but everyone ignored her.
“Mr. and Mrs. Wallace, Tristan, if you would like to press charges, Chief Bordelon will be happy to assist.”
“Now I don’t think that will be necessary,” Devin spoke up, holding out his hand. “Emmeline made a mistake. She dared her friends to do something stupid while they had Tristan surrounded, and they did it. It’s not her fault they listened to her. And if you ask me, that girl who walked by and smiled should be the one getting charges pressed against her!”
“Dared?” Sol repeated, her voice scarily quiet. “Dared?”
All eyes on Emmeline.
“It was planned,” Emmeline said in a small voice, not looking at anyone. “We’d been planning it for weeks.”
“Emmeline!” Victoria snapped, and Emmeline looked at her helplessly.
“I don’t want to press charges,” Tristan spoke up, carefully rubbing her dry eyes with two fingers. “I agree that isn’t necessary.”
Emmeline finally looked at her, fear on her face, and Tristan looked away.
“Mr. and Mrs. Wallace? As Tristan is still a minor, you are able to press charges if you wish.”
“We respect Tristan’s decision,” Umbris said on a nod.
“Very well. Chief, thank you for being here today. I appreciate your time.”
The Chief bid everyone goodbye, leaving Dean LeFebvre to it.
“Emmeline, as you know, Jamestown Academy has a zero tolerance policy in place for bullying, and in place for violence, both of which you’ve violated.”
“She only violated one!” Devin protested, and the Dean quieted him with a look.
“I wasn’t bullying her!” Emmeline cried. “I was looking for proof, to show everyone once and for all that what I’ve been saying all these years is true. She’s a witch, and this town is in danger as long as she lives here! And I wasn't even going to do it yesterday, but that Eva Revet somehow knew about the plan and followed Tristan until she saw she was alone, and then she told me to do it in the name of the Lord!”
“Here we go,” Tristan muttered.
“A… witch?” Umbris frowned, looking from Emmeline to her parents.
“Tristan can do things, supernatural things, I’ve seen it with my own eyes! I saw her do it more than once when we were kids, and I haven’t seen her do anything in recent years but that’s probably because she got smart about hiding it! I have to go home and pray every single night after school just to get rid of the chill she gives me in my bones.”
Victoria gathered Emmeline to her chest, looking at the Wallaces in horror.
“She’s insane,” Tristan said, and Sol bumped her knee.
“I’m not! Something even happened to me right here in this office! I didn’t say those things about planning her attack of my own free will, I was forced to say them!”
“Ms. Strandquest, that is quite enough!” Dean LeFebvre raised her voice, and everyone quieted down. She pinched the bridge of her nose, then took a deep, calming breath. “As it’s your senior year, I believe expulsion would be a punishment that borders on cruel, though make no mistake that it would be a punishment that fits the crime. Instead, you will be serving a one-month out of school suspension, effective the day you are to return from winter break. Mr. and Mrs. Strandquest, Emmeline, if you’ll stay once I advise the Wallaces they may go, we will work out the details privately.”
“Oh this is ridiculous! A suspension will still go on her permanent record!” Mr. Strandquest yelled, throwing up his hands, but Dean LeFebvre continued to ignore his ranting.
“Additionally, before Emmeline may return to school, she must complete four consecutive weeks of outpatient counseling services. This is crucial to her return to Jamestown Academy, and no amount of arguing, or money, will change this. This is not the first report I’ve gotten of Emmeline’s radical religious claims, and I believe she will benefit from a thorough evaluation. It wouldn't be the first time we've had a student crack under the pressures of their senior year.”
“Crack under-- now that is not your call to make! You have gone too far now!” Devin spluttered, standing and pointing right in Dean LeFebvre’s face. “My daughter does not need therapy. She is a devoted servant of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, and if she says she has seen and felt evil, I believe she has seen and felt evil!”
Devin pointed to Tristan, who merely raised her eyebrows as Umbris slowly rose to his feet.
“I’ll ask you once, Devin, and there will be no asking a second time. Leave my daughter out of this; she has been through enough at the hands of your family and your beliefs. If for some reason you choose not to, I’ll be more than happy to meet you at the Lavelle police station after this so we can get started on pressing those charges.”
“We’re leaving,” Devin said, spinning to face his family. “Let’s go, now.”
“If you go, you’ll have to come back,” Dean LeFebvre said, also standing. “If you refuse to come back to meet and go over the details of Emmeline’s suspension, I will be forced to push through an expulsion in its place.”
