More shouting and jumping from the students in the yellow vests.
The green team fell morosely quiet, as if the tourney really mattered. Two kids grabbed stray balls and started shooting hoops.
“Hey! Balls in.” Trent blew his whistle and caught everyone’s attention again. “That’s it! We’ll call it a day. So tomorrow is the dodge ball finals, and Wednesday we start martial arts.” Neither of the two sports were Trent’s favorites. He preferred canoeing and rafting and horseback riding, even snowshoeing, over indoor activities. But because of the blizzard and security concerns, they were stuck inside.
He heard a few boys on the yellow team taunting the losing team. “Enough! Now listen up. Pick up the balls and hit the showers!” A few of the younger kids on the green team tossed the balls into the cart, which they rolled into a closet while others took off at the speed of light to avoid any extra work. Finally, the kids who’d helped him ran off the court to catch up with their classmates.
As he locked the closet and was about to snap off the lights to the gym, Trent noticed Reverend Lynch standing in the doorway near the front entrance. He’d probably been watching all along. That’s the way it was with the school’s director, always observing or dropping into class unannounced. Usually he reminded Trent of Ichabod Crane from
The Legend of Sleepy Hollow,
but today, bundled in a ski jacket and insulated pants, he seemed less gangly as he strode across the gym.
“Mr. Trent.” Lynch smiled, though there was little humor in the lines of his face. He crossed the glossy gym floor in his boots, tracking water and snow.
Clueless.
“Do you have a minute?”
“Sure,” Trent said, though he felt a tightening in the back of his neck. This was the first time since he’d been hired that Lynch had searched him out. In the past, he’d been summoned
to the reverend’s private office, usually with a group of teachers. “Careful with the shoes.”
“What?” Lynch looked down and sighed, finally noticing the wet tracks. “Oh. Sorry.”
“What can I do for you?” Trent walked with Lynch into the wide hallway that was the main entrance to the building.
“I was told by Sheriff O’Donnell that you’ve been deputized.”
Trent gave a quick nod. “That’s right.”
“And you worked as a deputy for a sheriff’s department in Montana. That’s in your file.”
“Pinewood County.”
“Good. Well, then, it only makes sense. I think Blaine O’Donnell might want a few more deputies, and if he asks, I’m going to suggest Bert Flannagan and Kirk Spurrier. They’re already in charge of security.”
“No women?” Trent grabbed a folded towel from the cart near the shower room.
“Oh.” Lynch’s mouth twitched. “You’re right. Guess I’m old school, and I suppose that could be construed as sexist these days. Which, by the way, I am not. If push comes to shove, I think Dr. Burdette would make an excellent deputy.”
Trent wasn’t sure he agreed, but he kept his opinion to himself.
Lynch frowned and waited as Trent shook the folds from the towel. “So as things develop, I want you to not only report to the sheriff, but to me as well.”
“You?”
“You are employed by the school,” Lynch reminded him with the supercilious smile that bugged the hell out of Trent.
“I am, and I take my teaching job seriously,” Trent said, thinking of the information he’d already obtained in conversation
with detectives. Certain details were not to be spread around campus; it would compromise the investigation. “But the teaching gig is different from police work.”
“Of course. But I’m counting on you to keep me informed.”
Trent wasn’t one to sell out, even if he was on a payroll. “Tell ya what. If I find out anything that you, as the director of the school, should know, I’ll fill you in. But I can’t compromise the case.”
“Oh. Well, of course, I wouldn’t want you to do that,” Lynch said as a gust of wind rattled the double doors at the end of the hall.
Trent didn’t buy the minister’s pout—all that wounded integrity.
“I just need to be informed for the safety of the students,” Lynch explained.
Trent held the reverend’s gaze, knowing full well there was more to it. “I’m sure the sheriff will keep you updated,” Trent said, wrapping the towel over one hand.
Lynch’s beatific countenance shifted just slightly, and for a millisecond, Trent caught a glimpse of the calculating man behind the clerical collar. “We’ll be talking,” Lynch said. And with a few long strides, the reverend pushed open the heavy glass doors and disappeared into the night.
