Her eyes pinned me like a juror in the juror’s box. “I’m a judge, remember? By the time I got through interrogating Ethan, he revealed all. I know that his misguided veneration of Charles Lacoste led to his disdain for you. And how, despite that, you provided a safe space for him to grow and apply that growth in helping to deflate the encounter with Wyatt. The situation was a dangerous one, Ms. Veil, and I commend you for the way you handled it.”
Before I could tell her that forces beyond my control had come to our aid she said, “Ethan claims that Wyatt suffers from severe depression and needs people to watch over and out for him. A sure sign that we need more after-school options such as this.”
Numb and dumb, I waited for further revelations and was not disappointed.
“Charles Lacoste has learned a valuable lesson about what happens when you interfere in situations you don’t understand. It took near disaster for him to realize that we must manage our own stress and anger before offering advice to someone facing a similar situation. Wyatt caught on to Lacoste’s disapproval of you with consequences that will extend far into the future.”
We must manage our stress and anger before offering advice to those facing a similar situation. How could I criticize Charles Lacoste when I was guilty of doing the same? He’d done what he had in concern for his students. And, yes, the consequences would extend far into the future.
“What will happen to Wyatt?” I asked, praying the positive intentions we’d sent his way would help him endure the severe consequences to his actions.
“He’s currently in secure detainment at Hillcrest Juvenile Hall awaiting a trial hearing and further placement decisions.”
The track of stitches on the side of my head started to throb like short-circuiting relay coils detecting an oncoming train. “Will he be okay?”
“A crisis responder at the detainment facility will examine and evaluate him. The results are then sent to juvenile court, which will determine the final outcome of his arrest. The overriding aim of the court is to rehabilitate youthful offenders and get them back on track. So, I have high hopes that the presiding judge will defer prosecution until Wyatt has successfully completed a treatment program. After which charges could be dismissed.”
“That would be a relief.”
“His parents have hired a lawyer because of the seriousness of his offenses. Not only did he bring a loaded gun to school, but prescription drugs as well.”
“Darn.”
“Which he was distributing to his classmates at no charge. The gun, his father’s service revolver, came from a locked closet safe purchased by the sheriff’s department. Considering how easy it was for Wyatt to pry the safe open with a wire hanger and a bit of doorknob juggling, I expect it will soon be pulled from the market.” Judge Stein paused to eye the ten stitches on my scalp. “Since the gun came from a locked safe, Wyatt’s parents won’t be criminally liable. And since you aren’t pressing charges, they won’t be required to pay the substantial sum you’re entitled to for injuries and resulting trauma.”
The loud click of the wall clock reminded me that Open House was about to begin. “One last thing. Ethan led us in prayer on Granny Max’s behalf…”
“Yes, something else I meant to thank you for. He’d been working with our rabbi for months in preparation for his Bar Mitzvah. You should’ve heard his speech, all about what’s important, like family, community, and a relationship with God. He talked about moral awareness and learning to take responsibility for one’s actions. Having the opportunity to put his words into practice” — Judge Stein paused and cleared her throat— “has made a big difference in his world. And my husband’s and mine as well.” She glanced at her watch and stepped toward the door. “Now, I really must go.”
“Thanks for coming by,” I said. “The school violence issue you’ll be discussing tonight is an important one. I understand why your vote is crucial.”
No sooner had Judge Stein left than Codi rushed in. “Ms. Veil, Mom’s not coming.”
“I’m so sorry—”
“No, don’t be sorry. She’s in rehab. Tessa healed her.”
Oh Lord, not again. “There may be other reasons,” I cautioned.
“Of course, there are. My attitude’s better since we started talking about stuff in class, but Mom changed, too. When she picked me up at the Ardis’s during Spring Break, Tessa touched her.”
“Just touched her?”
“She gave Mom a hug and then did whatever she does. She said it’s like kissing with your hands.”
“What about your father?”
