The Banks of Certain Rivers (41 page)

“I see.” Peggy says. She’s turned, like all of the
board members, so she can watch the screen up behind her.

“So then, like, if you go forward about four-and-a-half
seconds, that’s when he picks Cody up off the ground.”
The boy advances through the video, frame-by-frame as I lift Cody
Tate from the pavement, up to the moment I have my hands resting on
his shoulders. “Watch that…it’s almost one second
of footage in reverse, like this, check it out.” He scrubs
backwards through the frames, I hurl Cody to the pavement, and a
mother in the group exclaims
Oh my God
. “It looks like
the teacher totally grabs Cody and throws him for real, right?
Especially the way he holds his shirt right…there. If you
speed it up ten percent it seems even more realistic.”

“It does,” Peggy says.

“So we cut those together this way,” the boy says,
opening another video file. This one shows me running, spliced
together in a jarring cut with the reversed footage of me picking up
Cody Tate. “That version is still obviously totally fake. So I
put a blur filter over that transition…like this…then I
added shake into the frames, on top of the blur. So you can’t
even really tell there’s a cut there. After that we just took
the sound from when Cody hit the teacher, like how you can hear
everyone react with surprise, I just laid it over the reversed part
so it’s like they were reacting to him throwing Cody.”

The room is silent for a long moment, and Peggy rises and goes to the
door to flip on the light. “Can I ask one thing?” she
says, looking over all of the boys before turning back to the kid at
the computer. “One thing. Why? Why in the world did you do
this?” He doesn’t answer. “No, really, why did you
make this video? Did you have any idea what sort of impact it might
have on Mr. Kazenzakis?”

“I guess...I guess I just wanted to see if I could make it look
realistic,” the kid says. “It was challenging.”

“You made it look very real. Why wasn’t that good enough?
Did you think at all about the consequences it might have? Do you
have something against Mr. Kazenzakis? Do you even know him?”

The kid at the laptop points to the second row of chairs. “Those
guys know him,” Laptop Kid says, and a number of the boys hang
their heads and stare down at their shoes. “They knew I was
good with this stuff,” the kid adds. “They asked if I
could make something like this.”

“They asked you to make this,” Peggy says, her brows
narrowing. “And you did.” She turns to the boys. “How
do any of you know Mr. Kazenzakis? Is he a teacher of yours?” I
can’t get a good look at any of their faces, but what I am able
to see isn’t ringing any bells.

“No,” a voice says.

“Then how did this happen? Why did it happen? I want one of you
to tell all of us here what you told me and Officer Tran this
morning.”

“Well…there was…a fight,” a boy’s
voice says.

“Yes, okay. A fight. Why did this fight happen? Was someone
worried about something? Or was someone mad? Maybe both?”

“Both,” another voice says.

“Both.” Peggy crosses her arms. “Let’s start
with the worried part. Some of you were pretty worried about
something. What was it that you were worried about?”

“Those pictures,” a boy says, and I wonder if I am
imagining the sound of Denise Masterson’s parents shifting in
their seats behind me. “Tater showed us all some pictures and
we sort of freaked out because…I mean, we really freaked out
because he sent them around and we thought we would be in trouble for
having them. Because we thought they were like illegal.”

“So you beat up Tater. You beat up Cody Tate.”

“It wasn’t like a real beat down. None of us even asked
for the pictures. We didn’t want to see that stuff in the first
place. So we were pissed. And some of us thought it was pretty weak
that he would do that to Denise”—another rustling behind
me—“and we were pissed about that too.”

“But then you found out they weren’t even her.”

“Yeah. We were really mad when we found that out.”

“Okay. You were mad and worried. But why the video, then? Why
drag Mr. Kazenzakis into it?”

Another boy raises his hand to speak, a gesture I might find
endearing in any other circumstance, and Peggy says: “Go ahead,
Drew.”

“We made the video after the fight,” the boy named Drew
says. “Like, the next day, Cody told everyone the pictures
weren’t real. And he said something about how his dad was going
to have everyone prosecuted for beating him up. Because it was an
assault or something.”

“And you believed him?”

