Murder at the PTA

by Lee Hollis

  Vanessa took a glass down from the cupboard and poured from the pitcher. “You look stressed, Mom.”

  “No, I’m not,” Maya lied.

  Vanessa sat down next to her mother with her glass of water and eyed the budget on Maya’s phone app.

  “Yikes, that’s not good. Two hundred and seventy-six dollars short?”

  “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  “I can help out more, you know.”

  “Yes, I know. You’re a very capable young woman, and I’m immensely proud of you. But you need to focus on school. I don’t want you working for me all the time. God forbid your grades start to slip and then you don’t get into a good college.”

  “Wow, talk about going from zero to sixty. Suddenly I’ve been rejected by all the Ivy League colleges?”

  “I’m just saying I’m the adult here. It’s my responsibility to keep a roof over our heads, and it’s your job to enjoy your high school years and prepare for college without having to worry about the electric bill.”

  “But winter’s on the way, and you know we don’t have a wood burner, so that bill is going to like triple what it is now by December.”

  “Again, not your problem.”

  “I can work and still get good grades. I’ll just drop out of the fall musical.”

  “I didn’t know you were even auditioning for the fall musical,” Maya said, sitting up in her chair, surprised.

  Vanessa nodded, slightly embarrassed. “Some girls dared me after they heard me singing in the locker room shower. I kind of did it on a lark. I honestly didn’t expect anything to come of it, but the theater director, Ms. Callis, says I’ll get something.”

  “Well, that’s great.”

  Vanessa shrugged. “It probably won’t be a big part, maybe the chorus. It’s no big deal. I don’t have to do it.”

  “You’re not bowing out. We’ll be fine.”

  Maya noticed her daughter’s skeptical look. She took Vanessa’s hand and squeezed it. “Really. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Vanessa said.

  Maya could tell her daughter was relieved because this was something she really wanted to do despite her lackadaisical attitude that she was showing off to her mom.

  Vanessa’s phone buzzed, and she excitedly peered at the screen. A smile crept across her lips as she frantically typed a reply.

  “Who is that? Lucy?”

  Vanessa shook her head.

  “Emily?”

  “Nope.”

  Studying her daughter’s euphoric face, the answer finally came to her. “A boy?”

  This time she got no reaction, which was basically a confirmation.

  “What’s his name?” Maya sighed.

  Vanessa finished sending her text and stuffed the phone into her back pocket. “I’m not ready to tell you.”

  “What do you mean you’re not ready? I’m your mother.”

  “There’s no way I’m telling you his name yet. I know you. You’ll go all private eye on me and do this huge extensive background check on him and everybody he knows, and pretty soon you’ll know more about him than I do at this point.”

  “I’d like to deny I would do something like that, but you’re probably right. Okay, you don’t have to tell me . . . yet. But if it gets serious, we need to talk about it.”

  “We’re not having sex, Mom,” Vanessa said matter-of-factly.

  Maya sighed with relief. “Good. But if it progresses to the point where you’re thinking about it, we need to have the talk.”

  “We’ve already had the talk,” Vanessa said, rolling her eyes.

  “We have?”

  “Yes, like three times.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, I pretty much know everything, and what I don’t know, I can find on the internet.”

  “I’m happy you haven’t gone all the way, but can you at least tell me how far you have gone? Kissing? Heavy petting?”

  “I’m not doing this,” Vanessa cried as she jumped up from the table and bolted out of the room.

  Maya couldn’t help it. Her mind was racing. Who was he? Did she know him or his family? If she knew just his name, she could easily google him. Maybe she could swipe Vanessa’s phone when she was asleep and find out some information from all their back-and-forth texts.

  No, Maya said to herself. She couldn’t do that, as much as she really wanted to, because she had to trust her daughter. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t hazard a few guesses as to the identity of this mystery boy. It was a hell of a lot more interesting than worrying about her monthly budget.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Sandra knew everyone in the stands was watching them. It was her first public appearance with her husband since the tawdry scandal about Stephen had been blasted across the Dirty Laundry website. They sat about halfway up the bleachers, smack-dab in the middle, where she felt trapped and claustrophobic, but she had to keep smiling.

