The Tower

by Lynn Moon

  “See what I mean?” I stared at him. He was my father. It was his job to fix this. “They can do anything they want to me, anything.”

  “Was your fall today really an accident?” Uncle Ted asked.

  Knowing I couldn’t lie to him, I shook my head. “Joe said they used a wire. Said he saw it all.”

  “Then why did you lie to everyone?” my father asked.

  “Dad.” My heart pounded as anger raged through me. What else was I supposed to do? I had to protect myself. “If I tell on them it’s only going to get worse. If they can do this, then they can do anything.”

  My father wiped his forehead and sighed. “Go to sleep, Pete. I’ll take care of this in the morning.” After kissing the top of my head, and tucking me in, he left my room. As the door closed, I heard his words. “Dr. Wiltshire, it’s starting up again.”

  CHAPTER 19

  WORDS DO HURT

  I STAYED HOME FOR the next two weeks. My father wished for things to calm down before I returned to school. He definitely didn’t want me there with crutches. It was when I returned that things seemed to get even worse. That morning, I met Joe in the parking lot. We entered the school together. Immediately, loud, malicious laughter rang through the halls.

  “Now what?” Joe said, glancing at all the happy faces.

  Students here just didn’t smile. Obviously, they knew something we didn’t. A few of the newer students looked just as confused as we did.

  “Dr. Wiltshire,” Joe asked, as we entered the office. “Any idea what’s going on?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. You two, follow me.”

  “You like them young, huh, Mr. Joe?” A mysterious voice yelled out from somewhere in the hallway.

  A girl’s voice echoed off the walls next. “You’ve been riding her real good. Yah-hoo. Ride ‘em cowboy.”

  “Enough!” Dr. Wiltshire screamed out from her office door. “Get to your classes, now.” She never screamed like that before. As the students scrambled away, several security officers ran down the halls after them.

  “What’s going on?” Joe asked, again.

  “Here,” Lera said, pointing to her computer screen.

  My world shattered around me as my mind tried to understand. Who did this? It couldn’t have been someone at DA, could it? The room felt tipsy. The more I stared at the screen, the more the room moved under my feet. Grabbing hold of the desk, I closed my eyes.

  Someone had spliced our faces onto a photo. A nasty photo of two naked people lying in a bed. Posted on my school’s website was a hideous picture for everyone to see. A picture of a girl that looked just like me, only naked. And, lying next to me, I meant her, was a naked-looking Joe.

  “We have people working on this right now,” Dr. Wiltshire said. “But we still have to take this seriously. Joe, I’m sorry. I have no other choice. You’re now on administrative leave.” When he glared at her, she added, “Just until Social Services has a chance to investigate.”

  “Social Services? Investigate? What is there to investigate?” Joe looked angry, his face now a bright red.

  “This is not me,” I shouted. Gasping for air, I felt sick to my stomach.

  “We know this isn’t you, or you, Joe. Someone called Social Services this morning and reported it. It’s out of our hands.” Dr. Wiltshire kept glancing between Joe and me. “Your father is on his way here to pick you up. Until this is resolved, we believe it best if you stayed home, Pete.”

  “I didn’t do anything. You’re punishing me for this?” My mind tried to sort through all the confusion. “It isn’t fair.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Dr. Wiltshire replied. “It’s not up to me anymore. We have a temporary order from a judge. You are to be home-schooled. Joe, I’m sorry. You must stay away from Pete. You cannot instruct her anymore.”

  “What?” he said. “Oh, this has gone way too far.”

  Joe stormed out of the office as my father came crashing in.

  “Let’s go, Pete,” he ordered. “NOW! And I told you,” he pointed to the administrator, “to take care of this, Gladys. I’ll see you in court.”

  My father grabbed my arm, escorting me from the building. When he shut the Blazer’s door, he grabbed the steering wheel and screamed. I wondered if the car would hold together.

  “Dad?”

  “I can’t explain to you how much I loved your mother.” His eyes filled with tears. “Your grandparents stole her away from me a long time ago. It’s happening all over again.”