“I mean, it’s obviously such B.S. now, but when he said
it…he’s all rich, you know, his parents are totally
rich, so, yeah, I guess we believed it. So a bunch of us were hanging
out the next night and when we looked at the video, and it was like,
I don’t even remember who noticed the backwards thing, but we
were like holy crap, because we realized….”

“What exactly did you realize?”

Drew looks into his lap, and a man sitting next to him, his father
I’m assuming, says something softly into his ear. “We
realized we could make it look like the teacher did it. And I was
like but why would a teacher do that out of nowhere? Someone
remembered that he was tight with Denise somehow, her family, so it
would totally make sense that he would be mad at Cody. About the
pictures, I mean.”

“So you made the video.”

“We kind of made one, we tried, but it sucked so bad. It was
obvious how fake it was. Somebody called Craig”—he nods
to Laptop Kid—“and he came over and made one that was
unbelievably perfect. In less than an hour. It blew us away.”

“I just wanted to see if I could do it,” Laptop Kid adds.
“I didn’t really have anything against him.”

“Then why did you put it online?”

“Everybody puts stuff online,” the kid says. “It’s
just how we show stuff off.” Now Steve Dinks raises his hand.
When Peggy nods to him, he rises to his feet.

“Mrs. Mackie, I was at that party when the first one got
posted. The guys I was with didn’t know anything about the
fight then, the reason for it I mean. We just thought it would be
funny. We didn’t think people would believe it. We didn’t
even think that many people would see. Then it got out of hand, it
was just that first night and it was going around like crazy, crazy
how many views it was getting. So I made them take it down. I thought
if they took it down it would be over. But then a second video got
made, I wasn’t around for that one. It was just as bad, I mean,
just as bad for how fast people were sending the link around. And the
second video looked more real than the first. The second one got way
out of control.”

“We put the digital shake filter on the second one,”
Laptop Kid says. He sounds almost proud of it.

“Cody?” Peggy asks. “Did you have anything to do
with the video? Other than being in it? You didn’t make it, did
you?”

Cody Tate shakes his head no.

“Did you have anything to do with actually posting the video
online?”

Another shake of the head.

“You told me the video was real. You swore up and down to me
that was how things happened that afternoon. More than once. You told
the same thing to Officer Tran. Why didn’t you speak up about
it?” Cody Tate’s chin, I can see across the room, is
trembling, and his father looks livid. “Can you tell me
anything about this?”

“He was going to get a beat down for real if he ratted them
out,” a teen voice says, and another voice follows saying,
“Dude! Shut up!”

“Wait, who’s ‘them’?” Peggy asks. “In
this room? Cody, did someone threaten you about what the consequences
might be if you told the truth?” Cody Tate’s father says
something too low for the rest of the room to hear, and Cody, really
shaking now, looks up at Peggy and nods.

“There was that,” Cody says in a barely audible voice.
“But they had the real video of me hitting Mr. K. They said if
I told anyone what really happened they’d show the real video
and I’d be in—”

“Big trouble,” Peggy says in a measured voice. “You
think you aren’t in big enough trouble now? You could have
saved everyone here a ton of trouble if you’d just spoken up.”
Peggy shakes her head. “Mr. Kazenzakis most of all.” Stu
Lepinski leans to say something into Peggy’s ear, and Peggy
rolls her eyes.

“We need a little time to discuss this,” Gracie says.
“Can you all step out into the hallway? Everyone, please?”

“Neil, stay here,” Peggy says. Lauren takes a step toward
the door, and I shake my head.

“No,” I say. “Don’t go.” Gracie Adams
gives Lauren a look, and I add: “She’s here with me.”

The kids and parents file out of the room, and one of the Tate family
lawyers grabs my elbow and says, “Can we talk with you about
this after?” Pete Tran remains behind along with the union guy,
and Kent Hughes tries to stay too. Peggy thumbs toward the exit and
says, “Out of here, Hughes.” Kent leaves, and Peggy
closes the doors behind him.

“Neil,” Peggy says. “I am very sorry. About all of
this.” Stu Lepinski whispers something to her again, and Peggy
says, “Stu, the guy got screwed over. We can apologize to him,
don’t you think? We owe him an apology.”