  For the sake of her family.

  Stephen was right.

  It was best for them to present a united front and not let anyone believe that what the site was saying had any serious effect on them.

  Stephen had his arm draped around Sandra’s shoulder, and whenever one of his constituents stopped to say hello, he’d gently pull her in closer to him in an effort to prove they were just as happy and loving as they had always been.

  It struck Sandra as insincere and quite frankly artificial, but she knew it was vitally important for Stephen to act as if nothing was wrong.

  She couldn’t help but wonder if his trip up from Washington, DC, was more about damage control than about missing his family. She hated herself for making judgments about her husband and his motives. However, she had spent years playing the role of the loyal politician’s wife, always upbeat and smiling, but underneath the surface she had become hardened and jaded to that unattainable public image.

  Everyone in the bleachers jumped up and cheered as the home team wrested control of the ball. It was the fourth quarter. They were behind by seven points now after the opposing team had taken advantage of a fumble and scored an unexpected touchdown. The pressure was on for a win, since they had lost the last two games. Sandra couldn’t imagine what was going on in her son Jack’s head. He was the first-string quarterback. The team’s fortunes seemed to rise and fall on his shoulders. She watched him conferring with his team and Coach Cooper in a huddle.

  There were just a few seconds left on the clock.

  Stephen clapped his hands and shouted, “Come on, boys, you can do it! Woo-hoo!”

  Sandra looked at him. Was he showing off for the crowd, trying to be the engaged, supportive father who came to every game to cheer his oldest son on, even though this was the first one he had attended all season?

  She scolded herself for being so cynical.

  She noticed Ryan sitting on the opposite side of Stephen. He appeared distracted, staring over at the left side of the bleachers, down a few rows. Sandra followed his gaze but couldn’t see what he found so interesting. She did notice a statuesque woman with beautiful brown skin and gorgeous curly black hair sitting with a pregnant friend and a very pretty young girl, probably fifteen or sixteen, who bore a striking resemblance to the tall woman and was probably her daughter. Sandra stared at the gorgeous, confident woman. She looked so familiar. Had they gone to high school together? Before she could place her, the team broke from their huddle and was back on the field.

  She leaned across Stephen and spoke to Ryan. “What are you looking at so intently?”

  Embarrassed, Ryan just shrugged. “Nothing.”

  He quickly averted his eyes back to the game.

  Stephen continued shouting words of encouragement to the team, clapping his hands.

  Sandra stood up with the rest of the football fans in the bleachers as the cheerleaders, a mix of boys and girls, finished up a rallying cry complete with cartwheels.

  She felt a wave of sadness when she noticed Joel Metcalf wasn’t down in the front
row on the end like he usually was. He never missed a game, but of course didn’t make it today given his son’s situation.

  The clock resumed, counting down the last few seconds, and the center lineman bent over and snapped the ball to Jack, who grabbed it and backed up to pass to the wide receiver as the offensive line kept the opposing players at bay. The receiver was wide-open, arms outstretched, and all Jack had to do was throw the ball, but he just stood there, stunned for a moment before slamming the ball to the ground and leaping on top of a player who had broken through the defense.

  They punched and kicked each other, rolling around on the field as the rest of the players from both teams piled on, shouting and fighting. The referee blew his whistle, and the coaches sprinted out onto the field to break up the brawl.

  Once the boys were dragged off each other and escorted back to their respective sides of the field, the red-faced referee officially ejected Jack from the game to a cacophony of boos from the irate home crowd, who, despite what they had seen with their own eyes, believed the fight was the fault of the visiting team and certainly not theirs.

  Stephen yelled at the referee, who appeared slightly shaken when he looked to the crowd and spotted a U.S. senator berating him. Sandra watched as Jack stalked off the field, yanked his helmet from his head, and hurled it to the ground, where he promptly kicked it with his cleat. The helmet sailed through the air, nearly beaning a male cheerleader who had to duck out of the way.

