by Kathryn Shay
Several people chuckled. They were a captive audience, and they knew it. But even if they hadn’t been required by the district to take these Friday afternoon workshops, most of them would have. The incident with Smurf had spooked them but good and brought home just how dangerous today’s schools could be.
Word of Smurf’s activities, and Joe’s role in stopping the bombing of their building. The papers had most of the story—except that Joe and Luke were Secret Service agents and that Luke had saved the day. Actually, Joe was given credit for ending the scene without violence.
Over the past week, the district administration had been frenetic, trying to deal with the fallout of Smurf’s actions. Suzanna had called an emergency faculty meeting Tuesday morning, sent letters home to parents, and had Q & A sessions with the student body and the community. She’d even gone to see Smurf. He was in juvenile detention until psychiatrists gave their recommendations when his court date came up.
This in-servicing was the last thing for Joe to implement, and then he’d be leaving.
“I’d like to start out with some background on myself and why I was specifically involved with this incident, and with the training you’re about to embark on. Though I know most of you, and hopefully my work with our kids speaks for itself, I have some areas of expertise from my previous jobs that can benefit you now. Primarily, my association with the Department of Education in Washington.”
Together with the school officials, Joe had decided to stick with this story until they found out what Brenda Way intended to do with her information. She hadn’t called or talked to any of them all week; Suzanna had tried to reach her several times, with no luck. They lived in a tense limbo about it, but had to proceed with a plan. There was so much to do.
“During my stint with the DOE, we worked with the government—the Secret Service, mainly—on the Safe School Initiative.” Not really a lie, he thought ruefully. He held up a copy of the document he’d been partly responsible for creating. “If you’d like to read this, I’ll have copies available on Monday. In any case, let me tell you about that study.”
He filled them in on the information he’d given Suzanna a few months ago: how they’d interviewed shooters...found that profiling was ineffective...how they came up with recommendations for effecting safe schools.
Carefully, he omitted the one thing no one was ever to know—their undercover work. Because of Brenda Way, the whole world might find out, but for now, he kept it under wraps, where it belonged, so their good work could continue.
His gaze landed briefly on Suzanna, who sat in the back of the room, her shoulders stiff in her dark pink suit, her mouth grim. She’d suffered over the incident with Smurf, over the subject at hand—her school being at risk—and over the fact that after this weekend, she’d never see Joe again. Don’t think about that. But deep in his hardened heart, he knew that memories of Suzanna would linger in his mind like a dream you couldn’t forget or a scent you couldn’t escape.
“Out of all this research,” he continued, “and other studies we reviewed, and after meeting with the Board of Education and superintendent, we’ve come up with a three-pronged approach to make Fairholm High School as safe as it can be. After the incident with Jimmy Smurfella, I know you all realize the importance of having the proper plans in place.” Mumbling among the crowd. “Before I introduce all that, are there any questions so far?”
There were a few queries about Smurf, which Joe fielded obliquely. Suzanna had answered most of them earlier in the week.
A young science teacher raised his hand. “We heard you’re leaving, Joe. Is that true?”
“Yes, Jeff. I was hired to be an interim crisis counselor until the end of the year, but I’ve been offered a permanent position in the Department of Ed beginning June one. I’ll be leaving a month early. This is my last day.”
More mumbling. It was obvious the staff was not happy.
“How about a last question or comment?”
Tom Gannon, the AP Social Studies teacher, stood. “I’d like to say you’ve done a good job here, Dr. Stonehouse, getting us over the hump of Mr. Riley’s suicide and working with our pupils. We also know you were instrumental in solving the Smurf incident without anyone being hurt. Thank you for all that.”
The entire staff clapped rousingly.
Stunned, Joe felt an unfamiliar warmth spread through him. Despite its problems, being an educator today carried with it a deep sense of satisfaction. The thought that he’d like to be a part of this faculty permanently snuck up on him. “Thank you, Mr. Gannon. I’ll miss you all.”
