The Best Kind of People

by Zoe Whittall

  Joan wasn’t prepared to see the girls. In her head, she’d imagined them the way teenagers look on television when they’re played by twenty-five-year-old actresses and dressed in skimpy designer jeans. Instead, they looked the way Clara had looked in junior high, with braces and legs that hadn’t grown at the same rate as their arms. They looked the age Joan had been when she’d daydreamed at night about her first kiss. Joan’s face burned when she looked their way, tears formed when she saw the pained looks on the faces of their parents standing behind the prosecutor. She immediately thought of someone hurting Sadie, which produced a sudden thrum of nausea, and pain in pricks all over her body.

  She was even less prepared emotionally to see George.

  After they were seated, two guards led him into the room. They’d given him prison attire, which was very jarring, and he looked so pale and frightened, different from yesterday. He was so dishevelled, holding up his pants because they’d taken his belt. She’d never seen such a previously confident and commanding man so vulnerable. She was immediately thankful that Sadie wasn’t here to witness him like this. Even Andrew, who was used to trials, who had displayed the stoicism of his grandfather through the journey up to this point, began to shake, and had to turn his head away.

  Joan saw that George was scanning the crowd, looking for her. When they locked eyes, she broke down. After that, he kept his head bowed.

  The judge greeted the crowd and read a summary of the charges, including a new charge Joan wasn’t aware of, and announced that his trial was set for eight months from now. He would be incarcerated until then, with no chance of bail, due to his being a considerable flight risk.

  Joan felt as though she couldn’t hear; or rather, sound receded into the distance and was replaced by a persistant ringing, a swell of voices. She could make out Bennie’s voice, in the distance, as he announced his intention to appeal the no-bail decision. The gavel struck the bench.

  The judge basically said, in legalese, go ahead, but fat chance.

  When they led him away, a slip of himself in handcuffs, Joan watched herself as she fell to the floor, hands on the cold tiles breaking her fall. Mom, she heard. Mom. She was on her knees, palms down, fetal. Take a deep breath. Joan, Joan, her sister’s voice. Andrew grabbed Joan’s hand and helped her up and encourged her to sit down, then held onto her firmly. The judge banged his gavel again. The room quieted and Joan regained her senses.

  A man in a plaid sports jacket yelled, “Send him away for life!” George’s shoulders shook with sobbing as he walked away.

  “Innocent until proven guilty!” shouted Dorothy in a hysterical tone.

  “This is a conspiracy!” a voice rose from the crowd.

  Andrew grabbed Joan’s hand and helped her up. The judge banged his gavel.

  “George saved my life!” shouted the former Avalon Hills secretary, the woman whose boyfriend had tried to kill her a decade earlier. Joan hadn’t seen her in years; rumour had it she’d been on long-term disability for ptsd after the incident. “He’s got a good heart! He’s being framed!”

  “Order,” the judge shouted. “Please clear the room,” he said, annoyed at the spectacle.

  “Why didn’t you see this coming?” Joan asked Bennie in the car. He offered a run of apologies before admitting that he was basically stunned. Had he angered that particular judge? It made no sense to him.

  There was an awkward silence as everyone absorbed the reality that George wasn’t simply coming home as they’d all expected.

  After a few moments, Clara read aloud from an editorial published in that morning’s paper, written by a group calling itself Citizens in Defence of George Woodbury. “‘While we can’t know for certain, we can speculate, based on witnessed past behaviour on the part of Avalon girls while on school trips, that there is often contraband alcohol consumption and subsequent bad behaviour. According to one teacher chaperoning the senior trip in question, single-sex dorms were deemed coed once the chaperones had gone to bed. Many girls confessed to waking up ashamed of their behaviour, and one can easily speculate that some sought out a way to abdicate responsibility for their actions, many of which they have little to no memory of, except for what is caught on camera phones. Let us all remember that six students were suspended and three expelled when video footage of the trip was anonymously posted online, and none of the footage contained anything involving Mr. Woodbury. It is clear to us that Mr. Woodbury, who has never before been anything but a well-respected role model, going back to the day he literally saved the school from an armed gunman, is being framed by a group of girls unwilling to look at the role their own decisions had in a weekend trip gone awry. We have led our girls astray in our pornofied culture, and we should go back to the days of propriety and self-respect, something our young women so sorely need.’” Clara’s voice was thick with sarcasm. “I can’t believe the paper actually printed this disgusting, archaic, victim-blaming letter!”