  “What’s happening all over again?”

  “You. You’re being ripped right out of my arms.”

  “Daddy.” My heart broke for him. Maybe he loved me after all. “No one is taking me from you. I won’t let them.”

  Reaching out, I wrapped my arms around his neck. He cried and I cried with him. After a little while, we drove home in silence. My grandmother stood on the front steps clasping her hands. She opened my car door and kissed my cheek.

  “Are you two all right?” she asked.

  “We will be,” he said, slamming the door on his side.

  My dad walked away, leaving me alone with my grandmother. Entering the house felt odd. I was supposed to be at school, not walking into the kitchen. As she made tea, I sat at the table.

  “I don’t want Joe to go away,” I whispered. “I’ll tell everybody that nothing happened between us.”

  “We all know that the pictures were faked. Your father has assigned people to work on it right now. He plans on filing a suit against your school. The police are investigating, too. We’ll get to the bottom of things. For now, however, you must be safe, and you’re safer here, in this house, than you are at that school.”

  “I feel like a prisoner.”

  “You are not prisoner. Go ride Saddlebag. Later, we’ll go to the mall or something. It’ll be okay, Pete. A tutor will be here in the morning. She’ll make sure you stay current with your studies.”

  “Thanks, Grandmother,” I said. As I placed my flowered teacup into the sink, I remembered the sound it had made when my father dropped it on the night we met. Strange how time could camouflage the seconds as hours, and the days as weeks. Mom died in February, but it felt more like a lifetime ago, not just a few months. “I think I’ll ride my horse now.”

  “Good idea, dear.”

  I needed my towers. With her week detention now served, I knew Christina would be at school. I should be safe. After tying Saddlebag’s reins to the metal rung, my nerves seemed a little calmer. Climbing the long ladder burned my muscles, and my knees ached with each step. Eventually, I made it to the top. Scanning along the horizon, my anger slowly faded away with the light wind. With the sun hitting my face, things seemed a little better. My knees ached something terrible. Maybe, I could walk off the pain. With only the birds for company, I limped along the metal grading.

  Reaching the side facing Christina’s property, my heart sank. Carved into the side of the tower was a huge heart. The names Joe and Pete, engraved in the middle, made my insides all jumpy. Off to the side of the massive heart, someone printed a lot of profanity. One of the statements sent chills all through me. It said, For a good time call Pete, and below it, printed in larger numbers, was my personal cell phone number. How in the world did they get my personal cell phone number?

  Galloping to the stables, Saddlebag wheezed for air when we arrived. Ignoring the pain in my knees, I searched the tackle shop; nothing. In the stable, I found nothing that would work. After limping all the way to the garage, I searched every drawer and cabinet. Whatever I didn’t need, I threw across the room. Before a large hammer flew from my hand, Uncle Ted grabbed it.

  “Whoa, child, what’s wrong? We don’t throw hammers unless something bad has happened. What’s up?”

  “I need paint and a scrubber.” Waves of anger roared through me.

  Wrapping his arms around me, Uncle Ted said, “Okay, calm down and talk.”

  Tears fell as I told him about my towers. Most of my words came
out garbled. I couldn’t calm down. Eventually, Uncle Ted pieced together what happened. Together, we drove to a hardware store. We bought sandpaper and three different colors of paint. We figured one would be a close match.

  Not stopping for the horses, Uncle Ted drove his truck straight to the towers. Several times, I dodged as tree branches slapped through the open window. It was as if the forest was fighting to keep us away.

  Together we climbed to the top. I shook as I pointed to the scratched drawings and nasty words.

  “Darn kids,” he said. “Okay, let’s get to work.”

  Together, we sanded the side of the tower. My fingers bled from holding the rough paper so tight. As he sprayed over the now smooth surface, I almost smiled. We were not far off with the color. Although it wasn’t an exact match, the words and heart soon faded away.

  “Almost perfect,” he said, admiring his work.