Tristan thought Devin might explode. Meanwhile, Emmeline was crying noisily into Victoria’s chest, and Victoria had her eyes closed tightly, praying in a low voice. Tristan couldn’t believe the gall of any of them. They were outraged over the idea of a
suspension going on Emmeline’s record, but nothing else? Their blatant refusal to see that Emmeline had brought this on herself, had created her own problem that she was not getting out of so easily this time, was mind-boggling, but also explained a lot about who Emmeline was as a person.
“Mr. and Mrs. Wallace, Tristan,” Dean LeFebvre turned to them. “You can go. I will have the other girls and their families in over the next couple of days to discuss their consequences. Thank you so much for coming in today. Tristan, once again, I am so incredibly sorry you’ve had to go through this.”
“Thank you,” Tristan said genuinely.
“Oh, before you go, your backpack is in my office. Beckett brought it up to the school yesterday afternoon. Let me grab that for you.”
Tristan and Sol stood with their backs to the Strandquests, while Umbris kept his eye on them. Dean LeFebvre returned shortly, handing Tristan her gray and white bag, and Tristan slipped the gray leather straps over her shoulders, thanking her once again.
The three of them left the lounge, Tristan exiting first. At the far end of the hall, she could have sworn she saw a flash of copper disappear around the corner, but it happened so fast she couldn't be sure. Besides, Tristan was distracted by her disappointment of the empty halls -- Beckett had not waited after all.
“Are you OK?” Sol asked, as they walked back to the Academy’s entrance.
“Yes. That was strange though, wasn’t it?”
“Hmm.” Sol seemed to agree, but said nothing more.
They stepped out into the afternoon sun, and there was Beckett, leaning against one of the large concrete blocks flanking the Academy’s steps. He looked up as they approached, then straightened up when he noticed Sol and Umbris looking at him.
“Beckett,” Umbris said, coming to a stop in front of him, and Tristan looked at her Dad, her heart starting to race. What was he doing?
“Mr. Wallace, Mrs. Wallace,” Beckett greeted.
“We owe you for stepping in on behalf of Tristan yesterday,” Umbris said, holding out his hand, and all Tristan could think about was how weird it was to hear him call her Tristan. “We will not soon forget your kindness.”
Beckett shook Umbris’s hand.
“It was the least I could do, sir.”
“I’ll be right there,” Tristan told her parents, inclining her head towards the parking lot. They nodded and walked off, talking quietly to each other.
Tristan looked at Beckett.
“Thanks for waiting. I didn’t think it would take that much longer.”
“It was fine. I didn’t mind.” Beckett hesitated, and when he spoke again, his voice was tender. “How are you?”
“I’ll be OK. Thank you, for yesterday,” Tristan said, her eyes searching his. Her gaze dropped to his throat as he swallowed, nodding, but roamed back up over his face. She wanted to live in the way he was looking at her. “I owe you, too.”
“No,” Beckett said fiercely, shaking his head. “No, you don’t, Tristan. Don’t ever think you owe me anything.”
Tristan looked to her right, seeing Umbris and Sol watching her and Beckett from where they stood, beside the school's fountain.
“I guess I should go.” Tristan scrunched her mouth to one side. “Do you want to stop by later? Maybe we can talk.”
“Yes,” Beckett said immediately, his shoulders sagging with relief. “I would like that. What time?”
“Any time. I’ll be there.”
Beckett nodded, and Tristan gave him a small smile, walking off to join her parents.
“So which one of you got to Emmeline?” Tristan asked, once they were in the car.
“What do you mean?” Sol twisted around in her seat to look at Tristan.
“Oh come on. You know she wasn't lying about being forced to confess.”
“It wasn't us, honey,” Sol said, shaking her head. “I thought she was acting.”
“I did too,” Umbris agreed.
Tristan sat back in her seat. She knew Sol and Umbris wouldn't lie to her, so what was going on?
“So Beckett is coming over later?” Sol asked lightly, and Tristan groaned.
“Really guys? Eavesdropping?” Tristan looked out the window, a smile on her face. She was almost always grateful for her parents, almost always annoyed by their overstepping, but this morning was different. This morning, everything had changed.
***
Beckett showed up a few hours later, and Tristan stepped out onto the porch, pulling the door closed behind her.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” Beckett smiled at her, and Tristan smiled back, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Do you want to walk?”
“Sure. Lead the way.”
Tristan nodded, and they set off around the house to cut through the backyard. As they came around, they ran into Olivia, who was lying in the grass. She bolted upright.
