by June Shaw
I grimaced. Hannah’s bare butt had been everywhere. No wonder that young man hadn’t been interested in emptying trashcans.
She continued. “The gym’s center circle. On tables in the teachers’ lounge.”
I pictured Deidre munching on food at one of those tables, and an utterance of disgust left my throat. I pointed to the stage. “And down there?”
“That was to be the next place. See that wooden circle in the middle? It would have been lovely.” Her heavier breathing filled the air surrounding us.
I kept my tone low. Tried to make it friendly. “You might have thought of yourselves as performers. Putting on your love scene for a filled house. You. Him. The spotlight.”
She faced me. “Cealie, I knew you were a romantic, too.”
I couldn’t punch her. The spirit stick was blocking her face. I reeled in my emotions and spoke calmly. “Grant only did a good job of cleaning the office. And Marisa’s room. You had him meet you here before your planned center-stage performance. And carrying that stick, you confronted him.”
Hannah’s face turned stormy. “He admitted he loved her.”
“Did she love him?” Marisa was about to lose my respect if she did.
“She didn’t know he existed. Except as a person, a man who kept her room clean.”
“And you knocked him down.”
“I caught him off guard, striking him with the stick. He tripped over his dust mop, so when his body tilted, I shoved.” Hannah’s mouth remained open, her vision seemingly far off. “Grant’s head hit the third chair, seventh row up.”
She breathed hard. And smiled at me. “You can see where his leg caught on the chair. That one.”
I pretended to glance down to where she pointed.
“His head cracked on the concrete. Must’ve been at the same place where I hit him.” Hannah smiled pleasantly. “They didn’t suspect anything but the fall. His back was cracked too, you know.”
My jaw clenched as I faced this person who’d once looked attractive. Now she personified evil. Considering the depravity that had built inside her made my brain numb. I became aware of the slightest sound and hoped it wasn’t urine dribbling to the floor. Hannah couldn’t witness all my fear. She had no idea of my inner trembling from just being up on this balcony.
I glanced at her shoes. Straps around the ankles, three-inch heels. My pumps had low heels. I could slip out of them. And if I could get past her, I could probably run much faster down those rear stairs. I slipped my hand into my purse and tried to open my phone and press a number in Memory but couldn’t.
Dip dip dip, the noise sounded. I watched fringes rise and fall.
Hannah knocked the stick against a chair behind us. “And now you know,” she said. “What a shame. You could have kept teaching for us, Cealie. You seem a bright person.”
Bright enough not to stand here and let you bludgeon me to death. Hannah could toss me down like she did her lover.
She slammed the heavy metal against a chair. Then using both hands, she swung the spirit stick up above my head.
If the person attacking me were a man, I’d know what was open to aim for.
Still I tried. My knee went up to Hannah’s groin. She twisted her hips. Groaned when I only kneed her thigh.
Raising both arms higher, she had the Cougar spirit stick coming down toward my head.
I reached out for what she’d exposed. With her arms up, Hannah’s breasts became huge targets. I grabbed her nipples and pinched.
“Ugggh!” she howled, her arms flinging down as she tried to protect body parts. But she didn’t release the stick. Its weight slammed against my shoulder. Pain shot through my arm, but I held on, squeezing tighter. Hannah screamed, and her throat made sadistic yowls. She writhed, her free hand shoving my arm. She hit against my back with the stick.
I felt welts rising. She cursed, squirmed, and thrust out her hips, trying to disengage me. I concentrated on pinching boobs. “I was right,” I said, fabricating a statement to taunt her. “They’re fake.”
Our faces were close to each other, and her huffing breaths felt hot. A grimace contorted her features. “You won’t get away!” she shrieked, striking me across the back, the end of her stick nipping my hip. My only consolation was that her blows would’ve been even harder if she wasn’t using one hand to try to pry my fingers loose. Hannah shoved my right hand away. “Ah,” she sighed.
I reached out and caught her boob again.
