Way to go, George, Tim thought. George’s stubborn refusal to not back down was having a positive effect on Tim’s own demeanor. Gone were the butterflies that had settled in his stomach as they’d made their way to the Principal’s office.
“I can have you suspended for disrespecting a school administrator,” Mr. Simmons threatened.
“How am I disrespecting you?”
“By talking back to me.”
“So we don’t have the right to defend ourselves?”
“All we want,” Dr. Stokely said, interrupting brusquely, “is the truth.” He leveled a serious gaze at the three boys, resting his eyes on Tim. “I am quite aware of the false accusations that have been levied against Mr. Gaines.”
“I wouldn’t call the vandalism of Heather Watkins’ locker in which dog shit was smeared all over her books and a pentagram was drawn on the inside door a false accusation,” Mr. Simmons muttered.
“Well, I do call it a false accusation,” Dr. Stokely said, still not breaking his gaze from the three boys. “You weren’t our Dean of Students then.” He turned to Mr. Simmons. “I suggest you stick with incidents that have come to you during your tenure at Spring Valley High, Mr. Simmons, and not rely on incidents I and the school board have already labeled as false!”
Mr. Simmons opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. He glanced at the other cop, then turned his gaze back to Tim.
Tim ignored him. It appeared that since arriving in Dr. Stokely’s office, the principal now had the upper hand.
“Unfortunately, I can’t ignore this most recent incident,” Dr. Stokely continued. “The police found evidence that points to you, Tim. Despite your denial, Gordon Smith has an alibi for that night.”
“So do I,” Tim said. He glanced at Officer Clapton. “We told you last night!”
“What about George and Al?” Dr. Stokely asked.
“I was home that night,” George said, still not breaking his stance.
“So was I,” Al said. He, too, looked like he’d regained his confidence under the heavy scrutiny.
The door to Dr. Stokely’s office opened and Naomi Gaines stepped in. She was dressed in a dark pantsuit; her work-attire for the week. When she saw Tim she rushed over to him, looking concerned, frightened. “Are you okay?”
Dr. Stokely quickly brought her up to speed. As he listed the charges that had been levied against the boys — the allegations of witchcraft, animal sacrifice due to a report that a student’s cat was found disemboweled, and the grave-robbing of the Reamstown cemetery — Naomi’s features quickly turned to anger. She turned to Officer Clapton, who looked embarrassed. “So. It seems I can’t trust you now, either!”
“Mrs. Gaines, if you’ll please have a seat,” Dr. Stokely said.
“No, I won’t have a seat, Dr. Stokely,” Naomi said. “I’m taking Tim home. I will call you this afternoon to arrange a meeting with my husband and I on how we can best finish out the remainder of the school year.”
The officer that was standing with Officer Clapton spoke up. “Mrs. Gaines, my name is Officer Halford. I’d like to request your permission to conduct a search of your home for evidence pertaining to the allegations that have just been levied against your son.”
“Get a search warrant,” Naomi sneered.
“Fine,” Officer Halford said. “I will.”
A man dressed in a white shirt, dark slacks, and a tie stepped in to the room; he looked like an older version of George. When he saw George he crossed the room to his son, who stood up and met his father. A moment later Al’s mother arrived.
Tim couldn’t get out of that room any quicker.
* * *
Naomi Gaines was furious.
“ — I’m just sick of this shit! I’ve had it! These people can fuck themselves!”
“We can’t just pack up and leave!” Tim’s dad said. Always the voice of reason, he was having a difficult time trying to talk Mom out of pulling up stakes and leaving town permanently.
“What else can we do? They’ve suspended the boys for the remainder of the school year! They’re trying to falsly charge them with a crime they did not commit!”
“Leaving is only going to strengthen their case,” Dad said.