“I’m hoping he’ll come back once Mom stops drinking. He says he still loves her but can’t stand watching her kill herself.”
“He left you behind.”
“I couldn’t leave Mom. She needed me. And because of me…because of us…she’s going to be okay.”
What happened next, I can only describe as the opening of floodgates. Jason, Luke, Tessa, and their parents walked in, followed by Granny Max carrying a platter of cookies. As promised, she’d provided our class with her journals and the results of tests her doctors had performed, all amazingly positive. Her cancer had shrunk. Which she attributed to meditation, journaling, music therapy—and our healing prayers—rather than relying solely on her doctors for a cure. “I may have to reduce my workload next year,” she’d informed us, “but I’ll be back, no question about it.”
After that, I only recognized one of the other thirty people who crowded into the room—Dr. Matt. His neck craned forward and his head turned right, then left, reminding me of a periscope searching for threats in enemy waters. He caught me watching and gave a slight nod. “What’s with all the people?”
I shrugged, equally amazed at the big turnout, but not about to admit it. It was Open House for all at West Coast Middle School. Why shouldn’t people visit our classroom? “Don’t have a clue.”
He frowned.
Okay, so my answer implied that I didn’t care, but darn it, this after-school class was his idea and, as far as I could tell, a great success. The creative energy and enthusiasm circulating the room were impossible to ignore. He tugged at his ear and opened his mouth to speak when Tessa skipped through the open door, bright as tinsel and as hard to ignore. “Angelina’s back!”
No sooner had the news filtered my mind than Angelina entered, accompanied by a couple I assumed to be her parents. My clue? The tears in their eyes. They’d attracted a crowd of well-wishers, who clapped as if at a revival. Weak-kneed, I sank onto the edge of my desk.
Angelina walked toward me with her parents in tow. “Ms. Veil, I’d like you to meet my mom and dad.”
I stood and held out my hand.
“Oh no, you don’t.” Mr. Sousa pulled me into a victory hug, like the hug players give one another after a big win; not quite the running toward each other and leaping into the air kind of hug, but a pre-hug invitation and a quick pull and release. “Name’s Greg.”
Mrs. Sousa nudged him aside. “And I’m Marci.” She kissed one of my cheeks then the other. “Sorry we took so long to get back to you, but we didn’t believe at first that—”
“She was cured,” Greg said, his voice wobbly.
Cured or healed? Cured meant Angelina’s illness was in remission and her symptoms gone, a miracle by medical standards. If healed, Angelina would recognize that her physical condition didn’t change who she was. And that would be the true miracle.
“We can’t thank you enough,” Marci said.
I’d done little more than lead the students—and myself—to the edge, where our imaginations could breathe, grow wings, and soar. The kids had taken it from there. Imagine that, a bunch of indulged, troublesome, impatient, resistant, tuned-out brats accomplishing the extraordinary.
“The doctors said the cancer’s gone,” Angelina said, “and there’s no scientific explanation. So, I told them the explanation is spiritual.”
“They couldn’t
refute the test results,” Greg said.
Angelina grabbed Tessa’s hand and pulled her close. “Tessa is the healer I told you about, Mom and Dad. She heals with her hands. I asked her how, and she said she didn’t know, so I looked it up on the Internet. It’s called Reiki. Tessa even sends Reiki through her eyes.”
Tessa beamed at Angelina, the way a younger sister beams at an older sister who can do no wrong. Members of the crowd whispered and gathered close.
“Anyone interested in checking out our Open House projects?” Jason asked, a glib reminder of the reason for our gathering. “Shawn calls his project ‘First Light.’”
Warmth crept over me. First Light? The name Maya had given our class.
Shawn motioned for his Uncle Matt to follow him and then launched into his rehearsed presentation. “‘First Light,’ refers to the first light emission, billions of years ago moments after the big bang.”
