by Jacob Stone
“Rachel’s staying at the house until this mess is over, and when she’s home Parker sleeps in her room. I didn’t have the heart to drag him out of there at four in the morning.”
“And this way he’s home protecting Nat and Rachel.”
Morris smiled, his true motive uncovered. “That also,” he admitted. “What can you tell me about this guy?”
Stonehedge grinned savagely. “I tried like hell to break his wrist. I might have succeeded.”
“Let’s hope so. Anything else?”
“I insulted his breath.”
“That’s something.”
“I gave him a good shot to the nose. I don’t know if I broke it, but I bloodied him.”
“I heard that. Thanks to you we’ve got plenty of his DNA.”
The actor’s grin became more of a grimace. “His face couldn’t have been more than two feet from mine, but the lights were off, and all I can tell you for certain is he has a shaved head and he didn’t have any facial hair. I don’t even think he had eyebrows.”
“That’s more than we knew before,” Morris said. “I should tell you, we found out how he got into your house. Through the skylight above the kitchen. He was able to force it open, and then he climbed down using a rope ladder, which he left in the kitchen. He must’ve planned to get it on his way out.”
Stonehedge frowned thinking about that. “If the skylight is tampered with, it’s supposed to send an alarm to the police.” Then he remembered about the power to his property being cut.
“That sonofabitch,” he swore. “Damn, I wish I had shot him.”
Chapter 48
Short Hills, New Jersey, 1999
Jason’s second-period English class was interrupted by the school secretary, Mrs. Partridge, entering the classroom and informing the teacher that Master Dorsage was to proceed immediately to the headmaster’s office.
Jason got up from his desk and looked apprehensively at his teacher, then at Mrs. Partridge. “Is anything wrong?” he asked.
Mrs. Partridge, in a tone icy enough to leave frostbite, replied, “Headmaster Rector will explain to you what this is about.”
As Jason left the room with his head lowered and looking like he was being led to the gallows, Simon Witt broke out laughing and said loudly enough for the whole class to hear, “I bet dumbass Dorsage is getting booted out of Avery.”
Jason didn’t return to the classroom, but later that day waited in the hallway for Witt, and when he saw him, he rushed his archnemesis and dragged him into the boys’ room before Witt could react. Witt stumbled backward and almost fell to the floor before recovering his balance.
Jason stood trembling, his hands clenched, his breathing rapid. “I should kick your ass for what you did,” he threatened, his voice strained as if it took every ounce of self-control he possessed to keep from physically attacking the other boy.
At first Witt looked alarmed, but as he watched Jason, a calculating look took over.
“You’re a maniac,” he said.
“I know what you did, you rat-faced creep!”
“I don’t like you calling me that!”
“The name fits more than ever. I know you narced on me.”
Witt took a small step backward and fingered his chin as he considered the accusation. “What makes you think I did that?” he asked.
Jason burst out with an angry laugh. “Rector showed me the anonymous letter you wrote saying you witnessed Anthony Lepke selling me Adderall.”
“I take back calling you a maniac. You’re a delusional maniac.”
“You don’t think I recognized your handwriting?”
Witt continued to finger his chin, a glimmer brightening his eyes. “Let’s say I’m guilty as charged,” he said, teasingly. “There’s nothing you can do about it, except bend over and take it from me one more time.”
Jason stood exasperated. He stammered out, “You want to mess with me so badly you’re willing to mess with Lepke also?”
“You bet I do. And what do I care about Lepke?” He made a face as if he wanted to spit out something unpleasant. “He’s a moron who shouldn’t be at Avery. It’s embarrassing having someone like him here.”
“You’re unbelievable. But guess what? Your plan didn’t work. Rector told me he’s not going to punish a student because of an anonymous letter. So you didn’t get anything out of this!”
Witt smiled nastily. “I wouldn’t say that’s true. Seeing you work yourself into a sputtering tizzy is priceless.” He pointed a bony index finger at Jason. “If you ever touch me again, I’ll kick you in the face.”
