This River Awakens (49 page)

The conference room door opened. ‘You can go in,’ Mrs Reynolds said.

Owen was alone with Thompson, looking ashen, in shock. Jennifer sat down beside him while Roulston introduced himself.

Thompson was quick to the punch. ‘I’m not sure I see your relevance here, Doctor. No offence, but this is a school matter, and a police matter.’

‘Jennifer is in my care, Mr Thompson. With her situation at home, I’ve assumed the role of guardian. Her mother has agreed to this in writing – you should have that in your records, by the way. As I understand it, this boy’s mother is on her way here. I will act for Jennifer in a similar capacity.’

Thompson’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’ll assume financial responsibility as well?’

‘I didn’t realise you’ve already concluded their culpability. Have you wrung out a confession from this young man, then?’

Thompson was silent, his expression belligerent.

‘Frankly,’ Roulston went on, ‘it seems to me rather naive to assume that these two are in any way responsible. They’re the intended targets, obviously. That, of course, is my point. It’s clumsily done, wouldn’t you say? Do you actually think they’d write their own names on the wall?’

The two cops arrived then.
Constable this, Constable that.
They sat down and listened quietly while Thompson talked – one of them listening, the other taking notes.

‘There have been difficulties with these two,’ Thompson said, indicating her and Owen, ‘all year, specifically with myself and their homeroom teacher, Miss Rhide, who was so upset by this incident that I sent her home for the day. It’s my belief that these two are the culprits.’

One of the cops faced Owen. ‘Did you spray-paint the wall, son?’

‘No.’

He then turned to Jennifer.

‘No,’ she said before he could even repeat the question. ‘We’re not stupid.’

The cop frowned, then he sat back and said to Thompson, ‘Any evidence pointing to them?’

‘Well, only what I’ve told you. Motive, I guess.’

Jennifer rolled her eyes. ‘This isn’t some crime show,’ she said. ‘It’s pretty obvious someone wants to get me and Owen into trouble.’

‘He can’t draw,’ Owen said.

The same cop turned to him. ‘Who can’t draw?’

‘The one who painted the wall.’

‘I think you know who that might be, don’t you?’

Thompson cleared his throat. ‘I remain convinced—’

Roulston rose and said to the other cop, ‘Why don’t the three of us talk in the principal’s office. Mr Thompson?’ He then laid a hand on Jennifer’s shoulder and leaned down slightly. ‘You’ll be fine here on your own for a few minutes?’

‘Yeah, no problem.’

The second cop, Thompson and Roulston left the room.

As soon as the door closed, Owen said, ‘I’m guessing, sir, and there’s no way to prove it.’

‘Lynk Bescher,’ Jennifer said, knowing her face was flushed with anger. ‘The little shit. He hates Owen, and he’s jealous ’cause we’re going together.’

Owen’s eyes were wide. ‘Lynk?’ he said. ‘I was thinking Gary.’

‘Who’s Gary?’ the cop asked, looking intrigued.

‘I had a fight with him,’ Owen explained. ‘First day of school.’

‘Owen kicked him in the balls. End of fight, end of Gary. Yeah, he hates Owen, too. But he’s even stupider than Lynk. Maybe they did it together. But Lynk’s the one, only he’s Rhide’s favourite—’

‘Rhide,’ the cop cut in. ‘That’s your teacher?’

‘Yeah,’ Jennifer nodded. ‘Lynk’s sucked her in. He’ll deny it, and there won’t be any proof.’

The cop sighed. He opened his mouth to say something but just then the door flew open and Owen’s mother arrived, her face dark.

‘Let’s go, Owen. You too, Jennifer.’

‘A moment please,’ the cop said, rising.

‘Sit down, sir!’ Susan snapped. ‘Take a minute to think things through—’

‘Wait!’ the cop said, holding up his hands. ‘I agree with you! We were just trying to work out who has it in for these two. So please, relax. Join us. Calm down, Mrs—?’

‘Brand. Owen’s mother.’ She unbuttoned her coat and sat down. ‘I’m sorry, but Principal Thompson seemed convinced—’

‘And clearly wrong. He’s very angry, of course—’

‘Not thinking straight, you mean.’

‘He’s with Constable Holmes right now, and the doctor.’

‘Holmes?’ Susan asked, a smile cracking through her fierce expression.

‘This is Constable Watson,’ Owen said.

