There was a loud throng of applause again as he excused himself, probably to his air conditioned limo with copious mini bar.
A group of Thornhill members took the stage. Henry, Lainey and Ambrose sat down first, on folding chairs in a row at the back. I was surprised to note that Madison, Lainey's best friend, was not among them. It was like seeing conjoined twins separated. McPherson was there too, and several well-dressed adults that seemed somewhat familiar but I couldn't put names to.
Both of Henry's parents were there, Phillip dressed in a slick looking dark gray suit, his mother in a red number. Ambrose and Henry were also wearing suits, but the way they were leaning away from each other made it seem like they hated each other. I could only imagine how warm they would be in this muggy afternoon, since my own fingers were already getting stuck together.
A man in front of us slopping hot dog relish on his plaid shirt kept craning his neck up to get a better look, blocking my view of the stage. Hugh and I shifted a bit to the side, but Claire seemed happy to be hidden.
McPherson took the stage next. He was just as out-of-place as I expected him to look: his tie was crooked, and his suit looked much cheaper than those of the other adults, several sizes too big. He seems much to eager to get to the microphone. Hugh seemed as surprised as I had been to see McPherson.
"What's Edgar doing up there?" he muttered, bracing himself with his arms and shifting from sandal to sandal. "Somebody needs to get the hook and drag him off."
"He announced they had accepted him as a member at the end of the year," I informed him.
His confused expression didn't abate. "How can that be?"
"I've only been part of this great group for a few months," McPherson said, his voice booming and ricocheting off of the crowd. "But already I've seen so much progress. Now and before. They've made numerous enhancements to Hawthorne during my time as Principal."
They're so vague
I thought. Everything they supposedly help with was aesthetic, like the ten foot tall Christmas tree they'd put in the town square last year, or the fountain that was bubbling in front of Hawthorne's steps.
It surprised me how much their kids were like props on the stage. Ambrose looked bored, Henry looked irritated and was leaning forward with his hands clasped between his knees. Only Lainey was preening, sitting up like a girl on a parade float paying rapt attention to McPherson's words. Birds flew overhead, cawing loudly. McPherson would not stop talking.
Finally, Phillip Rhodes stood up and took the microphone. His suit looked almost black in the noonday sun, with a yellow shirt beneath and a yellow triangle of a handkerchief poking out of his breast pocket. Like a wasp, stinging whatever he landed on.
"Hello, everyone," he began, with a charming, laser white smile. "I see some familiar faces, but many of us haven't met yet. I'm a native of Hell. We might have gone to school together years ago. I'm Phillip Rhodes, partner at Hesslebeck and Rhodes law firm."
The crowd had gone still, watching him, mesmerized. He was handsome, there was no doubt, and extremely charming. I also knew he could be a chilly jerk, which was why I wasn't so fond of him.
"I'm announcing today that I've been appointed the head of Thornhill. Though the original consensus was that we didn't need structured leadership, we want to be as efficient as possible. All of our committee members put it to a vote, and declared me the most qualified. I'm very humbled to take the position."
Hugh's jaw was set, the key jiggling worse than ever. He looked mad at Phillip's words.
"Second in command, as it were, is Cliff Ford." He swept his arm out, indicating Lainey's father whom I recognized from school conferences. He was the only one not in a suit, instead in a yellow and orange striped polo, open to show his chest hair. He waved a little. "Third is your own Principal McPherson."
That seemed even stranger. Not only was he a member, but one of the trio of leaders? That just couldn't be right.
"We've got a lot of exciting projects coming up. There are sign up sheets at the library, city hall, and around town where you can provide your email and be subscribed to our newsletter. We have big plans for Hell. And now, I'll be taking questions from the audience. But let's keep it brief so we can get back to the refreshments, huh?"
This made people giggle politely. It seemed like every hand shot up at once, the crowd growing taller with the extended limbs.
"You, sir." Phillip pointed to an overweight man in the front row, whose belly was pouching out over his shorts.
"It's been awfully hot this summer. And we've all been having trouble with our air conditioning. I get you can't do nothing about it for our homes, but what about at the grocery, and the city center? Can't you use some of that money to provide generators? Shouldn't you be prepared?"
"I understand your ire. Obviously, I'm not a meteorologist. Neither am I God. No one could have predicted this heat wave. We all know how wrong the weather forecast is. This has just been an unfortunately hot summer. But we'll discuss how to better manage cooling systems, and possibly provide those back-up generators you were talking about."
There were also complaints about lean crops, which he was equally dismissive about. I didn't blame him; there was nothing they could do about those, either. The town wanted him to donate money to the local agriculture to help make up for wasted crops.
"We all know about the unpredictability of Michigan weather," Rhodes said. "I remember as a kid, there'd be a five foot snow drift, and the next day it would be sunny enough to melt all the snow. But, again, that is another issue we can address as a committee."
This earned murmurs of agreement and laughter. Some kids let off their balloons and they took off into the air. I watched the round shapes become dots and disappear.
Then there were questions of where they put all their money. My question was, why were they buying up so many local buildings? But no one asked that; they seemed to enjoy the fact that they had pretty places to visit. From what I could tell, Henry was watching his father the entire time. The whole exchange was frankly pretty boring.
Sweat trickled down my back, pooling in my shorts. My legs were starting to ache from standing when we passed the hour mark. So much for hurrying to the refreshments.
"We understand your concerns, and we share them," Phillip continued. "Thornhill's mission is to help our town grow and prosper." His voice was even and comforting, but there was a condescending quality to it, like a father comforting a toddler. I wondered if others picked up on that.