“My project is out in the nature area,” Codi said to those within hearing. “It’s getting dark, but you don’t need light to appreciate what I’m going to show you. If you like drumming and music that gets you shaking, this demonstration is for you.”
I laughed, having gotten a taste of Codi’s presentation earlier in the day, an effective opening to divine connection and healing.
“My project is about nonviolent communication,” Ethan said. “I modeled it after Marshall Rosenberg’s Nonviolent Communication Training Course, which tells you how to connect with others through empathy, integrity, and peace.”
He didn’t look very peaceful to me, but his scowl was now one of concentration instead of disapproval, which came as a relief. It was hard to imagine thirteen-year-olds talking about light emissions, the big bang, shaking, and nonviolent communication, the smartest teens I’d ever known.
The crowd was thinning when Charles Lacoste walked in. I experienced a defibrillator-type kick to my chest and sat back down. Not only was he walking unassisted, he had a smile on his face. Tessa touched my arm and signaled with a glance. Don’t worry. I’ll divert his attention.
“Mr. Lacoste, we’re so glad you’re back,” she said, her voice gentle, her face luminous. I wondered if she was sending him Reiki through her eyes. “Would you like to see my epigenetics project?”
He nodded a greeting to our little group and followed Tessa to the southeast corner of the classroom.
“Let’s listen in,” Angelina said to her parents. “Tessa’s project is about the wisdom of your cells.”
“I’m glad Mr. Lacoste is okay,” Luke said. “Did you know Ethan invited him to our classroom the day we teleported to the Winchester Mystery House?”
“Why on earth did he do that?” I asked.
“Beats me,” Luke said.
“Ms. Veil?” It was Brad, Brave Puppy, with his mother in tow. “Can we take a look around?”
“Of course.” I enjoyed seeing him again, despite his visit during our mask-making session, which had precipitated a tongue-lashing from Dr. Matt. Maybe he, too, was an Indigo. He was certainly drawn to the class, as was his mother.
“I pray they’ll come up with something like this for kids like Brad,” Vicki said. “He would benefit. All kids would.”
I agreed but didn’t say so. It’s all about living in the now anyway and, at that moment, Brad was one of us.
“Marjorie?” It was Charles Lacoste. Tessa’s epigenetic demo must have been a short one. “I owe you my deepest apology and need to tell you something I’ve told no one.” He pulled in a breath so deep his chest expanded like the diaphragmatic breathing of yoga meditation. “What no one around here knows is that I died on the way to the hospital.”
He closed his eyes for several seconds, giving me time to absorb what he’d just said. The word “died” pierced like a sting.
“My experience was a carbon copy of what you hear about in all those near-death accounts,” Charles Lacoste said. “The light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel thing. And the sense of peace, love, and well-being on the other side. What differed was that Ethan and the rest of your students joined me in my out-of-body travel. Crazy, but true. Ethan told me I was the best teacher he’d ever had and that he needed me. Can you believe it? Then he and the others pulled me back. I haven’t shared this with anyone, because I’m afraid they’ll think I’m a nutcase like…”
“Like me,” I said, not the least bit offended.
Lacoste’s eyes widened for a moment, as if to let more of me in or more of himself out. Then he smiled with such kindness and understanding I knew he’d changed in a life-altering way. “Yes, a nutcase like you.”
“Um, Ms. Veil.” It was Angelina. “Dr. Matt wants to talk to you.”
I looked at the clock. Eight-thirty. Already?
“The presentations were amazing,” Dr. Matt said to the crowd gathered around him.
Shawn beamed at me like the Big Sur lighthouse. I accepted his light with gratitude, feeling rather shipwrecked and glad for the solid ground beneath my feet.
“I’ve witnessed a group of nonconformists tonight,” Dr. Matt continued, “independent and self-reliant beyond imagination, yet united as one.”
So, what else is new?
“The danger of nonconformity is that children can feel different, isolated, and lonely,” Dr. Matt said. “They risk losing friends, losing interest, and turning to drugs and alcohol.”