Tim was sitting at the top of the staircase, listening as his parents talked downstairs in the kitchen. It was ten minutes till eleven in the evening. Despite his exhaustion, Tim couldn’t sleep. After leaving school for the day — hell, for the remaining week of the school year — Naomi and Tim had met up with George, Al, and their parents at Scooter’s, a bar and grill on Route 501, and talked. It was there that George and Al were quickly brought up to speed on Tim’s reputation in Spring Valley as the town pariah. Al had filled in some of the narrative as well, mostly based on his own observances over the last five years. This was all new to George and his father, as well as Al’s mother, who was shocked, having never heard of the incidents prior to today. Several times George and his father — a man named Bart, who worked in Lancaster as an IT manager — shook their heads in amazement. A few times, Bart said, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard!” Those comments were usually made after Naomi or Tim brought up one of the more outlandish claims that had been levied against Tim…usually the ones involving witchcraft and Satanism.
“You know…we now have people on our side,” Naomi said. “The Ulrich and Romero families. They’re as outraged as we are this is happening to their sons, and they’re even more outraged it’s been happening to us for the past five years!”
That was the bright side of this whole mess. Contrary to what Tim initially believed when they were brought to the office, George and Al had stuck by him. And most importantly, so had their parents. Their sons were being accused of the same outrageous claims as Tim, yet not once did they blame Tim or his parents for being a “bad influence.” Instead, Tim and his parents had received unequivocable support. Mr. Ulrich even said he was contacting a lawyer for them, which he’d done promptly. One of the calls Tim’s parents took earlier in the evening had been from the lawyer, who was now representing all three families.
“I know,” Dad said. “And I think that’s great. But — ”
“We are not leaving! If we leave, they win!”
“This isn’t about who wins or loses, it’s about Tim growing up in a more stable environment!”
“Well, I’m sorry I even suggested we try moving back here.” Mom’s voice raised slightly and Tim winced; he could tell she was getting angrier. “It was dumb of me to even think things might have changed around here but I was obviously wrong.”
“Naomi — ”
“Maybe we should have stayed in Baltimore where we at least had neighbors that were more open-minded. Of course you still would have had to work at that suck-ass job you hated so much — ”
“Naomi, I’m not going to get into this with you now.”
“Why not? You wanted to talk about it, so let’s talk.”
Tim could only sit at the top of the stairs, listening as his parents talked on the verge of a full-blown argument. They’d had their squabbles before, mostly over minor things. This was the first time they’d gotten into anything this heated and Tim felt bad about it. Perhaps if he wasn’t so different, if he was just like everybody else, all this wouldn’t have happened.
“These fucking…idiots…had the audacity to get a search warrant and go through all of our things!” Mom was on the verge of crying. He felt torn between staying upstairs and listening or going downstairs to try to help Dad calm her down. “They went through our things — through Tim’s room and tore it apart! — and they took his books!”
That was the main thing that had kept Tim from falling to sleep. His bedroom felt tainted after the search. He felt like he’d been violated.
Officer Clapton had supervised the search, which hadn’t taken long. Tim had a chance to read some of the fine print in the search order that Officer Clapton gave to his parents, and the words “books, videos, and any
items related to the occult” leaped out at him. Yes, he had several books that had occult themes, but so what? Apparently it was a big deal to whoever was driving this witch hunt because they spent a significant portion of their time in Tim’s bedroom going through his bookshelves, searching his closet, his desk drawers, looking under his bed. They carried out two boxes of belongings, mostly books — horror novels, primarily. Mom had bitched about it the entire time until Officer Clapton had to ask her to please stop denigrating his officers. They were only doing their job.
“And they said they were only doing their job!” Mom muttered downstairs, still on a roll.
“Let’s see what we can come up with when we talk to Doug tomorrow,” Dad said. Doug Fenner was the lawyer George’s father had hired.
“What I’d like to do is sue this goddamn town,” Naomi said. The conversation had moved to the living room now; Tim’s position at the top of the stairs kept him in the shadows, well away from their vantage point. “Somebody’s personal reading material doesn’t automatically make them a criminal, and these inbred religious fanatics need to learn that!”
