We all came skidding to a halt at the corner of the main hallway and the administration hallway. Mrs. Nash’s office was right at the crossroads of the two.
I got down low to the ground, practically lying down on my stomach, with my camera lens peaking around the corner. Macy ran across to the other side and hid there, ready to capture every image possible of the upcoming showdown. And Ashley, to my surprise, walked right over to Mrs. Nash’s office, looked in the window quickly, then moved to the lockers directly across from the door.
There was one locker without a lock. It had been empty ever since one of the miners had moved away in search of work and took their sixteen-year-old daughter with them before Thanksgiving. Ashley opened the locker door and set her bag inside, and just waited.
The front doors banged open and the sound of many footfalls approached. We all brought our cameras up and as soon as Sheriff came into view, we started snapping away.
There were ten police accompanying the Sheriff. I was amazed at how many people they had come to arrest one woman. When they reached Mrs. Nash’s door, the Sheriff banged on it three times. Each one was captured by at least one of our three cameras because I heard the shutter click each time. I was really surprised that no one else did.
“Go away, I’m busy, you will need to make an appointment,” Mrs. Nash called out from behind her door.
“Open this door right now, Mrs. Nash. I have a warrant for your arrest. If you do not come out I will be forced to come in.”
“Do what you must but I will not come out!” The Sheriff sighed and took a step back. With one kick, the door was open, and the doorknob was dangling from where it used to be.
“Mrs. Nash, you are under arrest for…” I stopped listening and just kept my camera to my eye. I needed to focus and if I listened to what they were saying for one minute, I would be pulled out of my zone. I took as many pictures as I could from where I was sitting. I just hoped the other two were having more luck than I was at getting a good shot.
“Vi, you can come out now. You too, Macy, Ashley.” Shit. We had been spotted.
“Sorry,” we all said in unison.
“What kind of Sheriff would I be if I didn’t know you were there? Go get Mr. Bennett for me, please.” We all nodded and turned to head back to the cafeteria. I quickly turned around, while walking backwards, so I still was technically listening to what I was told, and snapped off a few more photos. Mrs. Nash was staring at me as if I was the Devil himself.
When we got to the cafeteria, the whole student body, and faculty was pressed against the glass wall, desperately looking for the arrival of the police. They had no idea that they were already there and doing what they came for, that their principal was a drug dealer.
I opened the glass door and a million voices began asking what was going on, what we had seen. I tried to ignore them all until I could spot Mr. Bennett.
“You are needed in the Principal’s office,” I said, leaning up to sorta whisper, sorta yell in his ear so he could hear me over the roar of the students, but still not yell loud enough for anyone else to hear.
“The principal?” His question wasn’t about the location he was supposed to go to, but about who the police were there to arrest.
“Yup. Apparently for years. Come on, we have to get back.”
“We?” he asked.
“Well, they told us to get you, they never said we couldn’t come back with you. Please?” I looked up at him with what my father calls puppy dog eyes, the ones that are too hard to say no to.
“Fine. But if anyone asks you to leave, you do so.” Mr. Bennett led the way out of the cafeteria and down the hall. When we rounded the corner, I pulled my camera back up just in time to catch a few photos of a police officer putting the handcuffs on Mrs. Nash, and walking her out of the building.
“Mr. Bennett, here is a list of every student we need brought into the office. Their parents have already been notified and they will be meeting us at the station.” The Sheriff handed over a piece of paper and of course, I took a picture. I tried to take a picture of the actual paper, but the Sheriff covered it with his hand, something about minors being protected by law.
Surprisingly, the Sheriff didn’t make the three of us put down our cameras. He allowed us to follow everyone around, taking pictures of anything we wanted. Mr. Bennett pulled each boy one by one out of class. A police officer was there waiting with handcuffs and all but one of them refused to give up their innocence.
The one boy who apologized, who begged for another chance, who actually started to cry when the cold steel of the handcuffs clicked shut around his wrists was Brock.
“Please, Sherriff! I swear, I won’t ever do it again. I cannot have this on my record. I just can’t! What about my acceptance to Michigan?” His body was shaking and I could see the layer of sweat against his forehead. The few stray tears that managed to escape rolled down his cheeks until he wiped them away against his shoulder.
Each boy was walked out of the building and all classes had ceased. Everyone was pressed against whatever window or doorway, to catch any glimpse of the biggest scandal that Willowspring had ever seen.
Jason was the last one pulled from class. It may make me a horrible news reporter or photojournalist, or whatever, but I put my camera down. Ashley and Macy followed my lead. I may have been a bad journalist in that moment, but I was a good sister.
“Don’t worry, girls. It is almost over. Vi, your brother made a deal earlier but we still need to bring him in. All that is left is for you to get an A on your assignment. If you don’t that is insane, and you can tell Mr. Bennett I said so, because you three girls have gone through more than any student ever has for a project. Testifying in court, which by the way, your pictures will help tell the true story of what happened here.”
