***
The emergency dispatcher called the police. The police reported the threat to the school district’s administration. The administration called the high schools, the alternative school, the middle schools, and the elementary schools. Each one issued a lock down alert without delay. The practiced procedures included an announcement on the public address system. Teachers pulled any students wandering the hall into their classrooms and locked the doors. Shades were pulled, lights turned off, computers shut down. Students were directed to sit under their desks or grouped on the floor away from the doors and windows.
Emily knew the drill. She was at a back corner table in the library when the lockdown announcement was made. She nestled herself under the table with her satchel and books. She expected five minutes of bothered excitement as the librarian worried her way around the room. There were no blinds to pull in the large media center and turning the lights off wouldn’t make much difference. Seven windows allowed an expansive view into and out of the room. If this wasn’t a drill the librarian or her assistant would rush her into the back office. So far, though, no one had come out of the office. Maybe they were on break. Wouldn’t it be funny if they had been swept into a classroom and made to sit under some kid’s desk?
Five minutes became ten. Emily thought of Chuck in his hiding place. That might be hard to explain. He might be mistaken for a threat. She imagined the commotion. He would protest and his objections would get him into deeper trouble. He might attack someone like he attacked Megan.
Emily peeked out toward the hallway. She could hear the jangle of lockers being opened one by one. They were checking for bombs. Or weapons. She didn’t see how she could get past them to warn Chuck, unless she waited until they went down the next hallway.
***
“Your grandfather is a pretty wise man,” Megan said as she buckled her seatbelt. “But I still feel like a horrible person.”
“Join the club.”
“What? What have you ever done?”
Ben started the car, turned on the heater, and put his hand over Megan’s. “It’s more like what I didn’t do.”
Megan cocked her head, ready to hear whatever he wanted to share.
Ben pressed his other hand against the steering wheel until his knuckles popped. “I stood by and let a friend get bullied.” He looked from Megan to the street. When all she did was grasp his hand tightly, he continued. “And it happened more than once. I’m pretty ashamed of myself. I’ve tried to make up for it, but . . .”
***
Ed Rose was starting to think that every other car on the road was a match for Ben’s. He had been fooled by some little brunette at the Pancake House, then he had followed another car almost across the county line. He rounded his trip back by swinging by the hockey arena, but it was closed until noon.
He was irritated enough to go back to the house and take out his temper on his wife, but more appealing was the thought of discussing a harsher penalty for Ben with his principal or truant officer or whoever he had to see about such things. Grounding the boy was too light a punishment.
He exceeded the speed limit, spun his tires on a slippery turn, and cut someone off before he reached the round-about. This particular traffic circle was bedlam before and after school when all the teenage drivers ruled the road, but Ed was the only one maneuvering through now. He pulled up to the school and looked for the visitors’ parking lot.
***
“Shit! Shit, shit, shit.” Cori’s exasperation was matched by her anger. She was sure she had left the door unlocked. But it was locked now and she had no way to get in. She kicked her boot against the brick and stepped back.
Maybe, yeah maybe. She was as angry as before so . . . if she really concentrated she might be able to . . . uh, this wasn’t going to work. Whatever demonic power she had before had disappeared. Option number two: kick in jerk-off’s basement window. Ben might be mad at her for breaking in, but there wasn’t an option three.
And then there was.
Mrs. Beridon’s car pulled right up the driveway over Ben’s recent tracks. Cori started kicking at the window anyway.
“I just want OUT!”
Cori kept up the chant even after Mrs. Beridon settled her in the front seat. “Out. Out. Out. I want OUT of my life.”
“You know what, dear? Is there anything in that house that you absolutely have to have?”
Cori pictured all of her black clothes, the jewelry, the things from the attic. She didn’t have much. She pulled off a glove and felt in her pocket. She pulled out two things: a wedding ring and a small pin still wrapped in its original package.
“What’s that dear?” Mrs. Beridon held out her hand and Cori dropped both things in.
“They’re not even mine. I found them.” She jerked her head toward the attic.
“Oh, a wedding ring and a National Honor Society pin.”
“An NHS pin? Is that what that is?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Beridon smiled. “But you knew that. I think these two things represent two dreams of yours, don’t they?”
Cori nodded. She knew she was grinning like a six-year-old, but she didn’t care. “There’s nothing in the house that I need.”
“Good, then we can get started on your new life right now. If you’ll trust me, I can make everything work out. I have really great connections.”
***
Ben spotted the police car first. “Trouble at school. I wonder what’s going on.”
“Look. All the shades are drawn. Every classroom.”
“Lockdown drill,” they said together and laughed. Everyone liked the lockdown drill the best. It was like a time out from class without the hassle of a fire drill or the confusion of a tornado drill. A lockdown drill usually lasted only five minutes though a bomb scare last year kept everyone huddled for an entire class period. Kids texted each other and then their parents and soon half the town showed up and clogged the roads around the school.
Ben parked the car and sent a quick text to a friend in his second hour class to ask how long since the drill started.
“What did he say?” Megan leaned closer to look at the tiny screen.
“Twelve minutes so far. That’s not good.”
