by Jane Charles
And I’m a fucking fool because I’m hoping there’s an explanation that I can accept.
I deserve to get kicked in the balls again. This time for real.
By the time the bell rings for the last class, I’ve learned a lot and nothing.
Some of my students leave to go to their final class while the journalists remain and a few others trickle in. Tara agreed to return, in case more questions are asked and kids want to report on what they think happened. But, instead of Tara, Jenna enters with Ellen on her heels.
She’s still here? Why doesn’t she go to another class? Ballet would interest her, or the music or theatre department. I’m pretty sure nobody is talking to her so this day has probably been boring as hell.
They take a seat at the back of the class and I hope these kids don’t say anything Ellen will consider worthy enough to write about.
I go around to the front of my desk and lean back against it before picking up the memo that’d been left in my mailbox off of my desk. These kids get the news before anyone else in the school. And, if they leak what is to be reported before the paper goes to press, and before it’s been thoroughly researched, they lose their spot in the class. It’s the first rule I implemented for control of reporting and not rushing to print without facts.
“Before you give me your ideas for the next articles, I have some suggestions on what you might want to investigate.”
The kids open their notebooks and grab their pens. Ellen sits forward, ready to listen. Jenna opens her laptop and begins typing. I know her well enough that she’s doing her own work and not paying any attention to what I’m saying. Her only purpose is to babysit the reporter.
“There are going to be new changes with the new school year.”
Ellen raises her hand and I force a smile at her interruption. “Yes?”
“Your school year runs from July 6th, or the next Monday after the 4th, through May 31st, correct?”
“Yes.”
She sits back and relaxes. I don’t dare hope that this will be the end to her interruptions.
“Baxter will be implementing three new areas of study. Culinary arts, fashion design and physical education.”
Jenna perks up, a bright smile on her lips. I know this is her doing. We talked about it a few times, after she found out what else these kids are interested in and what they wish to pursue in college. I don’t know which students want these things, and I could lose a few writers, but it’s all about setting the kids up for success.
“Physical education,” one of them groans.
“Yes,” Jenna answers from the back of the class. “None of you get enough exercise, and it’s a requirement for college admission.”
The only kid not making a face is Ethan Cook. He’s actually grinning.
“Why are you so happy about phys ed?” Tamara asks.
“Endorphins.” Ethan laughs. “And, it’ll be fun.”
“Endorphins?” Tamara questions. I’m sure she knows what they are. She’s a smart girls whose vocabulary goes beyond the many college graduates. Of course, I hung out with the jocks, so there is that.
“Yes.” Ethan grins. “’Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people just don’t shoot their husbands, they just don’t’.”
She’s looking at him as if he’s lost his mind.
The quote is familiar but I can’t place it. “What is that from?” I ask.
“Legally Blonde,” Ethan and Ellen answer at the same time.
“I miss running and kicking a ball around. I know I’ll be happier at least,” Ethan adds.
I bite back a chuckle and look down at the memorandum from the office. I’m not sure Ethan’s ever written an article that doesn’t have some type of movie quote in it. If he had it his way, he’d spend his time writing movie reviews, if he’d be allowed to go to the movies that is. Instead, his afternoon is split between this class and at the piano.
“We are also going to have a soccer team.”
Ethan straightens. His hand goes up and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear there are tears in his eyes.
“You are serious. Baxter is going to have a soccer team?”
“Yep, that’s what they tell me.”
“Who is going to coach? You?”
I laugh. “Just because I played football doesn’t mean I can coach soccer.”
Ellen’s quietly chuckling at the back of the class. How many discussions did we have about the girlie sport? Not that either of us think it is, just my dick of a dad. Soccer takes a hell of a lot of stamina, more than most football games I ever played, and the only protective gear they wear are shin guards.
I tear my eyes away from her and back to Ethan. “Besides,” I gesture to my left leg. “Running and kicking balls isn’t something I excel at these days.”
Ethan looks back to Jenna. “Do you know who the coach is?”
“I may.” She smiles. “Maybe you should take this assignment then you’ll be the first to have all the facts.”
He jerks around in his seat and raises his hand.
“Fine. Ethan, you’ll report on the new soccer program.”
There’s a quick knock at my door and I call for them to come in. Tara enters, and I’m glad she’s finally here even though the kids haven’t mentioned Jesse.
“We have a new student, Mr. Gabe, and he’s also a writer.”
She steps aside and the young man comes into the room.
My heart falls to my stomach.
Ellen
It’s as if the color has completely drained from Gabe’s face. I look from him to the new student and back again. Both are stunned. Clearly they know one another. What’s the big deal?
Jenna and Tara both stiffen, as if they realize something is wrong too. At least I know my instincts are still intact.
“Class, let me introduce you to Isaac. He’s a junior and just transferred in.”
There are hellos called from around the room, but it’s as if the kids sense something is wrong too. This Isaac hasn’t taken his eyes off of Gabe and Gabe hasn’t stopped looking at him.