  Joan would normally have vehemently agreed with her sister on this, but she could only place her hand against her tender heart and weep for the confusion she felt.

  twelve

  Andrew dropped by to see his sister after the hearing. She was sitting on Jimmy’s back deck with her school books and laptop.

  “They held him without bail,” Andrew said, trying to sound as gentle as he could, despite the rage he felt at his father’s incarceration.

  “Oh my god,” she said quietly, “Holy shit. I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I,” said Andrew. They sat awkwardly for a few minutes, sipping iced tea and watching Kevin weed the garden.

  “No school today? Are the kids being terrible?”

  “Someone threw a can of Coke at my head from a Town Car when I left the track this morning.”

  “Good to know chauffeured kids are still the worst.”

  Sadie nodded. “So, why isn’t Dad out of jail? He was going to be home today. I thought that was just, you know, a fact. How things work.” Sadie gulped her tea, chewing on a shard of ice. The afternoon clouds broke apart for a brief bit of sun.

  Andrew shook his head. “No, it’s a bit complicated. They’ve held him without bail on a technicality that Bennie is appealing. Something is going on with the family trust money, though. Mom was surprised she didn’t really know how much money they had, and it was less than she’d assumed.”

  “I can’t believe that Mom didn’t know how much money Dad had. That’s weird. She’s such a control freak.”

  “I also found that odd,” Andrew admitted. “But the wealth that Grandpa had, you know, it doesn’t last forever unless it’s properly invested, right, and Dad was never good at that stuff. Perhaps that’s what happened, you know. They have a nest egg, but it’s not limitless, the way we’ve always assumed.”

  “Do you think she’s abandoned him?”

  Andrew shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think it’s that straightforward. I think she really does think that this will all magically blow over.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “Not after seeing those girls today in court. I’m not sure at all.”

  He opened up his iPad and showed Sadie an article. The headline read town divided over popular teacher. A photo of Dorothy holding up a sign of support accompanied the story.

  “Teachers are going batshit. Most of them think it’s a witch hunt,” Sadie said. “Oddly, mostly it’s the female teachers. They can’t say it outright, but they don’t believe the girls.”

  “This town is fucked up, Sadie. I’ve always told you that. Not that I can know exactly what occurred,” he said carefully.

  “I don’t know. I’ve always felt so safe here, but …” She handed him her phone and opened it to her text messages. The first one read pervy bitch, go kill yourself. They got worse the further down he scrolled.

  “Bullying is out of style now, you say?”
<
br />   “I guess I was wrong.”

  “How are they treating the girls who accused him?”

  “Most haven’t been back to school, I don’t think.”

  “Change your number,” he said. “I can do it for you. You shouldn’t have to read this. Nothing is your fault.”

  “I feel weird at home. I don’t feel safe. It feels safer here,” she said.

  Andrew nodded, though he was a bit taken aback that he couldn’t protect her from feeling this way at home. They watched as Kevin put the lawn mover into the shed. He stopped and pulled something out of his jeans.

  “What’s this guy’s deal? Uncle?”

  “Stepdad. Sort of.”

  “He’s a bit … young, or just looks it?”

  “A bit of both,” Sadie said as Kevin approached them and put a joint to his lips and sparked it.

  He held it out to Andrew. “Do you smoke?”

  “No, not usually,” he lied, “but all right, seems as good a time as any.”

