Miss Lydia Fairbanks and the Losers Club

by Duane L. Ostler

CHAPTER TWENTY

  "Class," said Miss Fairbanks on a fresh Monday morning, "I have a sad announcement to make." Worried looks crossed dozens of faces as they instantly assumed she'd be telling them she was leaving Inner City Junior High School forever, and would never return. They had seen many of their other teachers make this type of announcement, although the other teachers always did so with unrestrained glee. Usually the kids were gleeful to see them go too.

  "We won't let you go!" yelled Armpit Arnold, rising to his feet.

  Miss Fairbanks blinked in surprise, completely caught off guard. Then she smiled as comprehension dawned. "I am not leaving this school," she said quickly, which bought instant relief to many worried minds and made Arnold sit down in embarrassment.

  "No, my announcement has to do with your next writing assignment." There were groans from around the room. Not that the students were very upset at having another assignment. In fact, knowing it was from Miss Fairbanks, they were looking forward to it! They were simply groaning because that is what they felt obligated to do, to maintain their image as lazy, work-avoiding students.

  "There has been a terrible crime committed," said Miss Fairbanks, making them all look at her with even greater curiosity. "Your next writing assignment will require you to help right this terrible wrong." Turning to Slapface, she said gently, "Joyce, will you please come forward and tell the awful thing that happened to you?"

  Slapface stood up and moved to the front of the room, looking a bit embarrassed. She was not as skilled at pretending as Miss Fairbanks, and fidgeted with her hands. But she had agreed with her teacher to do this, and was not about to back down now. "Well, it's like this," she said, trying to look shaken and disturbed. "I was walking innocently down 'B' hall, minding my own business when suddenly I was attacked!"

  "By a three-headed alien who wondered why you stink so bad?" blurted Armpit Arnold, chortling in glee. It was one of the few times he was able to remember that he was not in the 'loser's club' and could make snide comments to his heart's content. Slapface raised her slapping hand menacingly and glared at him. At the sight of her hand, Arnold's laughter was short lived.

  Miss Fairbanks had chosen her assistant well.

  "The attacker was a boy wearing a ski mask," said Slapface. "He raced up to me and he ... he ..." she struggled to pretend she was truly traumatized at what happened. Finally she said, "He kissed me on my forehead!"

  There was a collective gasp from the room. "Was he sick or something?" blurted the purple haired kid.

  "Maybe he was just blind!" said someone else. Unlike Arnold, the kids making these comments had not attended the 'loser's club' yet, so they didn't have to keep straight in their minds what they were saying and where they were saying it.

  Slapface glared at them as she re-took her seat. Miss Fairbanks had warned her of course that there would likely be some snide comments. But Slapface was used to such nonsense and knew how to take care of herself. And the plan Miss Fairbanks had cooked up sounded like a lot of fun.

  "Yes students," said Miss Fairbanks, holding her hand over her heart as if she was pained at the horror of it all. "You have just heard the story of the 'B' hall smoocher. And I have the further displeasure to tell you that the attacker was one of the boys sitting in this room!"

  The kids all looked at each other in amazement, wondering what kid in his right mind would run up and kiss Slapface, even if he DID have a ski mask over his head to keep from being seen.

  "And this now leads us to your new assignment. Until the perpetrator of this terrible crime has been uncovered, all of you will be involved in the legal court system in an effort to bring the guilty party to justice. You will be required to write brief legal statements, arguments and accusations or defensive statements depending on whether you are the lawyer who is defending an accused person, or the prosecutor who is accusing him. And then we will hold a trial, right here in our classroom, in which evidence will be presented that hopefully will reveal the perpetrator and resolve this terrible crime!"

  "That's batty!" said Armpit Arnold, voicing the thought that was in many of their minds. Miss Fairbanks smiled at him sweetly. "Thank you Mr. Arnold, for volunteering to be the chief prosecutor in this case. It will be your sad duty to discover the evil villain who dared commit this crime, and bring him to justice!"

  Arnold smiled suddenly. "I get to put someone in jail?" he said excitedly.

  "Better than that!" said Miss Fairbanks. "The guilty party is to be executed--posthumously, of course."