“You think it’s not a drill?”
Ben shrugged, restarted the car, and explained, “We’re going to loop around both parking lots and look for Chuck’s car.” He eased the car down the row.
Megan shivered. “What’ll we do if we find it?”
Ben didn’t answer at first. He stopped the car and pointed at a familiar vehicle. He exhaled with all the control he could garner. “I’ve gotta fix this. I know where he’ll go, what he’ll do.”
***
Emily kept her eye on the parking lot. She had seen Ben’s car come in and park and then pull out again. She crawled to the window and tried to solve the little mystery of Ben’s parking game.
Oh, Megan was with him.
Now they were stalled in the lane. Now he was going in reverse all the way back to the first empty spot. He parked again. She watched them get out their doors then take their coats off and toss them back in. Smart, she thought, they were going to sneak back in and go straight to class, avoid the attendance office, and claim they were marked absent by mistake.
She raised her hand to wave. They wouldn’t know there was a lockdown. They’d walk right into a locker search; they wouldn’t be able to get into their locked classrooms.
She stood up and waved some more. If they saw her, maybe they would take the path to the library door. She could let Ben in . . . let them in.
She used both arms. She was almost doing jumping jacks. She hadn’t moved this much in forever and it felt good.
***
They stomped their feet hard as they skated past Emily then dove for cover under the table with Emily’s things.
“No one is here,” Emily said as she joined them under the wooden table. “We don’t have to hide.”
“Have there
been any PA announcements? What’s going on?”
Emily kept her eyes down. “No, just the first one. They’re searching the lockers now. I’m worried they’ll find Chuck.”
Ben grasped her arm, released her when she winced, “Sorry, but how do you know about Chuck?”
She risked a glance up. “I saw him . . . behind the vending machines.”
Ben listened to the rest of what she had to say, nodded, and took off.
***
Ed Rose was not happy that he was being made to sit in the interior office. His anger had not abated, but now it was directed at the vice-principal and her rude brush off. This drill was ridiculously long. He wasn’t going to wait any longer. He opened the door and glanced around the reception area. Empty.
He buttoned his coat and peered down the empty hallways. He could hear metallic clanging coming from the second floor, the sound echoing down the central staircase. And then a movement caught his eye.
“Well, I’ll be . . .” he didn’t finish the thought. He stepped into the hall, glad for the stealth of his rubber soles on the old vinyl floor. Of all the kids in this building, it was his step-kid who had the gall to sneak out during a lockdown. And for a soft drink no less.
***
“Chuck, I know you’re there.” Ben kept his voice as low as possible. He braced himself, one hand on each of the two largest machines. He could see the mirror where Emily had described it. Nothing was reflecting back except the gray cinder block wall behind the machines. He kept his head close to the crack, spoke into the tense air. There was a buzz growing throughout the whole school. Impatience was winning everywhere. “Chuck . . . it’s me, Ben. I want to tell you that I’m still sorry. And I’ll always . . . always be your friend. No matter what, buddy.”
Ben saw a change in the reflection, a movement, some hair, then a brow, then a dark eyelid. Finally Chuck’s eye filled the inch or so of reflecting glass. He had smudged some camouflage on his face; his eyes were masked with brown or dark gray shadow.
Ben sighed. “Chuck, there’s a lockdown. They’re gonna find you and you’re gonna get in trouble. Come on, buddy. I can get you outta here.”
***
Chuck felt his brother’s absence, but there was another brother now. Someone or something was filling up that space. It came with more anger, fury, rage, and desperation than Chuck had ever experienced. It was his brother, but it wasn’t Adam.
He listened to Ben’s pleas with other ears. In his own heart he felt regret, he tried to hold onto Ben’s words. Ben was his friend. He would always be his friend.
But a heavy crush of doubt left his heart and his hopes flat.
His ears stopped hearing. He moved the gun forward, shifted his weight. His head sought a better angle and he moved over the mirror until Ben’s face was in his view. If there was remorse or pity or shame on that face, Chuck’s eyes were blind to such emotion. The blackness within had sealed up all of Chuck’s passions but one.
He angled the barrel of the gun to match the reflection.
Someone had to pay. It might as well be Ben. He was as guilty as any.
***
“Ben!” Ed’s voice was a bombshell, a staggering surprise that caught Ben so off guard that between the sudden appearance of the gun’s round end above the mirror, and his step-father’s shout, he simply dropped to his knees.
The crack of the gun, the piercing of his flesh, the hardness of the floor as his head banged down – all were bolts of surprise.
Another loud and echoing shot blasted behind the vending machine. Ben rolled his head, looked back for Ed, saw him on the floor. Saw the blood. Rolled back. More blood oozed from under the dusty legs of the machine. He saw a ball of dust, a nickel, a friend’s twitching finger. More blood. Chuck’s blood.
Shouts. Trampling feet. Hands upon him. Voices. Shiny things.
Scraping.
Hushed and staggered questions.
Crackly intercoms.
But he was all right. His head was bumped. His arm was scorched. But he was all right.
How was Chuck? Was Chuck all right?