  Andrew took the joint and inhaled. Then he looked at Sadie. “Shit, are you okay with this?” He pointed to the joint and then turned to exhale a long stream of smoke behind him.

  “Totally,” she said.

  “I’m having a hard time understanding you’re not twelve, and then I do something like smoke drugs in front of you.”

  “It’s not a big deal.”

  Sadie smiled and reached up to grab the joint. “Oh no, honey. You’re far too smart for this buzz, believe me,” Andrew said, handing it back to Kevin. “Don’t be sharing with her.”

  Kevin nodded in agreement and stubbed out the joint in an ashtray.

  When no one was looking, Sadie took the roach and slipped it in her pocket for later.

  Wednesday

  thirteen

  on wednesday, clara and Andrew went back to the city for the night, promising to return the following day. Joan and Sadie were alone in the house, and did what they hardly ever did on a weekday night: they put on sweatpants and ordered a pizza with pineapple and double cheese from Gino’s. Sadie had been scarce, and it seemed every time she was home there were threatening phone calls, reporters, or local teenagers harassing them from the road. There’d even been a rowboat of photographers at the dock before Clara ran at them with her own camera and a few choice words. Sadie had had to shut down all her social media accounts.

  Gino’s was the Woodburys’ usual pizza place.

  “What’s your address, ma’am?”

  “It’s Joan, you know, at 235 Lakeside.” She pulled a credit card out of her pocketbook and tapped it against the living room end table.

  “I’m new here, ma’am. Credit card number and name as it appears on the card?”

  She did as requested, spelling out her name.

  There was a long pause on the line. She waited almost a minute. There was no goodbye, just some ambient kitchen noise, a muffled receiver, and the sound of an older man’s voice. “Just hang up the fucking phone, Jake.” A shaky sound of a receiver and then a click. No pizza.

  She thought about calling back, about yelling into the receiver that she wasn’t a criminal, she was a loyal customer who always tipped handsomely. One time she had even given cpr to a man having a heart attack in their restaurant, and he’d lived, thanks to her. They had a clipping about it from the newspaper up on their wall. Still, she couldn’t have a pizza? Ungrateful! She unplugged the landline phone and sat on the couch, hugging a throw pillow to her chest.

  The house was pretty empty and quiet save for the purring of Payton, curled up on George’s pillow where he always slept whenever George was away. Sadie was upstairs studying. She’d told Joan earlier that she needed some alone time.

  She contemplated asking the neighbours if she could order a pizza from their house, but she hadn’t talked to them since George’s arrest. Instead, she made a pot of spaghetti with some pesto and brought up a bowl to Sadie, who was sitting on her bed in front of her laptop, chewing on her hair. She took the bowl of pasta and sat it down on top of a textbook.

  “Mom, come look at this,” she said, going over to the peaked attic window that looked out onto Lakeshore Drive.

  The reporters were still there. One sat on a lawn chair, hunched over a laptop. Sadie handed Joan the binoculars George used to use for birding.

  “Okay, now look,” she demanded.

  Joan peered through and saw a car speeding up to the gate. The reporters turned and took some photos. The car sped forward a bit and then stopped on the other side of the hedge on the far eastern side of their property. A bunch of teenagers got out and started climbing the fence.

  “Call the police, honey,” Joan said.

  “No, I know who it is. It will make things worse.”

  Once over the hedge, the kids hurled objects at the house, laughing drunkenly before ambling back over. Joan ran downstairs and saw that it was paper bags of dog poop and some broken beer bottles. Reporters clicked away as she picked up the mess, unable to stop herself from crying.

  When she came back in, Sadie was standing by the door fully dressed, a duffle bag over her shoulder.

  “I’m going to stay with Jimmy, Mom. I can’t handle it here. I’m worried. Maybe you should go to Clara’s?”

  “Honey, you need to be with family right now. We’re going to see your dad Friday afternoon.”

  “Mom, we’re not going to visit him at work. We’re going to prison.”

  “I am well aware of that, honey.”