For good measure, Witt demonstrated one of his exotic tae kwon do kicks, and he made sure to push his shoulder hard into Jason’s chest as he brushed past him and left the bathroom. Jason stood shaking, amazed at not only how well it had gone, but at his performance. Easily Oscar-award caliber, if he said so himself. The secret was channeling all of his hatred for Witt into it.
It had been five weeks since Witt destroyed the Rube Goldberg machine he was building, and it was so rewarding to see the first several steps of his plan work so perfectly. The first step had been taken a week ago when he did in fact buy Adderall from Anthony Lepke. The second was executed earlier that morning when he gave an equally convincing performance for Headmaster Rector. Most of what he had told Witt was true. Rector questioned him about the anonymous letter that accused him of buying prescription drugs from Lepke on school grounds. Rector, while unhappy about the charges made in the letter, did in fact tell him he wasn’t going to take action based solely on an anonymous accusation. Jason had even mostly told Witt the truth about the letter being written in Witt’s handwriting, although it was really written so it would appear as if Witt had written it.
He smiled thinking about that part. He had plenty of writing samples from when he and Witt were friends and they had spent afternoons working together on a story outline for a graphic novel. It took hours of practice before he could master Witt’s handwriting, but he felt confident the anonymous letter he had forged to look like it came from Witt’s hand would fool almost anyone, even many handwriting experts.
He moved over to the sink and turned the faucet on, then proceeded to splash water over his face as if he were upset and trying to calm himself down. He kept this up until he heard the toilet flushing in one of the stalls, and then looked up startled as if he thought he’d been alone in the boys’ room. This was another part that Witt didn’t know about. Jason had seen Lewis Pomerantz earlier enter the bathroom, and he had made sure Pomerantz had gone into a stall before lying in wait for Witt. His plan required a witness for his confrontation with Witt, and Pomerantz would more than do. While he wasn’t known as a big gossiper, his girlfriend was, and before the end of the day all of Avery would be hearing about it. Without a doubt. Even Headmaster Rector.
Pomerantz left the stall and made it a point not to make eye contact with Jason. He walked over to the sink two away from Jason’s, not to wash his hands, but so he could check himself out in the mirror as he combed his hair.
“You were talking to Simon Witt, right?” he asked.
Jason straightened up and stopped splashing water on his face. He gave a stunned look. “I didn’t know anyone else was in here. Come on, man, be decent about this, don’t tell anyone what you heard.”
Pomerantz smirked as he put his comb away. Without saying anything else, he left the bathroom.
Word would soon be spreading. No question about it. Assuming Witt didn’t go running to Rector first, the headmaster would feel compelled to bring Witt to his office to ask whether he was the author of the letter, and Witt would undoubtedly take credit for it. There was little chance the smug little prick would be able to help himself from doing otherwise, or even bother to think about the consequences. And there were going to be consequences. Lepke was two years older than them. He was also bigger, heavier,
and a lot meaner in a brutish sort of way.
Jason marveled at how everything was falling so neatly into place. In a way, he had created a living and breathing Rube Goldberg machine.
He squeezed his eyes closed, and in his mind’s eye he could see all the events lined up as dominos, each falling into the next.
It gave him goose bumps.
Chapter 49
Short Hills, New Jersey, 1999, that same day
At first Simon Witt thought Duh-sage had given him a wonderful gift, but as he thought more about it, he realized instead it was a puzzle that needed solving. He couldn’t just go to Rector and claim ownership of the anonymous letter Duh-sage had blathered about for the simple reason that he didn’t know what details were in it. If Rector started questioning him about when and where the incident in question took place, Witt would be caught in a lie. He could pretty much guess where Duh-sage and Ape Boy did their transaction. The likely spot would have been behind the facilities building. That was on the far side of the campus, and nobody ever went there except for that kind of activity. But the big question still remaining was when it happened. That was what Witt had to figure out because he badly wanted to hurt Duh-sage. He couldn’t say exactly why that was, but he did. He also didn’t mind the idea of hurting Ape Boy, who as far as he was concerned was a dullard who didn’t deserve to be at Avery. It really was disgraceful having someone like him at the school—this simian-like creature with his unibrow and ridged forehead. Witt’s lips curled in disgust as he pictured Ape Boy. If anything, he’d be doing the school a great service if he were to cause Ape Boy to be expelled.