The Sheriff shook all of our hands and left. We looked to Mr. Bennett, wondering what happened next. He stood and looked around the halls at all the open classroom doors and faces of students and teachers alike watching us. He nodded his head for us to follow and we went into Mrs. Nash’s office. At least, what had been her office just an hour before.
“I am going to call the school board and find out what they want us to do for today, you girls should hang out in here for a while until everything settles down. I’m not sure you should say anything to anyone yet.” He sat behind Mrs. Nash’s desk and began flipping through her Rolodex.
“Where have I heard that before?” I said and the three of us just laughed.
TWO MONTHS LATER I sat in a dark courtroom, the only light coming from the large screen displaying, Macy’s, Ashley’s and my images. One after another flicked through the longest two weeks of my life. The jury sat in silence as they viewed the pictures, some stared at just the screens, others tried to match the boys who sat in the first row behind the defense table with the ones being displayed.
The prosecutor, Mr. Devaul, had asked for my testimony the day before and Ashley spoke right after me. Macy had testified the morning before. Most of the boys had cracked, and began to plead for a lighter sentence, and some were getting just that.
Jason had been given a sealed record and community service for coming clean early, and helping the Sheriff to stop the drugs from coming into and out of Willowspring. After a few weeks, Mrs. Nash still hadn’t spoken to anyone. The only reason the Sheriff found out how long she had been getting teenagers to sell for her was because at least one if not more of the alumni hockey teams had come forward. Eight years of alumni.
When the last of the images flooded the screen, handcuffs, cop cars filled with teenagers, and one very angry old woman staring into the camera as if she wanted to melt it with her mind --which she probably did-- the screen went dark and the lights flicked back on.
The Prosecutor stood and approached the jury. He began to tell a tale of a wholesome town built on hard work and loving families and high morals. He brought in the increasing number of thefts and young adults who tested positive for drugs
or alcohol at school events or car accidents that had happened over the years that had been linked to the driver being under the influence.
Many of those things could have been prevented if one woman hadn’t convinced the hockey teams to sell drugs, if she hadn’t brought them into Willowspring. Promising the boys that they would be able to pay for college all on their own if they did it, and telling them if they didn’t they would never be able to go to college, because their poor parents couldn’t afford it. She preyed on their hopes and dreams to better their lives and that was unacceptable. The students were not innocent either, mind you.
They knew what they were doing was wrong. Not only selling, but tormenting three teenage girls was despicable and every act was under the direction of the very principal put in place to protect each and every student. Then, he rested his case.
He returned to his side of the table, adjusting his suit jacket before sitting back down. The judge gave the floor to the defense attorney, who approached the jury with a much different tactic. One I was expecting, but still angered me to no end.
“How can we take the photos of three teenage girls as evidence? In this day and age, photo manipulation is easy to anyone tech savvy and you heard Vivienne herself say she has been studying all aspects of photography for as long as she could remember. The confession that was the catalyst to the case came from her brother. Who has the most to gain here? Vivienne McCall, she will sell the images, make enough money to go to college and never look back. Do not trust what you have heard. There may have been a small amount of drugs found in Mrs. Nash’s home, but that does not prove anything but personal use.”
The female attorney turned from the jury to walk back to her table and a long line of clients, but didn’t sit until she smirked at me. I felt my fingernails begin to dig into my palms before Ashley pushed her arm through one arm crook and Macy did the other.
It didn’t matter what she said. We were honest, we helped how we could, and we were the ones tormented. Our belongings destroyed. Not hers and not the stupid hockey team who did it.
The court adjourned to allow the jury to makes its decision. Exiting the courtroom into the foyer was a relief. The air inside had been stuffy and the anger building up within me needed some time to cool off.
“Can you believe the nerve of her?” Ashley asked as we walked over to the water fountain and restrooms.
“Mr. Devaul said she would place the blame anywhere but on her clients. Trying to create reasonable doubt and all that,” I said with a hand wave. I was trying to be nonchalant about it, but Ashley was right on the money, I was irritated.
“He did. But at least, not one of the jurors bought it. Come on, how could they? They were all looking at her like she was the old gum stuck to the bottom of their fanciest shoes.” The bathroom filled with our giggles.
“Knock, knock.” My Dad’s voice echoed into the girls’ bathroom. He had knocked on the door as well as open it just a crack to verbally knock. It was odd, but that’s just what he has always done when going into any room he had to knock for. “The jury is already back.”
“Thanks, Dad! Be right there!” I called. We all washed our hands and headed back to the courtroom.
The judge banged his gavel, calling the room to order. “Madame Foreman, have you as a jury reached a unanimous verdict in the case of Mrs. Madeline Nash?”
“We have your honor,” An older woman who looked like she could be Marge Simpson’s grandmother said. She had a blue-gray hair color and a super scratchy voice.
“What say you?” The judge asked.
“We find the defendant guilty on all counts.”
“In the case of Brock Leaton, how do you find?”
“We find the defendant guilty.”
They went through each name, one by one, until the entire hockey team had been found guilty. There were parents weeping and others cursing. I expected to feel happy or relieved or something, because it was officially one hundred percent over, but all I felt was sad. Sad for the parents, sad for the kids who threw their lives away, and sad that I had to be the one to provide the evidence because I knew I would forever have a handful of people who hated me.