  The game resumed and the opposing team, which now had possession of the ball, managed to run out the clock and won the game by seven points. As Sandra glared at her benched son, who sat alone in his grass-stained football uniform, his head buried in his hands, she was sure of one thing. He had started that fight for some reason, and it had cost his team the game.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “I would like for you to explain to me why I shouldn’t bounce you off the team for the remainder of the season,” Principal Hicks said, sitting behind his desk with his arms folded, a stern look on his face.

  Jack, sitting in a chair opposite him, stared down at his Nike Air Force sneakers and just shrugged.

  “Principal Hicks asked you a question, Jack.” Sandra sighed, nudging her son’s arm.

  “I don’t know,” he muttered, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor.

  Sandra had warned her son that it was in his best interest to apologize for starting the brawl that had led to his ejection from the game and just take his punishment like a man. Jack had spent the Saturday evening after the game and all day Sunday pouting in his room. And now, Monday morning in the principal’s office, he was still acting remote and uncommunicative.

  Sandra gave Principal Hicks an apologetic look, not sure what was wrong with her usually socially adept and carefree son.

  Hicks unfolded his arms and slapped his hands down on his desk. “Okay, if you are not going to help me out here, I’m just going to have to make a decision on my own.”

  There was a knock at the door.

  Hicks, annoyed, called out. “Yes?”

  The door opened, and Coach Vinnie Cooper popped his head into the office. “Sorry to interrupt. I was hoping you might let me say a few words.”

  “By all means, Coach, come in,” Hicks said, waving him in. “I would love it if you could offer us a little insight as to what happened on Saturday.”

  “As a matter of fact, I can,” Coach Cooper said, slipping in and closing the door behind him. “Morning, Mrs. Wallage.”

  “Good morning, Coach,” Sandra said, smiling.

  Coach Cooper stepped around to the other side of Jack, who still sat slumped over in his chair, a sullen look on his face. “Jack . . .”

  “Coach . . . ,” Jack mumbled, wishing he was anywhere else.

  Sandra could not believe her son was acting like this. It was so out of character, and she couldn’t imagine what was bothering him so much that he would pick a fight during a football game.

  She didn’t have to wait long to get her answer.

  Coach Cooper cleared his throat. “I spoke to some of Jack’s teammates yesterday, and they told me that the linebacker from Yarmouth who Jack went after on the field had made a crack about Kevin Metcalf. . . .”

  There was a long pause.

  Hicks leaned forward. “Is that true, Jack?”

  Jack didn’t respond at first. He just shifted in his seat uncomfortably and then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

  Sandra touched his arm. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  Jack just offered another obstinate shrug.

  But Sandra was not about to drop the matter. “Jack . . . ?”

  Realizing he was outnumbered by three adults now, Jack knew he couldn’t avoid participating in the interrogation any longer and huffed, “I just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, okay?”

  “Apparently the kid was making fun of Kevin’s recent struggles with addiction. Jack was just defending his teammate,” Coach Cooper said, reaching down and squeezing Jack’s shoulder in a show of support.

  Sandra never thought she could love her sons any more than she already did, but in this moment, with this revelation, her heart swelled a tiny bit more. But she knew her feelings were not going to get him off the hook with the high school principal. She wanted to hug him and tell him how proud she was of him for sticking up for his friend, but she refrained and kept her tough-disciplinarian-mother face on in order to show a united front with Principal Hicks.

  At least until they were safely out of the office.

  “So I was thinking detention for a week, a letter of apology to the Yarmouth player, and he’s back on the field for Saturday’s away game at Thornton Academy,” Coach Cooper said, in an attempt to curb what he feared might be a harsher punishment.

  Hicks considered the proposal and then outright rejected it. “I have a zero-tolerance policy for violence no matter what the reason.”