Witt wondered briefly who wrote the letter, but he decided it didn’t matter. He also doubted that the handwriting looked anything like his own—Duh-sage believed that because he would’ve seen only what he wanted to see. He would want to believe that only Witt would write a letter like that. Obviously, that wasn’t true. Someone else out there also wanted to hurt him. Or maybe that person just wanted to hurt Ape Boy. Witt found himself hoping it was the latter. He felt strangely possessive about being the one to torment and hurt Jason Dorsage.
He did, though, have an idea of how to get the information he needed. Noah English. He just needed to figure out the right opening so he’d catch English off guard. He’d have plenty of opportunities to engage English in seemingly innocent small talk since English’s locker was next to his.
During his next two classes Witt had trouble paying attention as he kept playing out different scenarios in his head of how he could trick English into divulging the information he wanted. He was distracted enough with these thoughts that he missed the whispers of snitch from his classmates and the dirty looks he received. It surprised him when his history teacher asked him to remain after class. She waited until they were alone before telling him that Headmaster Rector wanted to see him. “You should be discreet,” she suggested.
Witt took her advice and waited until the hallway was clear before knocking on Rector’s door. He knew it had to be about the letter. Was it possible that it did look like his handwriting and the headmaster wanted to see him after examining all the students’ handwriting? Or maybe Duh-sage had blurted out to Rector that he thought Witt wrote it?
He still hadn’t made up his mind whether he was going to try bluffing Rector, but the bloated walrus-human hybrid made it easy for him when he handed Witt the letter and asked whether he was the author.
Witt took his time reading it, somewhat amazed that the handwriting did look like his own, but he chalked it up as a bizarre coincidence, and nothing more.
“Yes,” he said, nodding earnestly. “I felt it was my responsibility as a student at Avery to report witnessing such dangerous and illegal behavior.” He forced a degree of humility as he added, “I regret not having the courage earlier to sign my name.”
Rector leaned back in the leather chair, fingers interlaced as his hands rested on his enormous belly, his eyes closing as if he were falling asleep. But they didn’t close completely.
“I see,” he said. “So your reasons were purely altruistic, and not personally motivated?”
Witt felt his cheeks reddening. “A student selling another student drugs is against the law. As headmaster I thought you’d want to know if this was happening on school grounds? Maybe I was wrong?”
Rector’s eyes glazed under his thick eyelids. “No, you’re not mistaken,” he said bluntly. “That is all.”
The headmaster picked up a report from his desk and focused his attention on it. Witt had been dismissed. Still, he sat for a minute staring at the bloated Rector, his cheeks smoldering with humiliation. It made no sense. There was nothing for him to be feeling humiliated about. And there was no reason that Rector should’ve treated him so contemptuously!
When he finally left, he felt as if he’d won a strategic battle, yet lost the war.
It was a funny feeling, and he didn’t understand the reason for it.
Chapter 50
Short Hills, New Jersey, 1999, 10 days later
Dorsage and Lepke weren’t expelled as Witt had hoped; instead they were only suspended for a week. To make matters worse, Witt learned later the same day he had seen Rector that Pomerantz had overheard his conversation with Dorsage and had spread it all over the school. Soon almost everybody was calling him a snitch, and Lepke’s fellow ape-like friends were giving him the evil eye when he passed them in the hallway. Even his own small circle of friends began avoiding him. All of this made Witt start to wonder more about how the handwriting in that letter had looked like his own. Was it possible Dorsage had set him up? Risk expulsion to make Witt a pariah in the school? All he knew for sure was that he needed to keep a low profile and hope the matter would blow over.