  Arnold screwed up his face in confusion, which was a relatively normal look for him. "What's posthumously mean?"

  "After the dude's dead, of course," responded Melvin, rolling his eyes.

  Arnold blinked. "You mean, the guilty guy's going to be killed for this crime years from now after he's dead?"

  "Exactly!" said Miss Fairbanks firmly. "Now here is how we will organize our trial. Melvin Dugard will be the judge. We already have a volunteer to be chief prosecutor, but we still need two people to act as defense attorneys for the two accused boys. And of course there will be assistant prosecutors and witnesses and a court bailiff, and the accused boys themselves ..."

  And so it went. To his surprise, the purple-haired boy found that he was one of the two who was accused of committing this horrendous case of smooching. His face turned red as a beet, and he firmly denied it, proving either that he truly was innocent or that he was an exceptionally good actor (if he was the boy who had agreed secretly with Miss Fairbanks to play this role). The other accused boy was Amasa Simmons, a big, lumbering fellow who had the annoying habit of constantly cracking his knuckles all class long. He also strongly denied the attack, making many in the class wonder just who the guilty nut could be.

  The students were secretly thrilled of course. Miss Fairbanks had done it again! For the next three weeks as the case wound its tortured way through the legal justice system in their classroom, they would have a ball and learn a bit about legal writing at the same time. It was a genius idea.

  This consensus was shared by all of Miss Fairbanks' classes throughout the day. Of course, she had had to pre-arrange separate victims, accused boys, and judges for each class. But she had chosen her subjects well, and with feverish energy her students threw their efforts into solving the horrifying case of the 'B' hall smoocher.

  Roughly a week after the trials started, after school one day at the start of the 'loser's club' meeting, Miss Fairbanks said she had a surprise announcement to make to the club. Only eleven kids were present on this day, which was far fewer than normal. The unusually warm weather probably was the cause, since it had been cold and wintry for weeks, and today everyone wanted to get outside at last to enjoy the sunshine. So it was only the most loyal of the students who were there, such as Heather, Ella, Jerry, Melvin, Jared and a smattering of the others.

  "Brent is being released tomorrow!" said Miss Fairbanks happily, throwing her arms wide in another one of her needless gestures for dramatic effect. "He only just found out yesterday, and told me when I visited him. So we'll see him again in class, and here in the club."

  The announcement flew over the heads of many of the students of course, since they had a hard time remembering who Brent was. They had last seen him in "pre-Miss Fairbanks days" when there was no kindness at Inner City Junior High School, and the only people kids took notice of were the bullies who might taunt them. But Heather smiled happily, and so did Jerry. It was good to know their friend was coming back.

  "Is he happy about it?" asked Heather.

  "He'll be happy to be back in class and here in the club, but he's very nervous about going home," said Miss Fairbanks. She shook her head. "I can't say I blame him. But I told him to just do his best and get by as well as he can."

  For the next few minutes everyone in the 'loser's club' chatted happily like normal. It was a regular, pleasant day like any other. They were all mindful of course that without Miss Fairbanks and what she had brought to Inner City J
unior High School, it would not have been a pleasant day at all. Indeed, they had come to rely on her and the 'loser's club' so much that it was horrifying to think what it had been like before her arrival. A few of them had occasionally tried to thank Miss Fairbanks for what she had done for them, which she always dismissed with an impatient wave of her hand. The rest had learned that the best way to show their gratitude was to simply enjoy the day to the fullest, and to enjoy each other's company.

  Unfortunately however, this day was destined to be a bit different than other days.

  It happened after the club had been in the classroom for about half an hour. There was a sudden sound from the door. Turning, the students and Miss Fairbanks were surprised to see a man standing there. He was in his 40s, and was thick and stocky. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were bleary, while he was swaying on his feet. Everyone there had seen enough of those symptoms to know that this man was drunk.

  "Is there a Lydia Fairbanks in here?" he gabbled in a slurred voice. Heather's face had gone white in fear, and Miss Fairbanks was trembling. This was not looking good.

  "Who wants to know?" said Jared suddenly, rising angrily to his feet.