Yes, that’s my step-father. Is he dead? You can tell me. I’m all right. Just grazed. I don’t need an ambulance. No, just call my mom. Is Ed dead? Is Chuck all right? No, I don’t know anything about any guns. Who? Yes, that’s my girlfriend you can let her through. Yes, Emily, too, she’s my friend, my very good friend. I’m all right. Please, just tell me about Chuck.
***
Emily rushed after Megan when they heard the shots. The closed classrooms they passed shook and shuddered; screams escaped. Ground floor windows were being flung open and kids were piling out into the snow, running for cover.
She slowed to a walk and let Megan go on. She’d have to cut herself as punishment if she didn’t follow through and prove her hunch. She slipped down the side hallway that hadn’t yet been searched. She checked the locker numbers, found number 413, four one three, like the taps she heard from Chuck, the message. The locker had no padlock. She hesitated, thought about the fingerprints she was about to leave, the incrimination, her bad luck, her nightmares, her guilt. And she opened the door and touched the gun.
When she came up behind Megan she touched her hand, gave a squeeze, and said that everything was going to work out. She even tried a smile, but Megan wasn’t looking. Finally someone let them through to Ben. Emily watched Megan take his hand. Everything was going to work out fine, she thought. For Megan. For Ben. But not for her.
She listened to the policeman talk on his radio. They had confirmed the identity of Chuck Burdick, the son of this morning’s homicide victims. They had a gun at the scene and had found another in a bag in one of the restrooms.
“Sir,” she interrupted the police officer. He held the radio away from his lips. “There’s another gun in locker 413.”
She didn’t hear his response or feel his touch as he moved her aside. She kept her eyes on Ben. She didn’t expect to ever see him again. Megan blocked her view for an instant, but she saw him pass her the car keys. Wasn’t that just like Ben? He wanted to be sure she had a way home.
It was the last thing she saw before her eyes went dark and her throat closed up. She let the demon take her, let herself be blind and mute. Out. She wanted out. Out of her life. Out. Out. Out. That wish was finally being granted. Infinite sorrow raped her soul.
Monday
Chapter 22
Mrs. Beridon parked in front of the school the same as any other Monday and watched for Megan to come out the door. With all that had happened she had hoped to wrangle one last visitation with Simon for Megan, but that was not to be. The poor girl didn’t even know about the ruling yet and would get into the car with hopeful expectations.
And there she was, all smiles and anticipation, with a bounce in her walk.
“Hi, Mrs. Beridon, how are you?” Megan said as soon as she opened the car door.
“Fine, and you?”
“Great. Uh, listen, . . . I have something to talk to you about.”
The social worker left the car in park after Megan buckled up. A calming presence guided her to listen to all that Megan had to say and only intersperse an encouragement, an “oh, Megan”, or a “that’s probably best, dear” to affirm the heavy conclusion that Megan had reached with Ben’s help.
Then she broke the news that the judge had already made his decision: Megan’s parental rights had been terminated. Mrs. B reached a hand out, smiled through the tears along with Megan, whose heart had miraculously been prepared. As hard as it was to hear the finality of the verdict, there was a burden lifted, a life returned, a bittersweet relief.
“And how is that boy you like?” Mrs. Beridon asked as she drove Megan home. “I heard he wasn’t hurt badly.”
“He drove me to school today, but he went back to the hospital,” Megan said. “His step-dad is in a coma. They don’t think he’ll ever wake up. There’s major brain damage, I guess. It’s pretty sad. Ben hasn’t left his mother’s si
de.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, but, you know, things always work out. That bullet was meant for him and it only nicked him. It’s unfortunate that his step-father was in its path. Hmm. Mysterious. And how is Emily?”
“Well, they let Emily come back home. She really didn’t have anything to do with it, you know, but . . . she’s really messed up. She won’t come out of her room.”
“Is there anything I can do?” She softened her voice. “Technically, you know, I’m off your case, but I do a lot more than just the social work.” She parked in the driveway for the third time that day. “Here, take this.” She handed her a three by five card that was tucked in the visor. “I tried to help Emily before, but she resisted. Maybe now she’s ready.”
The card was the same one that Emily and Ben had. Megan stared at it for a moment, turned it over, and re-read the list of problems that Mrs. Beridon and her friends could help solve.
Megan dared to voice her fear. “The self-mutilation was scary, but . . . I think it’s related to this.” She pointed to the last thing on the list. “Can you help with that?”
“I can, and you’ll never guess who my apprentice is.”
***
Ben rang the front doorbell at 328 Elm and waited with a bouquet of flowers in one hand hidden behind his back. The door swung open and Megan practically pulled him into the foyer with an eagerness that matched his.
He kissed her and offered the flowers. “These are for you.”
“Thank you.”
“Hey, have you been crying?”
Megan turned to take the flowers to the kitchen. “A little.”
“What’s wrong? Didn’t your visit with Simon go well?”
She filled a tall drinking glass with water and stuck the flowers in. “There was no visit. I’m not his . . . his mom anymore.” She choked on the words, dropped her hands to her sides, but tried to smile.
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