Once Lepke returned from his suspension, Witt heard whispers that Lepke was looking for him. He wasn’t necessarily scared of that ape—after all, he had his green belt in tae kwon do, and felt he could handle Lepke in a fight if it came to that. Still, he was careful as he moved around Avery, making sure that there were always teachers around. That was why it was such a surprise to him after he had walked into the boys’ room that three of Lepke’s friends followed him in. He could’ve sworn there was nobody around when he had darted into the bathroom.
“If you do anything I’ll see that you’re expelled,” Witt threatened. “And I’ll get the police after you.”
“Because you’re a snitch,” one of Lepke’s friends said.
Witt tried to walk past them, but one of them pushed him back.
“So it’s going to be three against one?” Witt asked.
“Uh uh,” one of them said. “We’re just here to make sure you don’t leave.”
It didn’t take long after that for Lepke to walk into the bathroom. His friends let him pass by.
“Who’s the moron now?” Lepke asked.
Witt was nervous. While he had sparred in class, he’d never been in a real fight. Still, he knew that the element of surprise meant everything. Without giving Lepke any warning, he spun around to deliver a tae kwon do kick, but before his foot could make contact with Lepke’s jaw, Lepke caught his ankle. For a painful moment, Witt stood helpless on one foot, then Lepke punched him so hard in the chest that Witt thought he was going to die. He didn’t die, though. Instead there was a dizzying whirl of motion as Lepke grabbed Witt by the back of his collar and dragged him into one of the stalls, then forced his face into the toilet bowl. Witt tried to hold his breath, but Lepke punched him in the side forcing him to gulp in water. Just as Witt was sure he was going to pass out, Lepke pulled his head out of the toilet bowl.
“I hate rats,” Lepke said into Witt’s ear, his breath smelling like sour milk. “I think they should all be drowned.”
Lepke dunked Witt’s face into the toilet bowl again and waited until Witt was on the verge of losing consciousness before pulling him out of the water.
�
��You’re going to come here every morning at seven a.m. on the dot for a private baptism,” Lepke said in a soft, menacing voice. “You don’t do that, or you tell anyone about what I’m doing to you, and I’m going to hurt you so bad you’ll never forget it. I’ll break every bone in your face, and that’s just for starters. It don’t matter whether I go to juvie, or you get me expelled, I’ll be working in my dad’s company. You can’t hurt me. But I’ll find you afterward. That’s a promise. You believe me, rat?”
Witt was too petrified to do anything but nod.
For what seemed like an eternity, Lepke held him by the scruff of the neck as he studied Witt, a confused look spreading over his face.
“Why’d you want to cause trouble for me?” Lepke demanded.
Witt wouldn’t have been able to talk if his life depended on it, even if he had anything to say.
Lepke punched him again, this time in the shoulder.
“You be here tomorrow at seven sharp,” Lepke warned. “I’m not kidding about what I told you before.”
Lepke and his friends left then. Witt gathered himself and left the stall. He was in a state of shock as he grabbed a handful of paper towels and dried his hair. As he gazed at his reflection in the mirror, he saw red-rimmed eyes staring back at him and skin the color of what you’d see on a corpse. He understood what Dorsage had done to him. His enemy had not only won whatever war they’d been engaged in, but had completely and utterly obliterated him. It was over, and surrender was no longer a possibility.
He still had no idea what was coming.
Chapter 51
Short Hills, New Jersey, 1999, 15 days later
Jason would’ve bet none of the other students in the classroom picked up on Headmaster Rector’s distress when he interrupted their fourth-period French class to ask Simon Witt to accompany him, but then again, Jason knew Rector better than any of them. Witt, for his part, meekly obliged like a little bitch, not even uttering as much as a peep. When school was abruptly closed at the end of the fourth period with no statement given, rumors started to fly. Some students claimed that the police had been waiting in the hallway for Rector to escort Witt from the classroom, and that the boy was later handcuffed and driven away in a police car. Other students were saying they saw police cars and an ambulance rushing to the facilities building, some with their lights flashing.