  "Shut up, boy, or your teeth will be chewing on your tonsils," said the man. He staggered into the room. Miss Fairbanks glanced nervously at Jared, who said quietly, "I'll go get help."

  "No you won't boy," said the man, pulling a gun from under his jacket. He was still swaying badly on his feet, and it was apparent he had been drinking heavily.

  Everyone in the room froze. As drunk as he was it became instantly obvious that he might start shooting at random any second.

  "I am Lydia Fairbanks," said Miss Fairbanks, stepping forward. Her chin was quivering and her hands were trembling, but she was determined at any cost to divert his attention from her students, so that if anyone ended up being a target it would not be them.

  "Oh, you're the stinking teacher I've been looking for, eh?" said the man with a cruel grin. "And I guess you're mighty proud of yourself, aren't you too?" He staggered closer to Miss Fairbanks. "Aren't you?" he yelled louder. Her nose twitched at the stench of alcohol on his breath.

  Jared took a step forward but the man's gun was up instantly, pointing at the boy. Without hesitation Miss Fairbanks darted in between the gun and Jared. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said in a wavering voice. "It's obvious you've been drinking and should just go home and rest--"

  "Don't pretty mouth me, you little [email protected]&*%!" he bellowed. "I saw what you did to Brent! You turned him against me! Him and that blasted cat!"

  A look of surprise crossed Miss Fairbanks' face. "Are you Mr. Llewelyn?" she asked.

  "Don't call me that!" raged the man, waving his gun suddenly in her face. "That's the brat's name from his real dad. My name's Burt Sage. And don't you forget it!"

  Jared stepped to the side of Miss Fairbanks, causing Burt to instantly swivel his gun in his direction. Then to the astonishment of all, little Ella darted for the door. Burt swung around and pulled the trigger. The bullet left an ugly gash in the door frame while the shot echoed deafeningly in their ears. But Ella had safely made it out and was racing down the hall.

  Jared lunged for the gun in Burt's hand. The big man tried to swivel out of his way but was too slow in his stupor. Jared grabbed the gun hand and tried to shake the gun out of it. But Burt brought up his other fist and slammed Jared in the jaw, sending him spinning over two desks before he crashed into a heap on the floor. He lay there without moving.

  "Now see here--" began Miss Fairbanks angrily. Burt brought up his gun hand and knocked her on the head with it, sending her crashing back into her teacher's desk.

  "Anyone else want to mess with me?" he snarled, waving the gun at each of the kids in turn. No one moved or answered. They simply stared at him with white faces. However, suddenly Slapface got up and started to go toward Jared.

  "Stop it there girly, if you don't want a bullet in your brain."

  "But he might be hurt!" she cried.

  Burt snorted. "So what. The brat got what he deserved. Nobody messes with Burt Sage and gets away with it. Nobody!" He turned waveringly to face Miss Fairbanks. "And that especially goes for you!" he yelled, pointing the gun at her head.

  Principal Clyde was just finishing yet another budget request to the school district when he heard the gunshot. Although his head was throbbing with a migraine, he was instantly on his feet. It was the sound he dreaded hearing every moment of every day he was in this disgusting school.

  He raced into the outer office and was profoundly grateful that Mrs. Jenkins was still there, typing up the last of the daily reports. "Where did it come from?" he asked in a frenzied voice.

  "Sounded like Miss Fairbanks' room," said Mrs. Jenkins in a frightened voice. Principal Clyde groaned and rolled her eyes. "Call 911!" he barked, even though she had already picked up the phone and started dialing. Principal Clyde darted out into the hall and was nearly knocked over as Ella came charging up to him. "A man with a gun in Miss Fairbanks room!" she sobbed through a flood of tears.

  "Just one man?" yelled Principal Clyde in her face. She nodded her head. "And who else is in there?" he demanded, shaking her violently for no good reason.

  "Slapface and Jared and Heather and--"

  Turning, Principal Clyde dragged Ella into the office and over to Mrs. Jenkins' desk. She was just hanging up the phone. "The police will be right here," she said in a pinched voice.

  "This girl knows who's in there," said Principal Clyde. "Get all their names and start calling their families. Including Miss Fairbanks."