  “Thanks, Uncle Ted.” Wiping my face with the back of my hand, I stared at my bandaged tower. Someone attacking my tower felt like a personal assault on me.

  “You are quite welcome. Any ideas on who did this?”

  Shaking my head, I frowned. “Not really. Don’t have any proof anyway.”

  How could I tell anyone of my suspicions? Too afraid not to tell, I was even more terrorized to tell. Obviously, it was Christina who vandalized my tower, but if I told on her, the attacks would only get worse.

  “Hmm, I could have a fence installed around this place.”

  “Then I can’t get up here either.” His words sent shivers down my back. I couldn’t abandon my towers.

  “You really shouldn’t be up here. It’s dangerous.” Uncle Ted gazed at me through slanted eyes. “What if you fell?”

  “I’m not going to fall. Besides, there is a railing. Please, Uncle Ted, I love it up here. Don’t take my towers away. This is the only place where I can think.”

  “Does your father or grandmother know you come up here?”

  I shook my head. He was going to take my towers away from me for sure.

  “Perhaps it would be best if they didn’t know.” Uncle Ted winked at me.

  I nodded, as my heart exploded with love for him—my crazy next-door neighbor.

  CHAPTER 20

  SOCIAL SERVICES

  MY TUTOR TURNED OUT to be really cool. I liked her the moment I met her. I never asked her how old she was, but I guessed that she was probably in her early twenties. Her height amazed me. She had to be over six feet tall. One day I had her stand next to Charles. They were almost head-to-head. I really wanted to get her on some scales. If she weighed over a hundred pounds, I’d be surprised. The woman was skinnier than a fence post. And I couldn’t figure out her hair color ‘cuz of her buzz cut. When I asked her about it, she said she didn’t like fussing over herself. Naturally beautiful on the inside and out, Kate did not wear makeup. Honestly, there was no need. Not with her dark brown eyes that dominated her face. I loved just looking at her.

  She arrived every morning at eight sharp and left before lunch. Her odd humor made learning fun. When we discussed the subject of world wars, she said that if someone would just add tranquilizers to the water supply then maybe the world rulers would have gotten along better. Together, we reviewed my studies and homework. I still posted to the school website, I just wasn’t allowed to attend classes in person. It seemed weird and unfair at first. Now, learning was almost enjoyable; as if I was cheating or something.

  One day after Kate had just left, my cell phone beeped several times. It meant I had a text message. It was from Kendra. Excitement soared through me as I thought of my friends in New York. Until I read her words. Then, shock, anger, and fear dug deep into my soul.

  We are not allowed to text you anymore, her text read.

  Why?

  ‘Cuz of your social media page.

  What in the world was she talking about? I clicked on my computer, and as my social webpage filled the screen, my whole world dissolved around me. That nasty fake photo that I had seen at school now glared at me from my personal page. With it, a message that supposedly was from Joe.

  I love you baby, let’s do it again soon,

  —Joe.

  That couldn’t be from him. Nothing ever happened between us. Joe was only my riding instructor. He taught me about horses, nothing more.

  “Uncle Ted,” I yelled out as loud as I could. I didn’t care who heard me this time. I just needed to scream.

  “What is it, sweetheart?” he asked, entering my room with his eyes opened wide with worry.

  “Look!”

  “Again?” Uncle Ted said, taking a seat in front of my computer. He pulled up my social media settings and deleted my account. Without moving his head, his eyes scanned the room. “I wonder …” he whispered.

  “What is it?” I asked, not really wanting to know.

  “I’m just thinking,” he said, glancing up at me. “Let me search your name and see what comes up.”

  After typing in my full name, the page filled up. My name came up over a hundred times on that social website with the same nasty picture and the same fake message. Someone created over a hundred accounts using my name and my information.

  Some pages were worse than others. Nasty words I never knew existed splattered across the screen burning a hole straight through my chest. Staring at the obscene photos made me want to disappear and never come back. My uncle grabbed the desk phone, hitting the buttons so hard that I thought the phone would break. He waited a long time before someone finally answered. I paced back and forth, as different things ran through my mind. Nothing was making any sense.