Hannah yowled, hunching her shoulders and coiling her torso. My knees hit the cement floor. She stood above me, and I covered my head with both hands. She struck my hands and part of my head. Dark spots sprinkled through my eyes. She could easily knock me out and then shove me over that rail. Crack my spine and neck. Pain shot from every spot on my body where she whacked. Thickening spots danced across my vision. Soon I’d black out.
I thought of not getting to see the babies Kat would have. And my family’s misery from having me die, especially since I’d so stupidly hastened my demise.
Hannah grasped her weapon with both hands. She raised the stick straight up above my head and cried, “You’re dead, bitch!”
With every remaining fiber of my strength, I stretched up and pinched tits. I squeezed so hard I could feel my fingertips against each other through Hannah’s skin. I pulled and twisted. She sounded like a wounded wild creature. Hannah toppled, coming toward the floor with me, slamming the stick down.
“No!” a male cried.
The voice of God? I was lying on my side, seeing the bottoms of chairs. Could I already be dead?
The stick’s fringes touched my shoulder. Aches let me know I still lived. Through widening dark circles, I saw Gil. He knocked the spirit stick away. It clattered against chairs. “Don’t lose that stick!” I cried. “It’s got blood stains.”
“So will this poor lady if you don’t let go of her. We were down in the hall and could hear her yelling.” Gil made his gentle chuckle. Obviously, he hadn’t seen her hit me. He placed his fingers inside mine to pry them apart, and my numb fingers came off Hannah’s bosom. She folded over, her fingers fluttering above her breasts. She didn’t touch them but scrunched over, whimpering like a small puppy.
My shoulders and scalp ached. Pounding came, probably from inside my head. Gil glanced toward the stairwell. “Police,” he explained. “I called them and said another murder was probably about to be committed here.”
“I could’ve beaten her without your help,” I said.
He kissed my forehead. I winced and tried to smile. “You came up on a balcony,” Gil said. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”
I didn’t even try for a grin.
Hannah cocked her head toward the sound of feet running up the stairwell. She hunched like a wicked witch, glaring at me, still protecting her chest.
“How’d you know this would happen?” I asked Gil.
“Cealie, I know you.” His eyes wore that sparkle I adored. Lines of kindness creased their outer edges.
God, I liked him. I rolled to my back, a cool floor beneath me, Gil’s face above. If he and I weren’t in this place—with this woman squirming with her nipples, and policemen scuttling toward us—and if my head wasn’t doing all this throbbing… No, I’d been sniffing his after-shave. I did enjoy its woody fragrance.
I put my hands out, and Gil helped me to my feet.
Dizziness struck, making my knees wobble. Gil wrapped an arm around me. “I knew that with your persistence, you’d find something. And someone. And that person would probably need protecting.” He peered at me with a slight smile until I stood steadier. Footsteps reached the landing. Changes in their sound let me know people in uniform were about to run in through the doorway.
“Bitch!” Hannah called to me. She’d hunched herself down to half my height. I wasn’t about to lower myself to trading names with a murderer. But mainly I couldn’t think of a better name to call her.
Male voices exchanged shouts, while my world busied itsel
f with painting spots into a solid circle. My mind picked out a few of Gil’s words: “Better read her her rights…a stick back there…”
“Oh,” I said, resuming some mind control, “and look in her closet. A nice suit has blood on it. Not hers.” People in uniforms held Hannah between them. “And by the way,” I said, leaning closer to her face, “cerise really isn’t your color.”
Hannah spat. I drew back, barely missing her spittle. I couldn’t stop myself. “Whore!”
She whipped toward me, but handcuffs stopped her from striking out. Hannah was only able to nudge her arms closer to her chest. Continued protection.
“Ouch,” Gil said, glancing at her departing figure.
I grinned. Things started swimming beneath my breastbone while Gil stood back, allowing me to walk out in front of him. The swirls in my chest swept up, reaching inside my head. My knees gave way, and I sank.
Gil caught me as I fell. “Too much excitement,” he said, laying me straight on the floor. He sat on a step beside me, and I heard someone phoning for an ambulance.
“I think,” I told Gil, “she might’ve hit me.”