Tim grinned. His mom was good and pissed off. Dad was angry too, he just showed it in different ways. After years of doing everything they could to keep their heads down in this town and avoid getting stoned by the marching morons who were giving their lives hell, Tim’s parents were finally starting to fight back.
“When I talked to Mr. Ulrich earlier this evening he said the police took books and a bunch of comic books from George’s room,” Dad said. “Mrs. Romero said the same thing. Any DA in his right mind is going to take one look at this and throw it out.”
“We can only hope,” Naomi said.
“That’s what’ll happen, and we’ll petition the court for Tim’s belongings to be returned. If they aren’t returned, we’ll not only sue the city for character defamation and harassment based on religious grounds, we’ll sue them for theft as well. The fact that we’ll have to enroll him in private school come fall can be another issue we can levy against them.”
Tim had been thinking of the religious thing for the past hour or so now. His father had explained to them when they got home that one of the things Mr. Ulrich was going to inquire about when he talked to Doug tomorrow was if they could sue the city on religious discrimination. Because there was no physical evidence tying Tim and the boys to the grave desecration in Reamstown, attempting to smear the boys and tie them to the crime anyway based on their love for comic books and horror novels was not only ludicrous at best, it was a witch hunt pure and simple. Because Tim had been labeled as a “witch,” and a “warlock” and a “devil-worshipper” by his peers ever since sixth grade, and because he professed no belief in the occult, much less being a member of any organized pagan group, it was clear that the harassment was clearly religious in nature. The kids who were doing the harassing all belonged to area Christian churches; Tim and his family did not attend religious services. And despite the fact that two books on paganism and witchcraft were among the books confiscated in the search warrant, the authorities failed to confiscate two Bibles that sat on Tim’s shelf. Not to mention a copy of the Qu’ran, and a book called Comparitive World Religions.
“I just hope we can fight this and win it,” Mom said. For the first time that night, Tim detected the weariness in her tone of voice. “I’m just getting so tired of it!”
“I know, honey,” Dad said. “I am too.”
“They never did search Gordon Smith’s house or the homes of those other boys.”
“No, they didn’t.”
“And they won’t even question them further! That’s what’s got me so goddamn mad about this whole thing! Something tells me the kid that started this whole mess back when Tim was in sixth grade, Scott Bradfield, is behind it all.”
Tim thought about Scott and how he, Steve, and David had done such a good job in not only avoiding him for the past five years or so, but insidiously pulled the strings of his continued harassment. It was very possible Scott was involved, but how to prove it? And really, how could it be proven that Gordon robbed that grave?
Furthermore, why would Gordon desecrate a grave and steal human remains? Tim found it hard to believe it was done for the sole purpose of smearing Tim’s name even further.
But then, he wouldn’t put it past that crew. They could have seen his happiness the past few months. Could have noticed that he now had new company in the form of Al and George, as well as Matt and Chelsea, and decided to take him down a few notches. And in doing so they’d sent a message to George and Al as well. And that message was simple: we control this school. So don’t mess with us.
“I’m guessing if there was no evidence to tie Gordon to what happened it will be even tougher to tie Scott to it as well,” Dad said. There was an audible sound of the chair cushions squeaking as Dad sat down. “You know those three have been as slick as snot on a glass door handle since they first got in trouble for assaulting Tim.”
Mom sighed. There was a creak of leather as Mom sat on the sofa, followed by the click of the television turning on. “And there’s no evidence tying Tim and his friends to this as well. It’s their word against ours and no physical evidence. I think you’re right, honey. A good DA is going to take one look at this and throw it out.”
“Hopefully we can still sue them,” Dad said. “The fact that we’re now forced to place Tim in private school due to what’s happened will be the main thing. When they throw this thing out, we’ve got ourselves a good case for a harassment lawsuit.”