“Hello, Mr. K…”
“Mr. Gabe,” he quickly interrupts. “It’s good to see you again, Isaac.”
Jenna’s eyes go wide, as do Tara’s. Students around the room share questioning looks. Very interesting.
The kid has had him as a teacher before, or so I assume. I don’t understand why there seems to be a problem. Not that anyone has said it is, but by the reactions in this room, I suspect it is a very big problem.
Tara glances over at me and quickly recovers, smiling. “Jenna, I’ll be staying if you want to go back to your office.”
She closes her laptop. “Have a great class,” she says a little too brightly before leaving and closing the door behind her.
I sit back, listen and observe. It gets more and more interesting with every minute at this school. But, instead of answers, the questions keep piling up.
Gabe – 20
As much as I try to ignore the thoughts, I know, in the back of my mind, I’ve just taught my last class at Baxter. I love this job, but I can’t be here if Isaac is, and he needs this more than I do.
I’ve tried to ignore Ellen sitting in the back of the class, but her intelligent brown eyes indicate that she hasn’t missed a damn thing. I can almost see the questions rolling around behind that pretty face of hers. Why did she have to be a fucking reporter and why the hell did she have to come here?
Since she entered my life, nothing has gone right. Okay, for a few days, I was on top of the world, but that crashed soon enough. And now, I’m about to be out of a job, the best teaching job I’ve ever had.
The last bell of the day rings and the kids start gathering their things.
“You all have your assignments. If any issues come up, please let me know right away. Otherwise, I expect to see your proofs by close of class on Friday.” I can’t let them know that I don’t anticipate being here to get their article
s, but they won’t really question it if I disappear either.
Isaac stands by his desk, as if he doesn’t know what to do. He’s been silent and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m here, or it’s just the whole getting acclimated to a new school thing or a combination of both. At least he didn’t have a meltdown or suffer a panic attack upon seeing me. Not only would I hate to see him go through something like that, but I wouldn’t want Ellen further wondering about things that aren’t any of her business.
“I can’t wait to read the paper now,” Tara blurts out. “I mean, I always read it, but it’s interesting how the kids get the assignments.”
She’s babbling and we both know it. I’m sure the conversation would be much more serious if Ellen wasn’t standing beside her. And, what to do with Ellen? She can’t be left to wander alone. Tara can’t leave Isaac alone with me to see her out, and I sure as hell don’t want her around Isaac any more than necessary.
“I’ll escort Miss West to the administration building so you can continue helping Isaac get settled.”
Ellen gathers up her things and I follow her outside.
The kids are scattered around the campus, sitting in groups, enjoying the nice day until its dinner time. I’m sure they all have homework, but most don’t touch it until after they’ve eaten. This is about the only leisure time they get.
“Why are you here?” I demand the minute we are away from the building and nobody is close enough to hear.
Ellen
The question startles me. I had hopes that when he offered to escort me out, he might want to talk after the way we left things. Instead, he just wants to interrogate me. Hasn’t he done that enough already?
“I’m doing a story on Baxter.” It’s the truth, but I plan on it being more of an expose. The more I’ve tried to learn, the harder it is to find out anything, which makes me only want to dig deeper. I keep remembering what the girls said. I owe to her and these kids spread out around the campus, enjoying a nice afternoon, to get to the truth and help them.
Though, honestly, none of them really look distressed. There are several groups talking, others sit by themselves, there are couples, though no boy-girl couples, but it looks like an average high school campus where kids don’t have to be anywhere. They don’t appear frightened or angry. A few seem a bit withdrawn, but that’s about it. There are kids like that everywhere.
Was that girl just pissed at the school for getting kicked out because she was a disciplinary problem?
Have I done all of this for nothing?
It can’t be. There are secrets here, a tension from the adults, as if they’re afraid I’ll discover something I shouldn’t.
“Why Baxter?”
“Because I’m curious.” I’m not about to tell him the truth. Maybe if this weekend wouldn’t have gone so bad, I might have told him what I’d overheard, but not now.
“It’s a private high school. There’s nothing interesting about it.”
“There you are wrong.” On more counts than I’ll ever admit. “This school is rumored to educate the next great artists of their generation. Admission isn’t based on academics, but talent, and those who can’t afford, are granted scholarships. In fact, one hundred percent of your students are here are on scholarships, at least according to statistics, unlike the rest of the private schools.”
He nods in agreement. “So?”
“So? Isn’t it time the world learned about them? The school?”
His eyes harden. “No.”
Gabe is going to be uncooperative. I can’t really blame him. He’s not going to tell me a damn thing. I’m surprised he’s talking to me now, but he has little choice since my babysitter had to look after a new student.
That was still odd with the way everyone reacted. I don’t get it.
As Gabe won’t tell me about the school, I’ll ask him a few more questions. “Did you teach anywhere before coming to Baxter?”
He glares at me from the corner of his eye. “You’re writing about Baxter, not me.” We’ve reach the front gate. “And, it’s time for you to go.”