  “Jimmy’s mom said I could crash there for as long as I want to.”

  “Did she? Without even talking to me first?”

  “She asked if she could, but I said you were probably going through enough.”

  “I’m still your parent. I’m still here for you. Nothing will change that.”

  “I know, I know.” Sadie shifted her weight impatiently, checking an incoming text message. “Jimmy is parked at the Coffee Hut and I’m going to row the boat over to the beach and return it. Is that okay?”

  “Of course that’s not okay. I’ll drive you to the Coffee Hut, for god’s sake.”

  “Mom, there are too many people out there. It’s too stressful.”

  “This is our house. We haven’t done anything wrong. Those people out there can just go to hell.”

  Joan’s cell rang and she picked it up without thinking. “I hope your husband gets the shit kicked out of him in jail. You had to have known. What kind of fucking idiot slut couldn’t have known?”

  “How did you get this number?” Joan demanded, but the person hung up.

  Joan grabbed her keys and they walked out to the Volvo. Sadie ran behind her, shielding her face with her hands as cameras clicked. Joan pressed down on the horn and turned on her bright lights as she drove up to the gate, clicking it open and leaving reporters to scramble to the side as she sped through. Sadie crouched down in the passenger seat.

  In the Coffee Hut parking lot, Joan turned off the ignition and touched her daughter’s shoulder.

  Joan wanted to explain that Sadie was too damn young to stay over with a boyfriend. That it was not acceptable. What would people say? “You’re so young, Sadie. You have a whole lifetime ahead of living with boys. People will talk …”

  “I think I’m the least controversial member of the family these days, Mom. Plus, I’m not living with him. It will be temporary.” Sadie opened the passenger door and got out, opening the back door of Jimmy’s car and throwing her duffle bag in before turning to wave.

  Joan waited until they were out of sight to cry.

  Thursday

  fourteen

  the next morning, Joan showed up at Jimmy’s house. Her hair was flattened on one side. She was wearing the old tattered University of Boston sweatshirt she normally reserved for Sunday mornings after church when she cleaned the house. She tried to fix her
hair and gave up, ringing Jimmy’s doorbell half hoping his mother wouldn’t be home.

  Elaine welcomed her into the house, offered her a cup of coffee.

  “Did you really say that my daughter could stay here? I’m not a huge fan of the idea,” Joan said, “but Sadie is very convinced it’s what she wants to do.”

  “I said she could, but only if you were okay with it.”

  “I don’t want her to be a burden,” Joan said, looking out the window. It was quieter in this neighbourhood, no reporters or vandals. It might be a good idea after all. “I could give you money for groceries and for the bills,” she said, feeling herself giving in.

  “She’s not a burden at all. I hardly notice her, and when I do, it’s nice to have another girl around, you know? You don’t have to worry about money, Joan. Really.”

  Joan raised her eyebrows. “She will have her own room?”

  “We’ve set her up in the guest room,” Elaine said, and then paused before leading Joan upstairs. Joan was relieved to see Sadie’s clothes there, folded on the lilac bureau, her track shoes lined up against the baseboards, her hair products fanned out on the top of the dresser, alongside some novels and school books.

  “And you will watch, to make sure, uh, they aren’t alone together at night?”

  Joan was one of those people who thinks sex only happens at night in bedrooms and clings to this rule.

  Elaine said, “Well, they’re seventeen. You know I can’t watch them constantly, right? We just have to make sure they both know … what they need to know.”

  sadie stood outside the guest room, eavesdropping on Elaine and her mother. What Joan didn’t know was that Elaine bought condoms in bulk at Costco and kept them underneath the sink in the bathroom. One time when Sadie was visiting, Elaine showed her around the house and opened up the cabinet to say there were tampons there and she could use them any time. The condoms were beside the tampons. “You can help yourself to absolutely everything,” she said, in case Sadie wasn’t getting the picture. “I don’t count … anything,” she said, picking up the box of Trojans and pretending to adjust them neatly.