  Coach Cooper stepped forward. “I understand that, John, but—”

  Hicks stopped him in his tracks. “I’m not going to cut Jack some slack just because he’s your star player. That wouldn’t be fair to my other students. One-week suspension, a letter of apology, and he’s benched for the next three games.”

  Coach Cooper opened his mouth to argue, but Sandra cut him off. “I think that’s absolutely fair. Don’t you, Jack?”

  Another sullen shrug from the peanut gallery.

  Coach Cooper frowned. He had obviously been prepared to put up more of a fight, but there was no way he could win with the kid’s mother taking the principal’s side, so he just gave up and retreated from the office after a cursory nod.

  “Thank you,” Sandra said, standing up and shaking Hicks’s hand.

  “I’ll see you at the next PTA meeting, Sandra,” Hicks said, circling around his desk to show them to the door. “Try to keep that temper in check, okay, Jack?”

  Jack never made eye contact. He gave the principal a half wave and scooted out the door ahead of his mother. She gave Hicks another apologetic smile and then raced to catch up with him.

  After Hicks closed the door to his office, Sandra turned and ran smack into Maisie Portman, the assistant principal. Sandra hadn’t seen her since the night of the PTA meeting when she saw Maisie squabbling with that mysterious woman in the high school parking lot.

  “How did it go?” Maisie asked, tied up in knots. “Hicks has been on such a law-and-order kick lately I was afraid Jack might get expelled.”

  “Not too bad. One-week suspension and a three-game ban,” Sandra said, relieved.

  “Three games? That’s outrageous! The team needs Jack if we’re going to have any chance at a state championship trophy! Would you like me to talk to him? Maybe I can work on him to get a reduced sentence.”

  “I appreciate it, Maisie, but honestly, Jack needs this punishment. What he did was wrong, and if we let it slide, he might develop some kind of hotshot attitude where he starts to think he’s above the rules,” Sandra said.
/>
  “You’re a hell of a lot better mother than I ever would be,” Maisie said, laughing.

  “Oh, come on, I think you’d be great.”

  “That’s because you barely know me. My mother had to do an intervention to rescue my houseplants because I kept forgetting to water them,” Maisie said.

  “I guess I’ll have to find another home for that Chinese elm bonsai tree I was going to give you for your next birthday!”

  Maisie howled. “Only if it comes in plastic. See you at the next PTA meeting!”

  “Will do! I better go find my son before he tackles somebody else!” Sandra called out as she scurried off down the hall. She caught up with Jack, who was at his locker, cleaning it out and throwing his books and supplies into a backpack.

  “Just because you’re going to be home this week, don’t think it’s a school vacation where you can play video games and watch movies on your iPad,” Sandra warned.

  “I know . . . ,” Jack groaned.

  “And there will be physical labor involved as well. The lawn is in desperate need of a mowing and the hedges could use a trim.”

  “If Dad was here . . .”

  “If Dad was here what?”

  “Nothing,” Jack whispered, slamming his locker shut.

  “No, tell me, Jack, what?”

  Jack turned to face her. “If Dad was here, he would go a whole lot easier on me.”

  Sandra pursed her lips. She had expected this kind of reaction. Stephen was always the good cop, and she was always the bad cop. They had grown comfortable in their respective parental roles, but that didn’t make her job any easier. “You’re right. He probably would. But he’s not here. He took the red eye back to DC last night, and he no longer has a say, so I’m afraid you’re stuck with me. Got it?”

  Jack slung the backpack over his shoulder and moodily stared at the floor. “Yeah . . .”

  “Good,” Sandra said. “One more thing.”

  Jack sighed dramatically. “What?”

  “I don’t necessarily approve of your methods, but I’m awfully proud of you for standing up for Kevin.”

  She gave him a peck on the check.

  At first he was mortified and spun his head around to make sure none of his peers had seen him get a kiss from his mother. But luckily the halls were empty with the whole student body safely tucked away in the classrooms, so he didn’t have to make a full-blown scene.