The following week on Monday, there was quite a bit of commotion when the police showed up at the school. Rumors were flying, and despite the fact that I wasn’t interacting with anyone outside of Margie, it was hard not to overhear what everyone was gossiping about.
Apparently, on the weekend, sometime in the night, vandals had targeted Mr. Coffey’s private residence. According to the grape vine, they had spray painted ‘woman-hater’ and ‘racist pig’ on his garage door. They toilet papered the trees in his front yard, slashed the tires on his car, and had scratched ‘where is justice?’ into the paint on the hood as well as generally scratching up the paint all over the body of the car. And then just for good measure they had poured sugar in the gas tank. And strangely, they also spray painted ‘faggot’ on his front door, which I found rather incongruous considering ‘woman-hater’ and ‘racist pig.’
I wanted to rush back to my room at the end of the day to see Margie as soon as possible to find out if this was the ‘karma’ she had spoken of. I thought of texting her right away, but then thought better of it in case it created a record of our conversation. But to my chagrin, I had detention hall to attend first.
My half an hour detention that day seemed to go on forever. It was like time was standing still and the more I wanted that big hand on the clock to move the more it seemed to go backwards. Finally! It was over, and I raced back to the dorm to find Margie lying on her bed, cool as a cucumber, thumbing through the pages of a book.
“Margie!” I gasped breathlessly, “Was it you?!”
“Was what me, honey pie?” she smiled innocently at me.
“Everybody’s talking about Coffey’s car and house being vandalized! Was it you?”
“Now how could it have been me when you know I spend every weekend in town with my boyfriend, and I even make sure to go places with security cameras – like banks and gas stations – to prove it in court if I have to!” she continued smiling confidently at me. “Coffey lives on some winding country road somewhere, doesn’t he? I mean, not that I would know, but I think pretty much everyone else knows!”
“Okay,” I said, a grin spreading across my face as I began to catch on to her game. “So explain this to me. Everyone is saying that they spray painted ‘woman hater’ and ‘racist pig’ and ‘faggot’. That doesn’t even make sense!”
“Hmm. Why would someone spray paint those things?” Margie wrinkled her brow in mock concentration. “Well maybe, it’s because the person who spray painted ‘faggot’ really is a ‘faggot’, and maybe, long ago, before you even started going to this school, Coffey should have helped him out one time when he was being bullied but he didn’t. Maybe the ‘faggot’ realized that Coffey was a giant homophobe and maybe he decided to paint ‘faggot’ on his door because he knew that that would be the worst possible insult in Coffey’s sick little mind. And maybe, something similar happened to a student who wasn’t a lily-white descendant of some pilgrim off the Mayflower. So maybe Coffey had a reputation for racial bias and other stuff long before you ever got here. Do you notice a great deal of diversity on this campus? I don’t. I mean, maybe there are other people in the world with axes to grind against Coffey. Maybe he’s been due a comeuppance for a long, long time. But I really wouldn’t know. I’m just guessing,” she winked at me.
I didn’t know what to say. Obviously Margie was behind this somehow and had gotten involved on my behalf.
“Well I’d say thank you, but that seems rather inadequate. But thank you. I’m humbled. Truly,” I said.
“Ah, shit, girl, you were already humble! That’s half your problem! But no need to thank me – I had nothing to do with it!” she winked again.
And then she snickered, “I hear his car is pretty much toast! Hope he had good insurance!”
Things got even more interesting the next week when Trevor showed up to school with a bruised and swollen face. He was telling everyone that he had walked into a door while sleepwalking, but the rumor was that that weekend he had come stumbling drunk out of the bar in town and was set upon by a group of unknown assailants. They blackened both of his eyes, bloodied his nose, and took all the cash out of his wallet.
“Aw! Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy!” Margie beamed at me when I asked her about it.
I felt so conflicted. Some less-evolved part of my psyche was delighted that at least some form of vengeance had been meted out. On the other hand, it didn’t help my cause any, and I felt really uncomfortable with physical violence against people. I voiced my concerns to Margie.
“Oh, come ON!” she scolded me. “You’re being punished for hitting the guy – so at least let him be hit! And forget about what happened to you because of him – he’s a smug little dickface who deserved to have some humility beat into him!”
I replayed in my mind what he had said to me the night he had followed me in the dark. The look in his eye and the tone in his voice had chilled me to the bone and I had never stepped outside after dark since. Maybe Margie was right, maybe somebody did need to show him that he wasn’t invincible.
“Well, thank you. Not that you had anything to do with any of it, but thank you nonetheless,” I said to her.
“Honey, so many other people have axes to grind against these assholes…they hardly need any excuse at all! And the best thing is – that little scum bucket won’t even ask the police to investigate or to press charges because then he’ll get himself busted for drinking underage and having a fake ID!”
“Who was he there with?” I asked, suddenly concerned about Chad. “I mean, how did he end up outside by himself? That doesn’t make sense.”
“I dunno,” Margie shrugged, “Maybe some pretty girl lured him outside!”