Trent took the towel and mopped up the gym floor, all the while considering the reverend’s request. There was something off about the guy. Not that he wasn’t pious enough; he didn’t seem a fake that way. It was just that Reverend Tobias Lynch seemed to enjoy the role of benevolent dictator a little too much. Nicholas II had Russia. Lynch had Blue Rock Academy.
Shaylee was right.
Edie wouldn’t budge.
“Blue Rock may be one of the best things that’s ever happened to Shay,” Edie said over a poor connection.
Jules leaned a hip against the desk of room 212 in the education hall and switched her cell phone to the other ear. She could hardly get a word in edgewise as Edie sang the praises of Blue Rock.
Reverend Lynch had assured Edie that Shaylee was doing “better than expected.” She was fitting in and had made lots of new friends, despite her altercation with one of the students. Though it was a tragedy that Shaylee’s roommate had died, Shaylee was “handling the extraordinary emotional challenge with spirit and bravery.” Edie had loved that.
Jules stared out at the snowscape as Edie droned on. Located on the second floor of the education building, her classroom afforded a view befitting a ski resort. This side of the building, housing the language and social studies departments, looked over the water. On the other side of the staircase, the math and science departments faced the rolling campus and the mountains. For a moment, she felt a twinge of guilt, pretending that she was off in another state just to keep her mother calm.
And Edie was definitely in her happy place today. After hearing so many negatives about her second-born, the fact that the head of a school was actually praising Shaylee had gone far to make Edie feel that her daughter was right where she should be. No matter that Shaylee, forever overly dramatic, was pleading with her to be set free; Edie felt good about her decision to leave her daughter under the watchful, caring eyes of Blue Rock Academy’s administration.
“So for now, Shaylee stays right where she is,” Edie insisted. “Even Max agrees. The roads are impassable anyway. When the weather warms up, we’ll reassess. If Shay still wants out and my attorney can meet with the judge,
then so be it. But for now, Shaylee will just have to buck up.”
“But she’s so unhappy,” Jules said.
“Shaylee is always unhappy, and I’ve been through this a million times. In fact, I just told her all this,” Edie insisted, then turned the conversation to Jules. “So, where, exactly, are you again?”
“Not far from San Francisco,” Jules lied smoothly, glancing out the window at the ice-glazed edges of Lake Superstition.
“Still looking for a job?”
“As it turns out, there are possibilities at several districts, at least for next year, so I’ll be here a while.”
“What about your cat?”
“No worries. My neighbor is taking care of Diablo and picking up my mail, so everything’s fine.”
“Good. Look, I’ve got to run. We’ll talk soon.”
“Okay, Mom. Take care.” Jules clicked her phone closed and locked it, a precaution she’d practiced since arriving at Blue Rock. Stashing her phone in her purse, she found her lesson plan and prepared for her last class of the day, the group of students from Cooper Trent’s pod, which included Shay. The subject was U.S. history, and according to the syllabus, the class should have been studying the years surrounding the Great Depression and comparing that era to the recent economic downturn.
The kids began to file into the room, some laughing and talking, others more reserved.
Shay, of course, brought up the rear, but at least she wasn’t alone. Lucy Yang, the girl with whom she’d spent the weekend shoveling snow and manure, walked into the classroom and took a seat next to her.
Progress? Had the girls bonded through the incident?
Jules hoped so.
She introduced herself for the fourth time that day, then broke the ice by saying, “I know this is a hard time for everyone. I didn’t know Nona, but I understand she was from your pod, so this must be particularly difficult for each of you. So, let’s kick back a little. We’ll catch up later in the week, but why don’t you tell me what you’ve been studying and bring me up to speed. As I understand it from Dean Hammersley’s notes and Ms. Howell’s syllabus, you’re working your way through the early nineteen hundreds.”
No one seemed interested.
She didn’t blame them.
They were under so much stress right now, and eighty years ago was ancient history to them. “Hey, I need your help.” A few heads lifted, a couple sets of eyes sparked. Jules managed a smile and saw that she’d caught some of her students’ attention. “I’m the newbie here, right? So, come on, help me out. We’re talking about the Great Depression, and as ancient as I might seem to you, I didn’t live through it, either.”
A few kids snickered. Good. A start.