“What are you doing here?” Olivia asked Beckett, a storm cloud passing over her face.
“I invited him. It's OK, O,” Tristan said, her voice even.
Olivia looked at Tristan with a mixed expression and then, eyeing Beckett one more time, flopped back onto the grass, looking up at the sky and ignoring them both.
“She's really angry with me,” Beckett commented, once they'd gotten a good distance away.
“She's angry with everyone right now, herself and Evander included.”
“I know how she feels.”
Tristan said nothing. She and Beckett entered the woods at the back of the property, which provided much-needed shade. Tristan pulled a tiny bottle of bug spray out of her pocket and quickly sprayed the air in front of them, so they passed right through the chemical cloud.
“The bugs can get bad back here,” Tristan explained needlessly, and Beckett smiled.
“Thanks for looking out for us.”
They walked in silence for a bit, Tristan wanting to take Beckett to her favorite spot, but her body was sore and tired, and she didn't know how far they'd get. She must have been making a face, because Beckett looked at her curiously.
“Are you OK?”
“Yes, I just--” Tristan winced, a sharp pain in her left ribs interrupting her. “I just need to take a rest for a second.”
“Tristan, maybe we shouldn't be doing this,” Beckett said, watching her clutch her side. “I didn't even think to suggest we just sit and talk, and I should have, I'm sorry.”
Tristan leaned her back against a tree for support. “Don't be sorry. I should have realized myself that this wasn't a great idea.”
“Do you want me to carry you back?” Beckett asked earnestly, and Tristan laughed.
“No. I'll be fine.”
And after a few minutes she was fine, so they went back the way they came, Olivia nowhere to be found when they arrived in the yard. Tristan and Beckett sank down into the grass, and Beckett looked at his hands before speaking.
“I am so sorry for how yesterday went down. I shouldn't have said what I did to you. I was up all night feeling guilty for setting everything off. Seeing you yesterday afternoon, on the ground…” Beckett trailed off, and Tristan pulled her knees up to her chest.
“How did you know to find me?” Tristan asked quietly, and Beckett shook his head, frowning.
“I don't know. I was at my locker and I heard you screaming, so I just ran. I didn't know where I was going, but I guess I just followed the sound to where you were.”
It was Tristan's turn to frown. “You heard me screaming from your locker? On the other side of the building?”
“I know it sounds crazy. I haven't figured it out either, but yes. Very clearly.”
It didn't sound crazy to Tristan; it sounded like they'd once again connected psychically, but how? How did that keep happening?
“Tristan.” Beckett looked at her, his eyes so soulful that she could happily stare into them for an eternity. “Things are going to be different now. I'm sorry I've stood by so passively all these years. I can't change that, but I c
an change going forward. I will change.”
“Those are nice words, but I guess we'll see what happens after break, right?” Tristan responded honestly, scrunching her nose a little bit. Her tone was kind, which softened the rejection of his sentiments, and she looked down at her fingers, which she ran back and forth through the soft grass.
“That's fair,” Beckett replied, nodding, his expression serious. “I look forward to proving it to you.”
The sun disappeared behind the clouds, and Tristan looked up, noticing a storm rolling in.
“We're gonna get soaked in a few minutes if we keep sitting here.”
“I should probably get going anyway.”
They stood, and Tristan walked Beckett back around to the front of the house.
“Thanks again for waiting after the meeting today.”
“You're welcome. It was fine; I had company.” Beckett winked, and Tristan tilted her head.
“Who?”
Beckett looked surprised.
“Evander. Olivia was there too, but she avoided me.”
“What?” Tristan frowned. “The twins were here, not at school.”
“Then I must have been hallucinating.” Beckett grinned. “I'll see you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” Tristan echoed, distracted.
“I was thinking maybe I could stop by again, if that's OK.”
“Oh. Oh, sure, OK.” Tristan nodded, and Beckett gave her a smile that made her stomach tremble.
“Alright. See you tomorrow then, Tristan.”
Tristan nodded again, watching him, and Beckett lingered, not wanting to leave her. He finally forced himself to turn away, feeling all wrong for doing so, and the skies opened up just as he got in his car, as though they agreed he'd made the wrong decision.
Tristan stayed on the porch even after Beckett had disappeared from sight, and Olivia came out to join her.
“Hey.” Tristan looked her over.
“I don't get you,” Olivia said, looking like she was still hurting. “How can you even look at him?”
“It wasn't his fault.”