Worry lines creased his face. “I didn’t see that happen. Oh, Cealie—”
“It’s not bad. I think here,” I said, indicating the rear of my head. Numbness had spread, but I pointed down. “Maybe bruised there.”
“Do you want me to check?” Gil touched my back much lower than where I’d felt pain.
My grin was weak. “Maybe some other time,” I said. After that, I knew nothing.
Chapter 25
I awoke in the ambulance. Again in the hospital. “Concussions come and go,” I told Kat when she came to visit. The child looked so distraught that I tried to amuse her. I knew she’d be frazzled. Her granny had been hurt. Her principal had murdered people.
Hannah would destroy the faith of all those high school students. While I drifted off again, I saw their faces. Roxy and Sledge and all the other kids. I wished I could’ve told them. The only person you can control is yourself. Most of them would learn it someday. But today’s teens were tough. From all they experienced in their young lives, I knew the kids at Sidmore High could handle what happened.
Kat was gone when I awoke later. Gil still sat near, stroking my arm. Having support people in your life is nice, I would tell all those teens, if I ever saw them again.
“Roger’s been coming in and out,” Gil said. “You have had one worried son.” Gil kissed my cheek. He placed a gentle hand where my shoulder hurt. “You have lots of black and blue marks, starting from here.”
I remembered that a doctor had told me so. I fought to keep Gil’s image, but my eyes scrambled him. “Hmm?”
“They’ll just watch you. So will I.”
“Good.” I let my head sink deeper into the pillow.
“They want to be certain of no internal damage. I think you’re one lucky little chicken,” I believe Gil told me while my eyelids fluttered him in and out of view. Chicken Boy’s image grew in his place. Chicken Boy waddled down the school’s dark stairwell. He saw a threatening woman wearing a bloody skirt. Without a second thought, he jumped up, landed on her head, and squashed her.
* * *
“We’re taking care of everything for the graduation tomorrow,” Roger told me when he came to visit. He was relieved to learn doctors had ruled out internal problems.
“Well, there may be some problems in here,” I said, tapping my head on the natural sienna. “But that’s nothing new.”
My son gave that warm genuine smile I recalled. Sometimes I’d envisioned it. How good to see his happiness start emerging. Kat was more content, he said, because Miss Hernandez had been cleared of all suspicions. She and Kat had been talking.
Later in the evening, the hospital released me, and Kat drove me to the condo. Roger needed to work late, but Gil came over, bringing Cajun food. In the hospital, Gil had massaged me with lotions, and whether they were medicinal or not, I’d enjoyed the rubdown. I’d held the front of my gown against my breasts when he’d once tried to rub down there. We had both laughed, and I hadn’t asked about his girlfriend. Didn’t need to be thinking about her.
“I brought enough plates and silverware,” Kat said at the condo. She’d also brought her fettuccini that I’d missed eating. Gil’s seafood-stuffed eggplants from the restaurant were still steaming. With salad and breads, we filled our red plastic dishes.
The three of us laughed and ate. When we finished, Kat said she’d clean up, but Gil nudged her. “No, let me wash the dishes like Cealie always does them.” The duo exchanged winks. Then Gil carried the plates, matching silverware, and cups to the trash can. He tossed everything.
I carried Minnie to the den to join us while we all sat to visit. I showed Kat my high school report card. She admired some grades and giggled at others. Roger arrived, and I had him and Gil get all the packages from my car. “Happy graduation,” I told Kat. “Open your gifts.”
She happily unwrapped one outfit after another. Summery clothes that she could wear to the Bahamas, other outfits for college. She opened a short set, and Roger raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that kind of skimpy?”
“She’s grown up,” I said. “Get over it.”
Roger laughed with us. Gil handed Kat a gift from him. The lovely card bore beautiful sentiments and enough cash to probably pay for her entire trip. Kat thanked us. She giggled at my last present. An Easy-Bake Oven.
Roger had already given Kat his gift, a fairly recent model Jeep that he was fixing up. I had asked him about letting me get her a new one, but he’d declined. I understood. After all the gifts had been opened, Roger spoke hesitantly. “I didn’t really get to see that game you all wanted to show me the other night. What was it?”