He saw Suzanna smile at him. He smiled back.
“Now, I’d like to explain our three-pronged approach.” He turned to his computer and brought up the first diagram on an overhead screen. In vivid color, using graphics that Luke had constructed, the Physical Building, Student Orientation, and Staff In-service came up. “These are the areas that need to be addressed. First I’ll talk about what we already do right here at Fairholm. Then I’ll suggest the things we need to do better.” He called up a smiley face—Luke’s idea—with a list underneath. “The research shows that small classes, monitoring school grounds access, and an adequate security force are all done well at Fairholm, and coincide with the New York State requirements. Also, our no-backpack policy, wide, well-lighted hallways, and the clean, kept-up physical building contribute to pride in our school, which in turn makes it a safer school.”
He smiled. “Good job. However, we can do more.” Quickly Joe outlined the major changes: adjusting the class schedule to have minimum hall traffic; reworking the layout of the cafeteria—for which he’d gotten the grant money; closing off dangerous areas, like a few back hallways and some isolated places around the gym and music suites that were hard to supervise.
These were accepted with murmurs of assent. Grumbles—not many—came when Joe recommended staggering end-of-day dismissal times, closing the campus at lunch, and hiring a security force to monitor the cafeteria. He let them complain a moment, then said, “And last, all teachers and administrators need to supervise the halls between classes and before and after school.”
Suzanna watched the man she loved work the crowd and give her staff recommendations that he and the administration had hammered out. She cringed every time she thought of what Smurf had done, and what he’d almost done, but for Joe’s and Luke’s intervention. On top of that, they still didn’t know what Brenda was going to do with her information. Brenda’s lack of communication was nerve-racking. The threat of exposure hung over their heads, and it was getting harder and harder to wait. In addition to those very practical concerns, it hurt like hell that Brenda had betrayed her.
To avoid thinking about it, she listened as Joe fielded questions, pride swelling her heart as he handled the group well. The staff didn’t agree with everything, of course, but they were scared and they were willing to consider what he suggested.
As she watched him, she wondered how she was going to let him go. He would leave Sunday. Never again would he sleep with her, hold her during the night, laugh with her. The knowledge brought tears to her eyes.
I’ll be going soon, he’d said.
Do you know when?
Luke and I think another week will do it. It’ll take that long to set up a plan we’ll leave with you.
She’d smiled because she didn’t want to cry. You’ll leave us with a better school, Joe. A safer one. Thank you.
I appreciate your telling me that, Suzie Q, since you were so against my being here.
She’d leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Which is exactly why I’m telling you, she said lightly, though the nickname almost did her in; she was losing that part of herself when Joe left. She was Suzie Q with no one else.
With a heavy heart, she tuned back in to Joe’s words. “Let’s go over the second part, which is what we already do well with kids. First, despite what happened with Smurf, we do listen to them. We have good communication with them and with each other. We’ve al
so got a fair discipline policy and consequences spelled out in our handbook according to the state’s new Code of Conduct. In place is a solid referral system for troubled kids. And—some researchers think this is the single most important factor in keeping violence out of your school—there are numerous opportunities for kids to spend time with adults during, before, and after school. Again, the incident with Smurf doesn’t negate these things. We just need to do more of all that. Even better than we do now.” He flipped the screen. “And, incorporate these things.”
The list on the screen, Suzanna knew, consisted of recommendations that would have been a hard sell if it hadn’t been for last week’s incident. She listened to the low, masculine cadence of his voice as he outlined the psychological factors the school had to yet to address. The first was thoroughly investigating all complaints of kids, especially bullying.
“We’ll also have in place an outline of what teachers can do when they become aware of bullying, and how to preclude it. In our handbook for September will be suggestions for what actions students can and should take if they’re being bullied.”
Suzanna thought of poor Smurf getting stuffed in lockers and picked on by bigger, macho boys in gym class. The school—Suzanna herself—should have done more. What had happened could have been precluded.