  “This is Theodore Crocker. I’m calling on behalf of my minor niece. Someone created fake pages on your server using her name (he paused), ah huh (he paused), I see (he paused), well that won’t be too difficult. Her father is a lawyer (he paused). I’ll need a name and address (he paused), you do understand she’s a minor and this is causing great harm (he paused), I understand, yes, yes, thank you.” He hung up, his face now a deeper red.

  “What did they say?”

  “They said they’d look into it, but they can’t do much without a court order. Seems you don’t actually own the accounts, therefore, you cannot deactivate them. Unfortunately, their policy forbids them from giving out owner information over the phone. I’ll have your father ask for it in writing through his firm. We’ll get to the bottom of this, Pete. I know you’re upset, I’m upset, but try to calm down.”

  My uncle left me alone in my room. How could this be happening to me? Someone actually used my name, my face, and my information, and the site can’t do anything about it? I grabbed my phone and texted Kendra and Wendy.

  Me: The sites are fake!!!!!

  Wendy: We know.

  Kendra: My parents are still mad.

  Me: I’m sorry.

  Kendra: We are too.

  Wendy: We still love you.

  Kendra: Wait for college.

  College? College was a whole other life that didn’t exist for me yet. A place I could only dream of, not a place where I could go. I lost my mom, my riding instructor, and now my two best friends. The only people I truly cared about had left me. As I screamed into my pillow, a knock echoed through my room. Wiping my eyes and sitting up, I was surprised to see my grandmother. Something else was wrong.

  “I need you to come downstairs,” she said, not looking directly at me. “We have a visitor from Social Services.”

  Walking into my dad’s study, I was ready for a fight. However, when I locked eyes with a short, bald man all my confidence flew out the window. This was my chance to set things right, and I couldn’t think of a thing to say. Wearing a purple suit, the odd little man wasn’t much taller than I was. It was disgusting how his baldhead reflected the light from my father’s lamp. A black bushy mustache covered his upper lip, and quivered with each breath. He kept licking it, and his eyes almost looked as if they were vibrating. How could a person vibrate their eyeballs? This man standing in
my dad’s study gave me the chills. I didn’t like him at all.

  “Ah, yes. You must be Miss Petunia. Please sit down.” He motioned for me to sit on the sofa. “I’m with Social Services. The name’s Larry Briar. You may call me, Mr. Briar.”

  I refused to sit. Rubbing my arms, I couldn’t shake the cold that attacked me from all sides. This man was just, plain, nasty.

  “What do you want?” I asked, wanting him out of my house. Tears ran down my face. The whole situation was getting worse, not better. My courage had disappeared, and the words I wanted to say were just not there anymore.

  “I have a few questions for you.” His voice sounded strained. Almost as if he had a mouth full of water or something. Did he need to clear his throat? “How long have you and Joseph Kenneyworth had sexual relations? Did it start right after you arrived from New York? Or did he approach you later? Hmmm?”

  I couldn’t think, let alone talk. How could he ask me such a thing? Sexual relations? How stupid could this man be? I’m only eleven.

  “Please answer my questions, Miss Crocker.” His foul smile added a sick twinkle to his vibrating eyes. I cringed as his right eyebrow moved up and down. It felt like he was examining and caressing every inch of me by just using his eyes. Yuck. This man was actually enjoying his little game. Did he receive some loutish pleasure from interrogating me about sexual relations that didn’t exist? “I have a court order. If you refuse to talk to me, I can arrange for you to talk in front of a judge. Now, Miss Crocker, please answer my questions.”

  A judge? In a courtroom? All those strangers? Am I going to jail for something I didn’t do? The only words that flew into my head blurted out before I could stop myself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Joe’s just my riding instructor.”

  A fiendish laugh escaped through his clenched lips. My skin itched as if tiny bugs were crawling around inside me. Dang if this man wasn’t gross.

  “I see.” He chuckled. “Riding, huh? Is that what he called it?”