“Mr. Kazenzakis,” Gracie says, insisting on speaking into
her microphone in spite of the fact I’m standing five feet in
front of her. “You are aware, I’m sure, that you didn’t
follow the correct procedure for dealing with a physical altercation
between students?”

“Are you kidding me?” I say, and Pete Tran actually
laughs.

“Gracie, seriously,” Peggy says. “Look, for Mr.
Kazenzakis, this is done. Neil, come back to work next week. Take
this week off, and come back Monday. If you’re going to sue the
district, have your lawyer talk to Stu. I really hope you don’t
sue the district, because we like working with you, and we like
having you here. We did what we had to do given the situation. I
think you understand that.”

“Of course I do,” I say.

Gary-whatever, the union rep who up until now has been sitting behind
me, gets to his feet. “I think the union’s going to want
to have some input on—”

“You guys hash it out,” I say, cutting him off with a
wave of my hand. “I don’t need to deal with it. To tell
you the truth, I think anything I try to say right now is going to be
nonsense, because I am completely exhausted.”

“I bet you are,” Peggy says.

“Are we done?” I ask. I look at them, and they look at
each other. “Keep the substitute for the rest of this week,”
I say. “I’ll be in on Monday. Kevin Hammil can cover
girls’ cross-country until I’m back. I’m sure he’s
been doing a fine job at it.”

“We’ll see you in a week,” Peggy says, and I take
Lauren’s hand and start for the door. “Gracie, do you
have anything?”

“Nothing for him. We need to discuss what’s going to
happen with everyone out in the hall—”

“Wait,” I say, stopping at the edge of the chairs. “One
thing. Do what you have to do with Cody Tate, but don’t expel
any of those kids, okay? Especially not the seniors. What they did
was stupid, but that’s all it was. Most of those guys are going
to college, I don’t want any of them screwed up just for being
stupid. Okay?”

“Mr. Kazenzakis, beyond the video, which was bad enough on its
own, there was a fair amount of deceit going on here. Intimidation.
They coordinated their stories—”

“Of course they did,” I say. “They’re kids.
They didn’t want to get in trouble. They got into their
stories, and the longer they went, the deeper it got. Trust me, I
understand this. More than you know. I also understand you need to
discipline them, but don’t expel any of them.” I pause.
“Here’s what you can do. Just have them post the original
video with an apology. That’s all I want.”

“Neil,” Peggy says, “you have to remember that some
of these kids were physically threatening Cody Tate if he said
anything. A threat of violence something we have to take seriously.”

“I understand,” I say. “You get to the bottom of
that part of it. If they broke the law, do what you need to do. But
the ones who were just involved with the video, even that jackass who
did the editing, go easy on them, okay? Go easy on Steve Dinks.
That’s all I’m asking you. Will you consider it while you
figure everything out?”

“We will, Mr. Kazenzakis,” Gracie Adams says. Strangely,
she looks like she means it.

All the kids out
in the
hallway turn to watch as Lauren and I leave the room. Leland nods,
and Steve Dinks approaches us. I’m so drained by exhaustion I
feel like I could fall to the floor.

“Mr. K.,” he says, keeping his eyes level with mine. “I
was telling the truth in there. I didn’t mean for it to get out
of control like that. I don’t think any of us did. I’m
really sorry.” He holds out his hand—a big move for such
a young guy—and I shake it.

“Thank you, Steve,” I say. “I appreciate you
speaking up.”

I really do.

Christopher is in the
kitchen when we get home, and he freezes in the middle of whatever it
is he’s doing over the stove when we enter from the garage.

“Well?” he asks.

“Everything’s fine. The video was fake.”

“I told you!” Chris says, pumping a fist. “It was
so fake. Are the people who did it busted?”

“Pretty much,” I say. “I’ll tell you about it
tomorrow.”

“Oh, Neil,” Lauren says. “You look so tired. Go
sit. Sit. I’ll stay and help Chris, if he’d like me to.”
Christopher nods.

“Sure,” I say. “Okay.” I hang my jacket on
the front closet doorknob and kick off my shoes, then sink into my
couch and close my eyes for what feels like an age. I hear low voices
from the kitchen; Lauren filling Chris in on the board meeting, I’m
imagining. I keep my eyes shut as someone drops to the couch next to
me; I can tell by the sound it’s my son.