She thought she’d see how this played out. Find out who the leaders were, who engaged, who didn’t. In her experience, the discussion would start slowly, with only one or two students offering anything up. Midway through the period, a few more kids would warm up to the discussion. Usually by the end of class time, most of the students would be engaged.
And so it was with the kids in Shaylee’s pod. When she asked if anyone could compare what was going on in the economy now to the years of the Great Depression, a few kids actually spoke up.
Lucy Yang, Keesha Bell, Nell Cousineau, and Ollie Gage were the most talkative, Ollie admitting that his father had lost his job in the dot-com crash, and Keesha worried
ried that her parents might have to turn their condo back to the bank. Shay kept her eyes on her desk, and Jules had to ask Chaz Johnson to remove his hood and stay awake. Although Maeve Mancuso kept her eyes down as she fidgeted at something under her sleeve, when called upon, she was able to answer a question. JoAnne Harris, aka Banjo, shared her sense of guilt. Though her family was doing well, she felt bad that her grandfather was scooping up foreclosed homes, kicking homeowners out, then renting the houses, sometimes to the same people, actually making money off of someone else’s misfortune.
“That’s really messed up,” Ollie said. “But it’s not on you. You know what I mean? Not your fault, Banjo.”
Eventually Crystal Ricci raised her hand. “So what’s really the difference between a depression,” she asked, looking more bored than engaged, “and a recession?”
“Good question,” Jules said. “Why don’t you tell me?”
Surprisingly, the kids suggested a wide range of answers, some of which led to more questions. Finally, with only ten minutes until the end of class, even Shay and Chaz gave up their ticked-off expressions and seemed somewhat interested.
Jules found herself loosening up a bit. If it hadn’t been for the violence that had been perpetrated on this campus, she might have even enjoyed herself. Yes, she would have had to deal with her conflicted feelings for Cooper Trent. Yes, she would be barraged by Shaylee to get her out of the school. And, yes, there were still unanswered questions about Blue Rock Academy and its practices. All those things were true, but she had always loved teaching and could see that many of the “problem” or “troubled” kids here were bright and insightful.
“It looks like we’re about out of time, so read chapter seventeen tonight. We’ll discuss it tomorrow, and we’ll get started on outlining essays. You can focus on any era
you’ve studied so far this term, so pick a time period and a social topic by Friday.”
“It would be a lot easier if we had e-mail,” Lucy complained.
“That it would. But we don’t, so you’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way.”
Crystal and Ollie groaned theatrically as everyone began to file out of the room. Keesha grabbed her books and hooked up with BD, who was waiting for her by the door. Once the kids had filed out, Missy Albright stepped into the classroom.
Shay, the last student in class to leave, cast a guarded look over her shoulder. Her eyes met Jules’s in silent warning:
Be careful!
Missy didn’t seem to notice as she set her purse on a side counter near Jules’s book bag. “Reverend Lynch assigned me to be your assistant,” she said in her tiny, falsetto voice that didn’t quite fit her body.
“Really?” This was a surprise. “He didn’t mention it to me.”
“He will. He just told me to come and talk to you, so here I am.” She gave an exaggerated shrug, the kind cute girls do when they are trying to appear even cuter and sweeter and more innocent. “Anything you want me to do—I mean, for tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow. Huh. To tell you the truth, I haven’t thought that far ahead,” Jules admitted, a little irritated that Lynch hadn’t clued her in first before assigning the girl as her personal aide. “I’ve seen what the previous teacher planned, but it’s a little dry. Lecture. Discussion. Questions. Test.” She glanced at Missy. “Pretty boring.”
“It’s history,” Missy said, as if that explained everything.
“I know and I’m just learning the ropes around here, not quite sure how I want to do things, but I’d like to make the class a little more interesting.”
“Good luck.”
Jules was already thinking aloud as she straightened the room, repositioning the desks into a semicircle that faced her desk. “Right now, this class is studying the nineteen thirties and the Great Depression. I think that’s a great opportunity to tie into what’s going on in the country today. I’d also like to make it real by studying day-to-day struggles. Real life in the thirties.”
“I thought you didn’t want it to be boring.”
Jules grinned a bit. “Okay, so give me a break. What if we came up with some kind of guessing game about life back then. Questions like, How much money did the average person make in a month? What did a loaf of bread cost? What movies were popular?”