Kat set up the Twister. “This is an intriguing game,” Gil said. “Come on, Roger, try it.” Roger protested, but soon all four of us were tying our legs about each other’s. We walked our hands backwards. Kat started chuckling first, or maybe I did, as she later proclaimed. Anyway, we fell down, Gil first. Me next. Roger and Kat stayed up, both saying they were the winner. We all were, I thought. Everyone was smiling.
I felt dizzy when I lowered my head. My shoulder still ached. My visitors left, saying I needed rest. They were right. I slept hard through the night and most of the next morning.
Graduation day had arrived.
* * *
In the evening I was walking out the condo door with Roger when “The Mexican Hat Dance” played. I kicked my feet a little and answered my cell phone.
“Well?” a young male’s voice said.
“Who is this?” I asked.
“You don’t recognize my voice? I thought you’d know it real good by now.”
“Chicken Boy!”
He mumbled about being bored. “And you come up with fun stuff to do and all.”
Ah, he needed someplace to go. I had Roger make a call to locate an extra ticket, and then we picked up Chicken Boy, who told us his real name was Derek Owens. He looked handsome in dressy casuals, and his face didn’t appear quite so lean with his recent shorter haircut. He rode in the back seat of the Mustang beside Marisa Hernandez, whom Roger had just met. I noticed Roger’s smile. As time progressed, his smile widened.
In Sidmore High’s parking lot, Roger wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Are you okay, Mom? Do you want to leave?”
“No-o.” I clasped a hand over my mouth. Took deep breaths. “I’m all right.”
Gil pulled up next to our car, and then he and Roger walked on either side of me. The long brick building appeared more ominous in the dark. I glanced away, at all the people talking as they headed for the well-lit doors.
I didn’t look up at the cougar while we walked inside. Pulsing in my head brought renewed aches. Gil touched the small of my back. I hadn’t realized I’d stopped walking. I unglued my feet and trudged on. Gil peered at me often, studying my reactions. Seeing if I needed to get out. I prayed I wouldn’t.
Vi
ce-Principal Anne Little had reserved seats for us on the right side of the auditorium, close to the stage. She sat onstage now, in the chair beside the podium. I was grateful for the lights flooding the auditorium. Instead of silence, I found people creating happy noises. “I’m fine,” I said to Gil’s brooding face when we reached our row. He sat beside me. Derek took the next seat. Marisa sat, and then Roger.
Gil rubbed my arm. With closed lips, I tried to smile at him. No use.
Marisa looked especially pretty in her amber suit. She could have sat with other teachers but I had invited her, and she’d chosen to come with us. I understood why Kat liked her so much. She had told Kat she’d avoided her at school lately because she had somehow become suspect in Grant Labruzzo’s murder and didn’t want Kat to get hurt. Today we learned Hannah had fueled that rumor about Marisa. I’d also discovered Tom Reynolds had been ill for days during the time I saw him in that warehouse church. He’d been pale and often needed to dash out of a room to reach a restroom in time, as he’d probably done when I saw him disappear from Grant’s church.
Roger fidgeted with his tie, looking insecure seated beside Marisa. While she’d ridden in the back seat with Derek, she had chatted with the boy about school. We discovered Derek had dropped out in twelfth grade but now wished he’d finished. Marisa offered to help him do that. Now she was speaking to Roger. A hint of pink colored Roger’s cheeks.
Gil touched my arm. “You said you don’t try to control situations,” he said, nodding toward Roger and Marisa, “and you didn’t have a hand in trying to start something here?”
I smiled. “They are a cute couple, aren’t they?”
I heard Roger’s laugh. Gil made small rubbing motions on my arm. “Hey,” Derek said, leaning across Gil to speak to me. “You promised me some fun tonight.” His face grew more pointed with his frown.
“Listen,” I said, hearing the first strains of music. “Here it is!”
Strings of seniors held their heads erect as they entered through every rear doorway. Kat came in fifth, in her lagoon blue gown and cap, the gold ribbon of an honor graduate draped across her chest.