“Okay. So we keep Tim out of school the rest of the year and make sure he takes his finals, does the remainder of his schoolwork and turns it in, and we follow up with his instructors to make sure they’ve received it. The last thing I want is for Tim to fail a class because one of his teachers won’t accept his work due to him being suspended.”
“I agree. We’ll talk to Dr. Stokely about it tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll be agreeable since Tim’s maintained excellent grades, and he’s suspended for the rest of the year.”
The cooking channel was on and Tim finally got up and headed back to his room. He closed the door softly behind him and sat on the bed.
He’d done his best to put things back in order after the police left, but there were still piles of books on the floor. The police had taken everything horror-related but they’d left behind all his fantasy and SF. To further demonstrate their illiteracy, they’d left behind a really cool novel called Harvest Home by Thomas Tryon, which wove themes of neo-paganism flourishing unseen in modern day villages.
And true enough, they’d left behind the two Bibles Tim owned. That and numerous other books, including a true crime encyclopedia that contained cult-related crime entries.
Idiots, Tim thought as he lay down on the bed.
He turned off the lights and wondered how Al and George were doing tonight. He was sorry they’d gotten dragged into this sad, sorry mess, but was happy and pleased that they and their families were standing with him to fight it.
And because he couldn’t help it, he found himself wondering what Gordon Smith and his friends were up to tonight.
Chapter Thirteen
Gordon was with Scott, Steve, and David when they went into Harrisburg that night and got themselves another homeless man.
Scott’s parents were out of town this week — both of them were attending business conferences for their jobs — and the house was theirs. Nonetheless, when they brought the unconscious homeless man back, they took him directly to the guest house.
Scott had the SUV pulled back into the rear of the driveway and was talking to Gordon about Count Gaines’s recent trouble with the law as Steve and David carried the homeless man out of the SUV. Gordon had filled the guys in on what happened over the course of the evening during their run into Harrisburg. It had taken that long to relate everything in between the drive, scouring for the right homeless guy, subduing him quickly, and getting him into the SUV. David had knocked
the dirty fuck out with one punch to the side of his head and the guy — who actually didn’t appear that much older than them — fell to the ground. Once again, there were no witnesses.
Gordon was bringing Scott up on where things stood now with Count Gaines. “The cops questioned me and my parents, but they hauled Gaines out of class and suspended him, George, and Al. They’re totally focusing on those three for what Dave and I did.”
“That was still a stupid thing you guys did,” Scott said. “Letting that book fall out of your car.”
“Yeah, but that’s how they tied the grave robbing to Gaines!”
Scott shook his head. “It’s a trip to think they’re harassing the shit out of him just because of that. I mean…Gaines told them he loaned the book to you and you told them you returned it and they swallowed your story? That’s the funniest shit I’ve heard all year.”
“Yeah, and now Simmons has a hard on for all three of them,” Gordon said. He grinned. “George Ulrich and Al Romero have been cozying up to Tim for the past few months and he’s noticed. It’s only a matter of time before he sets his sights on Matt and that crazy chick they hang out with. You know…Chelsea?”
“Those freaks should be thrown out of school,” Scott said. “Especially Chelsea. Know what Heather Watkins told me?”
“What?”
“She said Chelsea is one of those weirdos that cuts themselves.”
“Huh?”
“They cut themselves with knives.” Scott made a sawing motion with his fingers on the underside of his left arm. “They cut themselves for attention or some shit.”
“That’s fucked up, man.”
“No shit. And she’s just as deranged as Tim Gaines, if you ask me. Heather told me she’s bad news. She not only cuts herself, she listens to that goth shit. She also listens to those weird metal bands, the ones with names you can’t pronounce. She’s probably into the same kind of demonic shit as Tim.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
Scott got out of the driver’s seat and he and Gordon began making their way to the guest house. Steve and David had already gotten the unconscious bum inside.
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