It was strange. Somehow I was heartened by the idea that complete strangers were willing to break laws in some misguided attempt at vindicating me. I let down my guard a little bit and felt more relaxed than I had in a long time.
And then something even stranger happened. In English class, Cheryl approached me and asked if we could “talk.”
“Unless it’s about you going to the principal and telling him the truth, then no. I have nothing to say to you,” I blanked her.
“Please, Catherine. I want to apologize to you and explain,” she started to say, but then Ms. Tyrol came in and started the class.
I puzzled over it for the entire hour. Why did she want to apologize to me all of a sudden? I supposed Chad had spoken to her after all, even though he promised me he wouldn’t. I was still surprised, though. I didn’t think anything or anybody could make Cheryl choke back her ego long enough to apologize or admit wrongdoing.
Class finished and the bell rang announcing the start of lunch.
“Please, Catherine,” she said again. “Come and have lunch with me. We’ll sit somewhere off by ourselves. I really would like to clear things up with you. I mean, we live fifty feet away from each other. It’s stupid.”
She did sound sincere. Had Chad really been able to do some sort of magic on her?
“Alright. The dining hall?” I suggested. I figured that it was a busy place at lunch and she could hardly do anything too dastardly to me in front of half the student body and a few of the faculty.
“Yay! Thank you, let’s walk over there now!” And she linked her arm through mine as we made our way down the hall.
“Did you hear what happened to Trevor?” she whispered to me as we walked. “He got mugged! And had the shit kicked out of him!” she told me with wide eyes.
“Can’t say I’m sorry,” I replied tersely.
“Oh right. I forgot you guys weren’t exactly friends,” she chuckled.
What? How could she forget that? Did she also forget that she had come down to the principal’s office to lie for him against me? What on earth went through this girl’s head? But I bit my lip and said none of this. I thought it might be something akin to banging my head up against a brick wall.
We arrived at the dining hall, made our lunch selectio
ns, and then carried them on trays to a table against a wall where it was unlikely anyone would bother us.
“Thank you for talking to me,” Cheryl started off in her baby voice and I knew instantly she was being disingenuous. Her eyes flicked to my plate of ravioli and a bread roll and although an impulse to say something flickered across her face, she managed to restrain herself.
“I know I’ve done a lot of really horrible things in the past few weeks, and I just wanted to apologize and explain myself,” she said as she tilted her head to the side and gave me a little shy smile.
I just sat there and stared at her impassively.
“Well, you know how I feel about Chad. And I live in fear of him having another girlfriend. Because I would have to see it all the time, it would be in front of my face all the time because we all live here and go to school here. It’s not like I would be able to avoid it and I think it would drive me mad if I had to see him with someone else.”
I think you were already mad to begin with, I thought.
“And then you came along, and you’re so pretty. You really are, you know? It’s too bad you’re so short because you could totally be a model otherwise,” she cooed at me and I felt my hackles rise. Did she think I wouldn’t be able to tell she was buttering me up?
“And then, Chad took this interest in you. You were working on the paper together, and then you were studying together all the time, and it drove me a little bit crazy,” she smiled sheepishly. Then she added pointedly, “Even though I knew there was nothing going on.
“So when it all blew up at the dance that night, I kinda lost it, you know? Chad had just told me he didn’t think he ever wanted to be my boyfriend again, and then knowing you had been outside with him added to all the rest of it…” she trailed off. “Can you at least kind of see where I’m coming from?” she tipped her head coquettishly to the side again.
I was dumbfounded. Did she not realize the impact of the things she had done to me? I finished chewing my mouthful of food, and with a great deal of effort managed to swallow it before I said, “Cheryl, you could have gotten me suspended or expelled on at least two separate occasions. You not only destroyed my friendship with Andrea, but something bad could have happened to her horse! Can’t you see how extreme this is?”
“You’re right,” she said simply. “And that’s why I want to apologize and call a truce.”
“A truce?!” I repeated. The word truce implied that I had been doing horrible things to her as well! “I’ll take a truce from you,” I said with sarcasm that eluded Cheryl, “but I don’t think I could ever trust you enough to be friends again.”
Just then, Chad was crossing through the dining hall looking for a place to sit. Our eyes met briefly and he shot me a quizzical look. Cheryl didn’t see him, but he crossed behind us and sat down with his lunch about 20 feet behind her.
Cheryl sighed.
“Okay, well, that’s a start,” she said cheerily. “In the meantime, you can trust me not to do anything more to you. Okay?” she pressed.
I shrugged and said, “Fine,” non-commitally. I wouldn’t trust her as far as I could throw her.
“Yay!” she squealed and clapped her hands. “We’ll be friends again. Mark my words!” She flashed her whiter-than-white smile at me.
It took all my concentration to keep my eyes from rolling back into my head. Was she serious?
“Alright, I have to go now,” I said as I picked up my tray and made to leave.
“Oh no! Don’t go and leave me sitting here by myself!” she looked panicked, as if sitting alone was one of the worst things that she could imagine happening to her.
“Sorry. I really have to go,” I insisted, and as I walked away I noticed Chad scrambling to get his things together so that he could leave as well.