Joe continued, “Then there are the risk factors that you need to be aware of.”
Lester Wells, the assistant principal, raised his hand. “I read the Secret Service report when it came out. It discourages profiling.”
“I’m talking warning signs here, not creating profiles. The DOE compiled general risk factors and imminent ones. All staff needs to be made aware of what to watch for in kids, what to notice and evaluate, then report it so our psychologists can do a threat assessment.”
“How is that different from profiling?” Lester asked.
“A threat assessment is after the fact: a teacher sees a number of risk factors in a kid and suggests he be evaluated. In a profile, you’re given traits and asked to fit your students into them. The first is an observation. The second is a stereotype.
Finally, Joe got to the last part. “We also need a way for students to report both the problems they’re having in school—like bullying—and the suspicions they have about others’ violent tendencies and even threats. We have to help kids see they need to tell an adult about these things.”
“Sounds like a Nazi state,” Mike Wolfe grumbled. He’d been uncooperative and surly since Kelsey had stopped seeing him. It didn’t help that the Phys Ed staff had been specifically targeted for training in how to stop the age-old practice of picking on weaker kids in gym class.
Joe looked back to Suzanna. They’d agreed to let her handle this kind of negativity. She stood. “It isn’t a Nazi state, Mike. We have to teach kids the difference between being tattletales and taking responsibility for the safety of their school. We’ll give them a way to report what’s happening to them personally, and an anonymous, safe way to report what they hear about others. As Joe said, out of forty-one cases of school shootings that the Secret Service studied, forty young shooters told other students they were going to do it.”
“We aren’t psychologists,” Wolfe continued, like a dog with a bone.
Joe put in smoothly, “Which is why you’ll be in-serviced in these three areas.”
Kelsey listened to Mike Wolfe complain about Joe’s plan and shook her head. Though the staff knew, of course, that Smurf had built bombs and could have blown up the school, they had no idea their school had been under watch and had been studied for potential violence. They also didn’t know that Luke and Joe had very possibly saved lives by their work with kids like Max and Ben. Now they were completing the circle with plans for the future.
Her heart ached as she watched Suzanna and Joe react as a team. Wasn’t it obvious to everybody how close they were, how they belonged together? But Joe was leaving this weekend, just as Luke was. Again that empty feeling inside her surfaced. In a few short hours, Luke would be gone.
At least they’d made a truce.
To finish the charade, he’d attended classes all week. In addition, he’d been busy helping Joe develop this plan, but had stayed after school a couple of times to talk to her.
How’s the knee? he’d asked.
Better. The bruises?
He touched his brow. Fit right into my disguise. I told the kids I was goin’ back to live with my mother. Uncle Joe finally had enough after this newest fight.
So it’s over?
Yeah, I guess.
It was. Not only had Joe told Kelsey that after a job was finished, the agents were required to leave town and have no contact with anybody in the school, but she’d heard Suzanna and Joe talking about the lifestyle of Secret Service agents. They were always on the move, and were constantly in danger. She didn’t think she could live knowing Luke faced down bombers and shooters every day of his life. Add that to his deception, and the hurt feelings her lack of trust had caused, and any kind of future with Luke looked impossible. Neither of them was in any position to make promises.
Deliberately dragging her mind away from Luke, she tried to concentrate on the in-service courses everyone in the building would take. “These will be held every other Friday afternoon, and the kids will be dismissed.” Another ripple of murmurs. When Joe had asked her opinion, Kelsey had suggested giving release time for the staff so they’d know the district valued the training. She also suggested they continue the in-service with voluntary courses, and he’d asked her to be on the committee to plan them.
Joe began to wind down. “The three areas of in-servicing are Early Warning Signs and Imminent Risk Factors, Responding to Troublesome Behavior in Students, and a Crisis Response Plan: what students and staff will do if a crisis occurs.”