  "Miss Fairbanks?" said Mrs. Jenkins in surprise. "But she doesn't have any family."

  "You know who I mean!" yelled Principal Clyde. Then he turned and raced from the room. With shaking hands Mrs. Jenkins began searching for phone numbers as Ella started rattling off names through her tears.

  "You're the troublemaker that's caused all of it," snarled Burt as he pointed his gun at Miss Fairbanks. "Filling Brent's head with nonsense ideas, encouraging him to keep his mangy cat, telling him to run away and not respect his elders! Now the brat's coming home tomorrow and a bunch of idiots from the state came to my house and spouted off about what I can do and can't do in my own home. And they threatened to put me in jail if I don't do what they said! Me--Burt Sage! Well no one can do that to me!"

  Miss Fairbanks' hands were started to shake so badly she tried to hide them behind her back. The horror of her past and the scenes from her childhood were rising like a banshee within her, threatening to once more overpower her and reduce her to a sniveling, sobbing wreck, twitching on the floor. Not here! Not now! She couldn't lose control now, with her precious students in danger. She had to somehow remain calm and cool, and drive the horrifying past images from her mind.

  "Mr. Sage," she said in a croaking whisper. "I think you are sadly mistaken. Your boy Brent is--"

  "He's not my boy!" yelled the man wildly. It looked as if he was squeezing and unsqueezing the trigger, causing Heather to yelp in fright. Burt turned on her and yelled, "Stop sniveling, you whiney little brat! I'm not going to hurt you! It's your idiot teacher I want!"

  "Well, Mr. Sage, if that's all you want," said Miss Fairbanks weakly, "then the others are surely free to go."

  "Not likely!" he yelled again, waving the gun around at all of them. "No one leaves until I say they do! I missed that other bratty girl, but I won't miss again."

  There was a groan from Jared from where he was lying on the floor. Slapface once more made a move to go over to him. "Stay where you are, missy," said Burt menacingly. "Let him wallow in it. He asked for it, anyway."

  Miss Fairbanks sank down into her chair, blinking back the tears. Not now! Not now!! She had to stay composed. She couldn't collapse now! With every ounce of will power in her tiny frame, she fought the images that were reaching up within her, grasping at her with their tentacles of hopeless despair.

  But the horror of what her eyes were seeing wa
s so much like what she had seen before, she wasn't sure she would be able to hold out much longer.

  "How many of them are there?" said the policeman urgently to Principal Clyde as he ran in the door.

  "One man," said Principal Clyde, feeling a distinctly sharp pain from one of his ulcers. "He's got a teacher and ten students holed up in a room around the corner and down the hall." He and the policeman took off at a dead run. Rounding the corner they saw Burt through the open door of Miss Fairbanks room. Unfortunately he saw them at the same time. He rapidly turned and fired in the same instant the policeman brought his own gun up. Fortunately Burt missed.

  "There's kids in there!" yelled Principal Clyde as the officer took aim. The officer hesitated. Burt darted out of visibility, then slammed closed the door to Miss Fairbanks' room.

  The officer swore under his breath. Other officers came racing up to him. "I want a cordon around the building," barked the first officer. Two officers down there, on either side of the door. One stationed here. Bring in the big communication set. I need an instant link to the chief." The officer continued to bark orders as Principal Clyde stepped back and slumped against the wall. He closed his eyes and ran a shaky hand through his hair.

  Enough was enough. It was time to quit this lousy job, and go live under that freeway overpass.

  "You can't keep us here forever," said Melvin in a surprisingly calm voice to Burt.

  "Shut up brat!" said the man gruffly, waving the gun in his direction. "I can do what I want."

  "Melvin's right, you know," spoke up Miss Fairbanks quickly. Her eyes were blurry and she could hardly breathe, but somehow she had managed to avoid a collapse so far. And she was determined to keep Burt's focus on her, and away from her students. "They'll get in here sooner or later. There's no sense to what you're doing."

  "There's no sense to what you've done!" yelled Burt in her face. He reached out and grabbed her, pulling her out of her chair. "You've messed with me for the last time!"