I was striding across the lawns of the campus when he caught up to me.
“Catherine!” he huffed out of breath. “Catherine! I’m sorry – I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I saw you and Cheryl eating together…”
“I know. She wants us to be friends again,” I told him. “That’s your doing, I suppose?”
“No – it isn’t. I promised you I wouldn’t talk to her and I didn’t. What exactly did she say?” he asked, looking puzzled.
“Honestly, Chad, I don’t trust her. I think she’s mentally unstable and I think it’s a trap to lull me into a false sense of security. But as long as she wants to pretend to keep the peace, I’ll play along,” I informed him.
“Good,” he concurred. “I think you’re right to think that way. Her and Trevor have been hanging out a lot lately. I think they might be seeing each other.”
“Really?” I was shocked by that. Although nothing about what Cheryl did should have shocked me anymore.
“Yeah. They were out together that night he got mugged,” Chad informed me.
“Really?” I said again.
I let this sink in for a second.
“So what do you think her game is?” I asked him.
“I don’t know. He won’t even admit to me that they’re seeing each other. But he suddenly starting getting text messages non-stop, which is something Cheryl likes to do – bombard the guy she likes with text messages - and he grins like an idiot while he texts away. I’ve caught them together a couple of times - I say “caught” because they act exactly like they’ve been caught for a second before they switch gears and make a big show of trying to be casual, which, you know, making a big show of being casual is kind of a contradiction in terms.” Chad paused for a second and cleared his throat. “I heard what they did to you. I mean, about the story they concocted that got you a month of detention,” he said awkwardly.
“You did? How?” I asked.
“Trevor told me. He was bragging about it. We had a huge argument over it. I think we’re kind of only pretending to be friends now because we’re stuck sharing a room.” Chad looked off into the distance.
“Oh, Chad, I’m so sorry! And I’ve been so indifferent to you for the past little while!” I felt horrible and immediately all the walls I had built up against him came crashing down.
“No, I understand. Survival. I don’t take it personally – I see that you have to do what you have to do,” he said generously.
I was at a loss for words. But I looked at him and I think that he saw all of the regret and the gratitude that were swimming around in my eyes mixed up together.
“I just wish you hadn’t quit your column,” he half-smiled at me. “We got so much positive response for the horse one. The Equestrian Club said that interest had greatly increased.”
“Really?” I had completely forgotten about my column with everything else that I had been contending with.
“And, just to let you know…the reason you got detention and Trevor didn’t was purely political. You did nothing wrong, I hope you know that.”
I nodded. “That’s why it burns so much. If I think about it too much I feel like I’m suffocating.”
“Maybe,” Chad said slowly and thoughtfully, “maybe you could write a column about the injustice of it?”
I stood there for a second, struck by this idea.
“Think about it,” he said. “It’s just an idea,”
Then he turned from me and began to walk off in another direction. I watched him go for a few moments as I turned over in my mind what he had just said to me.
“I will!” I called out. “Think about it!”
He turned back and gave me a thumbs up.
Instantaneously, I went from feeling numb and hardened to feeling fuelled with hope. Yes, I would write a column about what had happened. I’d have to be tricky and not mention anybody by name…I didn’t doubt for a moment though, that no matter what I wrote, Chad would publish it.
I was mentally composing it for the next two periods and couldn’t wait to get out of class so that I could rush to the computer lab and actually type it out. But then I remembered that as soon as school was done for the day, I
still had detention to go to.
Oh well, I thought. Forget typing. I’ll do it the old fashioned way – with pen and paper!
And so I used that half hour of my day, which had been allotted by Mr. Coffey as my punishment time, to write a treatise against him. As soon as I had the opportunity to type it up and put some polish on it, I would submit it to Chad and let the chips fall where they may.
The next time I had English class, we were assigned a mid-term essay on Jane Eyre. It had to be a minimum of five pages long, typed, double spaced. My only difficulty would be in narrowing the scope of my paper to five pages!
After class, Cheryl approached me.
“So. We have to do this essay now,” she said as she sidled up to me like nothing had happened.
“Yep. Five pages. Typed,” I answered.
“I did see the movie,” she told me. “I didn’t get it. I didn’t get why the rich old guy didn’t go for the beautiful heiress instead of the frumpy governess!” She rolled her eyes and laughed as if her joke was actually funny.
“I’ve never seen a movie version that did justice to the book,” I shrugged.
“Well I was wondering if maybe you could help me with the essay. Not write it for me – of course I wouldn’t ask you to do that. But maybe just help me a little. Five pages is a lot!” She was using her little soft baby voice on me and flashing me the doe eyes.
“Sure, I could proofread it after you’re done,” I offered, knowing full well that this was not what she had had in mind.
“Hmmm.” She put her thumb in her mouth and sucked on it thoughtfully for a second. “Maybe you could help me come up with a topic?” she suggested.
“I doubt it!” I chortled. “I haven’t even come up with one for myself yet!”
“Okay,” she cocked her head at me. “Whenever you’re ready then.”
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