Nothing I haven’t heard before.
“But what I witnessed eight weeks ago at Spring Faire and again tonight shows none of these negatives. To put it in a nutshell, I’m quite impressed.”
The clapping sounded strange to my ears, too loud—too much. My cheeks burned. My belly hurt. What now?
Angelina motioned for me to come forward. “Ms. Veil, we’d like to present you with a small token of our appreciation.”
More clapping.
Oh dear.
Ethan held out what appeared to be a small jeweler’s box. “You answered a lot of my questions with, ‘I don’t know,’ and it really bugged me.”
Applause. Hooting. I cringed. How could anything good come from this?
“But now, I know it’s okay not to have all the answers,” Ethan said. “It’s the questions that are important.” He glanced at Charles Lacoste, then back at me. “When you believe you know all the answers, you stop asking questions, and then the learning stops.” He handed me the box in a quick, jerking motion. “This is from us…your students, Ms. Veil.”
My hands shook as I opened the lid. Inside rested a silver chain. I lifted it out of the box and held it to the light. An exquisite pendant in the shape of a question mark swayed in front of my eyes like Chevreul’s pendulum.
“We had it specially made,” Tessa said.
I couldn’t speak.
“Out of platinum,” Jason added. “Our parents and Granny Max chipped in.”
I shook my head, couldn’t get a word past the humungous lump in my throat.
“Do you like it?” Angelina asked.
“Of course, she does,” Shawn said. “That’s why she’s crying.”
“You were courageous to take on an impossible task,” Dr. Matt said, “and, miraculously, the after-school class worked.”
Courage had played little part in my decision to take on the task, but I didn’t have time to explain. “Ignorant might be a better word.”
“A little ignorance plus unconditional love,” Dr. Matt said, “works every time.”
“She took us to the edge,” Shawn said.
“Here, here,” Jason cheered. “As in edge-ucation.”
I pressed my hand to my heart, unsure how much more I could take without bawling my eyes out. Shawn laughed. He was reading my mind again. And for once, I didn’t care.
“One more announcement,” Codi said, which drew the attention away from me, thank God. I needed a tissue and time to regroup. “We made two hundred and fifty bucks at Spring Faire and decided to put it toward extending our after-school c
lass into a program open to many. It’s not much, but it’s a start. We’re calling it First Flight, and” —she held up Ethan’s new owl, which had dimension, texture, and character that the original had lacked— “the owl will be its mascot to symbolize intuition, independence, and freedom.”
The applause hurt my ears, warmed my heart.
The line between ecstasy and pain is a thin one.
Chapter Fifty-two
“NEXT THURSDAY WILL BE your last day,” Dr. Matt said when I arrived at school on June 5—as if this were groundbreaking news. He’d caught me in the hallway next to the attendance office sorting through my mail. “I wanted to let you know…” He started to reach for his ear, then dropped his hand as if about to pledge to the flag.
Now that I knew him better, I found his ear tugging habit endearing rather than a signal to get my dander up. I waited to see where this conversation would lead.
“Starting August, I’m extending our after-school class program threefold and opening it to students other than Indigos. Thanks to Judge Stein, the school board has given me its full backing. All we’re missing is the funding and” —he paused, his gaze expectant, almost clinging, as if trying to drag something out of me— “qualified teachers.”
I didn’t know what to say. Well, actually I did, but wasn’t about to say it. Two additional after-school classes wouldn’t be enough for all the students with latent, possibly dying, talents that needed to flower and grow. But Dr. Matt would have to discover that for himself. “For funding, I’d contact Ron Ardis,” I said, recalling his promise to provide moral and financial support for the addition of more classes to the after-school program if I helped his son. “I’m sure he’ll do everything within his power to promote your project. As for teachers… How about Granny Max and” —what the hell— “Charles Lacoste?”
Between Now and Forever Page 30