  "NO!" choked Heather from her seat. Burt instantly turned and fired. Fortunately the bullet went wild. But in that instant a transformation came over Miss Lydia Fairbanks. This deranged man had once again tried to kill one of her students. He might do it a third time at any second. The time for talk had passed. It was time for action!

  She twisted free of his grip, then sank her teeth into the fingers of his gun hand. Burt screamed, dropping his gun, which fortunately did not go off. Turning, he struck at Miss Fairbanks with what used to be his gun hand. She dodged. Behind him, she saw Heather racing forward to get the gun off the floor.

  "Get out!" she cried. "Don't worry about the gun!"

  Burt slammed Miss Fairbanks against the wall, then turned on Heather. She succeeded at kicking the gun away then shrank back before the big man. From somewhere in his jacket he produced a knife. Miss Fairbanks watched in horror as he raised it above his head, ready to strike Heather down.

  "NO!" she cried in what to her was an extremely loud voice, but in fact was not particularly loud at all. Then she pounced, diving in front of Heather just as Burt brought the knife down. It sank deep into her flesh, not far from her heart.

  She looked up at him in shock as the pain throbbed through her. Then she slowly sank to the floor while he pulled the knife out and raised it above his head once more. He looked frenzied as if he hardly believed what he'd done. "Now I guess it's time to finish the job," he said shrilly.

  The door suddenly burst open and a man flung himself into the room. Pouncing on Burt, he brought his knee up to the big man's chest with a dull thud, while one of his hand's gripped Burt's hair. Burt swung the knife around, slashing wildly. He succeeded at slicing his attacker's arm. But the man on top of Burt seemed to take no notice of the wound. He pounded with his fists and grappled with Burt's knife hand. "Leave my daughter alone!" he cried.

  Staring up at the two fighting men with glazed eyes, Miss Fairbanks saw that the man attacking Burt was her father. His face was twisted in a grimace of grief as he continued to swing wildly at the bigger man.

  Burt swung again with his knife, cutting her father's arm once more. Miss Fairbanks, gasped, causing the pain in her wounded side to rise up in agonizing proportions. The two men were now face to face, and for a minute it looked like her father would succeed at getting the knife off the bigger man. But then Burt broke free, and started to swing the knife down at her father's heart.

  "Excuse me," said a mild, incredibly calm voice from behind her father. And suddenly Mr. Brek was there, gently pushing her father out of the way! He caught Burt's knife hand and easily twisted the weapon out of Burt's hand. Then he casually picked up Burt--all 200 pounds of him--as if he was picking a piece of paper off the sidewalk. Turning, Mr. Brek threw Burt toward the far wall, fully ten feet away, where he crashed with a rather sickening, crunching sound. He fell and lay at the foot of the wall, where he remained very still.

  "Lydia!" cried her father as he leaned over her, his eyes wide and terrified. "You're hurt!" He gaped down at the widening swath of blood that was making its way across her dress. He was completely heedless of the blood that was soaking his own arm.

  "Miss Fairbanks!" cried Heather, coming up behind him. In another instant Mr. Brek was there gazing down at her as well. He looked pained, and at the sight of her glazed eyes and wound he suddenly appeared very weak, as if even lifting a feather would now be too much for him.

  Miss Fairbanks smiled up at them all. "Hello, father," she choked in a strangled voice. "It's good to see you again. It's been such a long time …"

  "Don't talk Lydia," said her father, stroking her hair. "An ambulance will be here soon."

  "Oh, don't worry about me," said Miss Fairbanks, trying to act casual. She frowned as their images swam dizzyingly in front of her eyes and began to fade. Her breathing was raspy and didn't sound good at all.

  "You know," she said weakly, "I always wished it had been me. I always wanted that so bad. After all, I was the one that caused it. It was completely my fault. Why should anyone else have to suffer?" She paused, trying to catch her breath as everything started to go dark.

  "Don't talk, Lydia," said her father urgently, his voice trembling with pain. "Save your strength. Help is on the way."

  Miss Fairbanks coughed, apparently not having heard him. "And finally it happened," she continued, whispering gently as a tiny smile stole across her face. "Finally it really happened." She paused. "Finally it was me." Her head lolled back and she suddenly became very still.