Having heard it all before, Kelsey half-listened. The Secret Service had accomplished what they’d set out to do at Fairholm High School. Too bad she felt like a casualty of their operation. And it could get worse. If Brenda went ahead and published what she’d found out, it could mean more emotional wreckage—and professional consequences—for them all. Kelsey couldn’t bear to think about it.
Finally, the meeting ended. She wanted to talk with Suzanna. Though she was still raw, she’d come to truly believe she’d been wrong to blame her friend for her part in their deception; Suzanna had been as much of a victim as she was. And they needed each other now. Turning, she saw Suzanna heading toward the back of the room.
Where Brenda Way leaned against the wall.
o0o
As Suzanna approached her, Brenda felt a sense of loss she’d experienced only once before—when Conrad Schenk had died. That feeling was why she’d come to the high school today, and partly why she’d made the decision she had. As her best friend in the world came closer, Brenda was assaulted by the evidence of Suzanna’s suffering—her mouth was a grim slash in her face, and mauve smudges marred the skin beneath her bloodshot eyes.
Defensively, Suzanna crossed her arms over her chest. “Hello, Brenda.”
“Hi, Suz.” The affectionate term made Suzanna’s eyes widen.
Behind her, Kelsey approached them. In the background, teachers milled around. Brenda saw Joe was surrounded by the staff; some also stood back, waiting to speak with Suzanna. Myriad questions had been raised by this meeting. Brenda thought Joe had done a good job with his explanations.
When she reached them, Kelsey touched Suzanna’s arm lightly. “What do you want?” Kelsey asked Brenda.
“I’d like to speak with you, Joe, Luke, and Suzanna. Now, if possible.”
Suzanna glanced over her shoulder. “I have to be here for a while longer. And Luke’s out of the building.”
“What’s this about?” Kelsey was cool, and obviously angry.
“I’ll tell you all at once.”
Kelsey agreed to call Luke while Suzanna and Joe met informally with the faculty. It took almost an hour for them all to assemble in Suzanna’s office,
where Brenda had gone to wait.
When they finally arrived, one after the other, Joe’s eyes burned with angry intensity; Luke stood guard behind Kelsey, both looking frustrated; and Suzanna just seemed tired.
“I’ll make this quick.” Brenda nodded to a box on the floor that she’d dragged in earlier. “That’s all the information I gathered on your operation. Files. Reports. Research. CDs. And the hard drive on my computer is ruined,” she said—a reference to Joe’s smashing her computer— “so there’s nothing on there either.”
Joe placed a protective hand on Suzanna’s shoulder. Luke did the same with Kelsey. “What does this mean?” Joe asked.
“I’m not going to use it.” Brenda lifted her chin. “I’m not blowing you in.”
Tears came to Suzanna’s eyes. “I knew you wouldn’t,” she said, choking back the emotion.
“You give me too much credit, Suzanna. You always did.”
“I don’t think so.”
Luke asked, “What made you change your mind?”
Wishing like hell for a cigarette, Brenda sank back into her chair. How much could she tell them about Conrad’s things—his effects that she’d gotten when he’d died? For some reason, over the past soul-searching week, she’d gone through the boxes. Among them, she’d found copies of his work—incisive, innovative articles and essays, one of which he’d thought might win him a Pulitzer. Right down to the very last, they were scrupulously ethical. But it was mostly perusing the lucrative stock portfolio and rereading the letter he’d left her, which explained that he was making it possible for her to live comfortably and never be forced to do something illegal or unethical for money.
“I gave this a lot of thought.” Which was true. “Mostly my decision hinged on what you said about kids being hurt in other schools across the country if your undercover work was exposed.” She shrugged, once again feeling the weight of that responsibility. “And from what I hear, Jimmy Smurfella could have blown up the school if our two James Bonds–in-the-flesh hadn’t stopped him.” She nodded to Joe. “You are saving lives. Basically, I couldn’t live with the knowledge that I might have precluded that intervention.”