I could definitely see where Henry got his charm from, though, but where Henry came off as genuine, Phillip came off as slick and untrustworthy, like a used car salesman. Something he had in common with Ambrose, whose father actually did own local dealerships. Mr. Slaughter was at the end of the stage, looking about ready to fall asleep. I had it on good authority that he had a loving relationship with Whiskey.
"What about the blackbirds?" a deep male voice called over the crowd. It took me a second to realize it belonged to my own father.
He was standing on his tiptoes. Probably just to be seen, but I got the image of a bear standing up to appear intimidating. His face was grave, as if to deliver bad news.
"What was that? I'm sorry, friend, can you repeat yourself?" Phillip asked, scanning the crowd for the speaker.
"What about all the birds, the pests that have been multiplying and destroying the lawns?" Hugh repeated slowly, using the same sickly patronizing tone Phillip had.
Claire let out an embarrassed gasp and pulled the brim of her hat down farther as people turned to stare at Hugh. I didn't miss the side-step she did away from Hugh.
"Can I have your name, sir?" Phillip asked flatly. He had located Hugh and was now staring at him. Other people had backed away a little, enough to leave our family exposed, out in the open.
"You don't remember me?" Hugh asked skeptically, with a cold grimace.
"No. I don't think so." Phillip said. It rung false.
Hugh's eyes narrowed to slits. "Hugh Donovan, in case you've become that senile in the intervening years. One of those old schoolmates you were discussing. We have more recent ties than that, but nevermind. And I was asking about the blackbirds. The starlings that have infested our town."
Phillip chuckled, his demeanor professionally cool. If he was irritated, he wasn't showing it. I looked at Henry and blushed. I knew he could see me, because he was watching Hugh, and he and my dad had been pals back in the day.
"There has been an influx of migratory birds, yes," Phillip said.
As if to prove Hugh's point, a huge flock of the birds in question flew across the assemblage, blocking out the sun. All eyes were riveted to the squawking birds as they flew up and away.
Hugh waited for them to veer off before he continued speaking. "A perfect example. It's not normal. Hot weather, lean crops, okay. But this is only limited to Hell. How can you act like it's just a fluke? Why not have the Audubon Society come? Or at least exterminate them, treat them like the pests they are?"
Phillip exchanged a quick glance with Lainey Ford's father, who had raised himself up on his backside a few inches from the chair but couldn't quite decide whether to jump all the way up. Ambrose looked like he was on the verge of laughter, Lainey looked like she was personally affronted, and Henry was flat, as usual. But he was still staring at us.
"What are you suggesting, some kind of chemical spill?" A few people joked, mocking Hugh, which only made him look more angry. Phillip continued, "We have a limited scope. There's only so much we're responsible for."
"Something is wrong," Hugh said firmly. "Whether or not anyone wants to recognize it. And all the infantilizing in the world isn't going to help us. You can't just hide behind the couch and hope the monsters will disappear."
"No one is hiding," Phillip said, sweeping his arms out. "We're all here. And I'll let you know that one of the biggest concentrations of birds is on my lawn, in my neighborhood. They're nothing but a nuisance. We've been talking to the city about proper containment options. These things just happen. And we don't want to do anything environmentally harmful. You just need some patience."
Hugh shut his trap, and didn't speak for the rest of the assembly.
We were the first family out of the parking lot. The instant the car doors shut, Hugh and Claire started fighting. And not just grumpy digs at each other; this was a brawl.
"Why would you antagonize Phillip Rhodes, in front of all those people? He's one of the biggest names in this town now." Claire was furious. Her cheeks were red from sunburn and embarrassment, her speech rapidly firing. She slammed down the center console after tossing in her sunglasses. "He has more money than God, and more respect than Mother Theresa. Everyone in town was there."
"That's exactly why I spoke up," Hugh said, eyes on the road. "Because everyone was there. Because it was a forum to be heard. Because Rhodes is an overrated jackass."
"It was supposed to be a celebration. That's why there were all the festivities. They don't offer cotton candy at a political debate. It wasn't a serious discourse, it was a carnival. You embarrassed our family!" Claire spat.
"Stop being so dramatic!" Hugh slammed on the brakes as an SUV pulled out in front of him. My torso jerked against the seatbelt. With a muttered curse, he yanked the wheel into the passing lane.
"I'm not being dramatic," Claire said, in what could only be described as a dramatic tone. "You caused a spectacle. It may not mean much to you to be the gossip of Hell, but it does to me."
"I could care less what Thornhill people think of me," he said harshly. "You shouldn't give half the crap you do. Do you think they'll actually ever accept you? It won't happen. You're a pedestrian to them, a pawn."
I cowered against the back seat, sliding my fingers across the seat belt. My eyes kept darting back between them, like watching a ping pong match. They argued sometimes, sure, but I could only count the number of full blown fights like this on one hand.
It was scaring me.
Jenna was sitting next to me now. It was almost like Jenna was my conscience or my shadow, the silent way she sometimes just was there. I became aware of her just before I turned and saw her.
"Ice cream all forgotten, huh?" she said.
I didn't want to speak, since I was supposed to be alone in the backseat.
"Just wait until they start using the D-word," Jenna whispered, watching my parents exaggerated gestures. "Divorce. That's when you have to start worrying."
They are not going to get a divorce
I thought with shock. It had never crossed my mind, not my parents. It was the norm for my friends, but Hugh and Claire were a single entity, impossible to separate.
"That's what I said about my mom and dad," Jenna spoke bitterly. I wondered how she could hear me since I hadn't spoken aloud. "Just because you think it won't happen, doesn't mean it'll stop." My fingers made deep dents in the leather.
I caught my own wide eyes in the rearview mirror, bouncing along with the bumps in the road. They looked bloodshot and fearful, yet very young, like the eyes of a frightened child.