Gabe – 21
This’ll probably go down as my shittiest day at Baxter. I’ve been cooling my heels in the administration buildings in one of the receiving rooms. I’m pretty sure the furniture is as old as the plantation house and not a bit comfortable.
I tried to read, but couldn’t focus on the book long enough and found myself rereading pages, absorbing none of the words. Frustrated, I put it back in my pack and begin to pace, which didn’t last long because of the shooting pain in my knee and up my thigh.
I really don’t want to have to call the doctor again. I’m sick of them, and therapy, and injections and medication. Maybe a massage, or a swim at the health club will help. Though, I’m not sure I should plan on either. If I’m about to lose my job, I can’t afford a massage therapist and I’ll probably have to give up my club membership.
What’s taking so long? Isaac and Tara went into her office well over an hour ago and Mag hasn’t come back from wherever she disappeared to. There’s probably all kinds of meetings and conversations going on, all about what to do with me. Kids coming face to face with the adults from their past isn’t something Baxter takes lightly.
At least Ellen is gone.
Maybe I should just head back to my classroom and start packing up my stuff. It’ll save me time in the end. Not that I have all that much stuff. Favorite books I’d like the kids to read, a picture of my sister and mom, but that’s about it. I’ve never been one to have a bunch of possessions. I didn’t even take my trophies and awards when I moved out. Dad was more proud of them than I ever was.
“Gabe, we need to talk,” Mag says, coming into the room.
My stomach sinks. At least it’s spring and I’ll have plenty of time to find a new teaching position before the fall. But, I don’t want to leave Baxter. I like it here. I like what the school stands for and the kids are so much better than in a public school. Baxter doesn’t tolerate cliques, drama outside the theatre, and there are certainly no gangs dealing drugs or kids bringing guns to school. That doesn’t happen at all schools, but it seems the only schools that need teachers are the ones with the most trouble. And, the kids at Baxter are accepting of everyone. Even if they never become friends, the respect is there. They’re also fucking smart and talented. I don’t want to leave here and go to a school where my hands are tied by bureaucracy and standardized tests to simply babysit one group of students after another. Teaching isn’t supposed to be like that. It wasn’t when I was in school, but it sure as hell looks like it’s headed in that direction.
“A decision hasn’t been made.”
“What?” She’s not firing me, yet?
“Isaac is fine with you remaining on staff and being in your class.”
A part of me relaxes.
“But, he’s sixteen, and might not be the best judge of his recovery.”
I lost track of what happened to Isaac. After he was released from the hospital, he just disappeared. At least they cleared me of any wrongdoing. It wasn’t my fault. It was his fucking father’s. Isaac and I do have one thing in common. We both have dick dads.
“For the moment, we are putting you on paid leave. Tara wants a few more sessions with Isaac, to better evaluate his emotional stability, maturity and overall mental health.”
As much as I don’t want to lose my job, Isaac is the most important person in this situation. It’s all about what is best for him, whether he thinks so or not. “I get it.”
“Hopefully I’ll be able to get back with you by the end of the week,” she says apologetically.
“Take your time. I want what’s best for Isaac too. He deserves to be in a good place. And, he’ll make a great soccer player.” At least there are two kids now to make up the team.
Ellen
There’s nothing in my apartment to cook so I head to Sullivan’s Pub, which I quickly learned was probably the best restaurant in town and grab
a table in a back corner. After plugging in my laptop and switching on the hotspot on my phone I pull up the internet browser and type in Gabe Kent. There are all kinds, but I’m not seeing his picture, or anything of interest. Then I type Gabriel Kent. I can’t believe I didn’t Google Gabe before, and it’s as good a place to start my research into the adults who are a part of Baxter. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I still want to know more about him, even after how our trip to New York ended.
The waitress stops by my table and I give her my order. I hadn’t really looked at the menu but after a quick glance I see they have burgers and order one with a Coke. When she leaves, I plug in my earbuds so I can block out the noise and look back at the screen to see if my search produced anything.
“Holy crap!” The reporters sure loved him once upon a time. The page floods with links, and a ton of images and I start reading the articles.
The waitress brings me a burger, the size of New York, and way more than I can possibly eat, and refills my Coke. I cut the burger into quarters and go back to reading article after article about Gabe. He was quite the athlete, promises of the pros after college. Then I see the video clip of the career ending injury. A tackle from the side, his body going one way, but the lower half of his left leg going another. My stomach revolts and I push the plate away. I was getting full anyway, but I’m sure I’ll never get the sight of his pain filled face, the lower half of his leg folded and turned in the opposite directions, the blood around is knee, or the screams, loud enough to silence everyone else in the stadium.
The following reporters detail his injuries. A complete break of the femur, right above the knee. No amount of surgeries or therapy could help Gabe return to the field.
There’s nothing much for a few years before his name pops back up in the news. He was being investigated for child endangerment. I read the article about lightning striking the field during track practice. He and a student were injured. He was cleared, but nobody answered the question of why they were out there with a storm coming in the first place.