Every one of them was led out of the courtroom through the little door behind the judges’ stand. People started to file out of the room, when a hand landed angrily on my shoulder.
“This is all your fault. Why couldn’t you have kept your stupid mouth shut?” It was Brock’s younger brother. He was going to start at Willowspring High the following school year, and he had hoped to follow in his brother’s footsteps. Now, he was ashamed to admit who his brother was.
“Johnny, I’m sorry you have to deal with this, but it wasn’t my fault.” I moved his hand off my shoulder and walked out with my best friends.
Outside the courthouse was a madhouse. We had to drive into Layton since Willowspring didn’t have its own courthouse. The city was more than twice the size of our little town and it seemed that everyone had come out that day to wait on the court steps to find out what happened in the case of the Willowspring Drug Ring, as the news had been calling it.
There were news reporters, cameras, and microphones on long sticks everywhere. When we were spotted walking down the steps, at least ten different reporters converged on us.
“Vivienne! Macy! Ashley! Over here! What does it feel like to be so young and bring down a drug ring that has been going on under everyone’s nose for the last eight years?”
“How old are you girls and do you plan on continuing in the crime fighting field?”
“What do you have to say to the families of the boys who are being sent away?”
The questions were coming from all sides, and I didn’t know who to answer or what to say. Thankfully, I didn’t have to. Ashley did it for me.
“We were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and we found ourselves in a jacked-up situation. Yes, the photos we took ended up helping, and that is amazing, but all three of us lost many things throughout the ordeal, including our college application pieces, a truck, and a lot of our junior year. That’s all, thanks!”
Ashley spoke her mind, and then waved cheerily to the crowd, and Dad helped us get through the mass of people. The defense attorney came out of the building next, and the reporters decided she would be more fun to talk to and ran after her.
Down on the sidewalk, we passed the NEWS10 van. They were the biggest and most well-known news station in a fifty-mile radius. The door on the van popped open and a tall redhead jumped out.
“Vi! Macy! Can I speak with you for a moment?”
“We aren’t answering any questions, sorry,” I said and tried to keep going, but the redhead ran after us.
“No, no, no, I don’t want to ask anything of you, I wanted to give you something.” She handed us her card and some papers. Looking at the top of them, it said SUMMER INTERNSHIP. My mouth dropped open and I looked at Macy, then back to her.
“Are you kidding?”
“No, you ladies show serious talent. I was only able to see a few of the photos you took, but what I saw was pure raw talent. I would love to offer you both summer internships before your senior year. It would be great on college applications. Ashley, I have a call in for you at the Museum of Modern Art. I hope that works for you. I gathered from your testimony that photography isn’t your passion.”
“No, Ma’am, it isn’t. Thank you so much, but why are you doing this for us?” Ashley asked, looking between Macy, the woman, and me.
“Good question and I will give you an honest answer. I want Vi and Macy to work for me, and I knew that if I didn’t help you out as well, there was a greater chance of being turned down.” I couldn’t help but laugh at her blunt honesty.
“Who are you anyway, our fairy godmother?” I asked. She laughed and shook her head.
“No, no, no. Although, a magic wand would come in handy at times. No, my name is Jenna Melborne.” My jaw dropped. I knew that name. I had known that name for years. Why didn’t I r
ecognize her?
“Jenna Melborne? The photojournalist who has photographed the last two wars, the President of the United States, and the top five artists of the year all in the last ten years? Not to mention, keeping up with three news stations? I didn’t know you had stopped doing freelance and signed on with a single news station!”
“The one and only. I did sign on with one station, but not as a photographer, as the head of the department. After twenty years in the field, I am more than ready to guide the next generation of photographers, and actually have roots somewhere. But, that is beside the point. Look over the forms, have your parents sign them, and get back to me. My number is on there.” She pointed to the bottom of the form, shook our hands, and climbed back into her van.
The three of us walked off towards our parents’ cars, kind of dumbfounded. I mean, in two seconds our futures went from “who knows” to photojournalist for a major news station.
“Did that just happen?” I asked as we reached the parking lot.
Macy opened the door to her family’s car, and looked back at Ash and I, “I think it really just did. Guess the saying is true.”
“What saying?” Ashley asked, linking her arm through mine.
“Every dark cloud has a silver lining.” Macy climbed in and closed the door, waving through the window. Watching her car pull away, I couldn’t help but agree with her. Even with everything that happened, there was good that came out of it, too. I had a new best friend, my brother wasn’t a drug dealer, and a killer opportunity to make my future amazing.
Keep reading for a sneak peek into
LIFE ON LOAN
a YA contemporary novel
by Adrianne James
CHAPTER 1
THE CRISP OCTOBER WIND nipped at my skin as Dani and I walked along the cobblestone street and past red brick buildings that colored all of historic Dover, Delaware, to the little cafe we frequented. It was a rather busy local hot spot, making it the perfect place to eat. Taking a left before the entrance, we followed the small alley to the back of the building.
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