The cop sighed. ‘I get it all the time. Not from thirteen-year-old boys, though. No, my name is Rawlins.’

Susan turned to Owen. ‘Who did it, then?’

‘We’re not sure. Maybe Lynk, maybe Gary.’

‘More likely this Gary boy,’ she said. ‘There was a fight early in the first term—’

Rawlins nodded. ‘So I hear. We’ll be talking with both boys. We’ll see how that goes.’

The door to Thompson’s office opened and the three men entered. The principal was scowling, but the set of his shoulders made it clear he was beaten. Roulston introduced himself to Owen’s mother – and Jennifer saw her raise her eyebrows when he told her he was acting on Jennifer’s behalf.

‘Well,’ Thompson said. ‘You two can go to your class now. If you’ll excuse me a moment.’ He went to the secretary’s office.

Susan eyed both Jennifer and Owen. ‘I’m taking you both to lunch,’ she said. ‘I’ll be by at noon, in the car, out front.’

‘We’re not supposed to leave the school,’ Owen said.

‘They can try and stop us. You need an hour out of this place. And Jennifer, I’d like you and your mother over for supper tonight.’

Jennifer grinned. ‘Usual time?’

‘Yes.’

Roulston was looking at Susan with renewed interest. Jennifer watched him rearranging things in his mind, watched the effect on his face.
Hope, excitement. Another ally. Yes, Doctor, we have friends. Real friends, now.

‘May I speak with you?’ he asked Susan.

‘Go ahead.’

‘Uh, privately. Just a minute or two.’

‘All right.’ She gave Jennifer and Owen quick, firm hugs, then followed Roulston out.

The PA announced that Lynk and Gary were to report to the office.

Jennifer took Owen’s arm. ‘Let’s go.’

Owen held back and looked at Rawlins. ‘Can’t I watch? I have a right to face my accusers—’

Rawlins coughed into his hand, then said, ‘Wrong right, son. Now, no loitering.’

Owen let his mother pull him from the room.

Mrs Reynolds studied them. Jennifer smiled. ‘All’s well,’ she said.

‘I gathered.’ She looked at Owen. ‘Like the Charge of the Light Brigade in here. They didn’t stand a chance.’

‘Well,’ Owen said, frowning. ‘The six hundred got massacred.’

Jennifer tightened her grip on his arm. ‘That’s because your mother wasn’t there. Come on.’ Out in the hall, she shook her head. ‘She was only being nice, you know. You’re so…’

‘Pedantic?’

‘Whatever.’

They passed Gary and Lynk on the way. While Gary looked scared, Lynk just grinned at them and mouthed
fuck you
as he walked by.

*   *   *

The substitute teacher provided a welcome, if slightly confused, change from Miss Rhide, and the morning passed without incident. It was clear to Jennifer that neither Lynk nor Gary had confessed to anything, leaving the whole thing at a standstill.

The cold-weather warning meant no recesses, forcing everyone to stay inside, their time spent on arts and crafts, and the walls seemed to close in. The air grew more stifling, and the teachers’ fuses got short. By noon, the smell of chaos was in the air.

Jennifer realised that the spray-painting had weakened the school’s authority, and somehow the students sensed it. No longer quite as docile as before, they started crossing lines. Detentions were being levelled on all sides. The substitute teacher looked completely bewildered.

Jennifer and Owen weren’t intercepted when they left the school at lunch-time. Susan was waiting for them, as promised.

‘We’re off to Riverview,’ she told them once they’d climbed into the car. ‘There’s a restaurant there—’

‘I know it,’ Jennifer said, lighting a cigarette. ‘It’s the only one.’

‘What a morning,’ Owen muttered.

‘Idiots,’ Susan said, pulling the car around.

Jennifer wondered what had passed between Roulston and Owen’s mother. A few months ago, she would have been furious, she would have felt betrayed and threatened. But now, it seemed like a relief. Others would say what she couldn’t say – no matter how much she might want to. Confessions didn’t seem to be part of her nature. There’d been little peace in her life. Just war, the battle endless. No time for introspection, no time even to relax.

Susan had changed that, and though Jennifer could barely admit it to herself, Roulston had changed things, too. He was stubborn – a match for her in that. He refused to go away, and now she had almost come to accept his presence, his involvement in their lives. Even stranger, she’d come to recognise that the doctor felt – truly felt – that he had something at stake, that it mattered to him. So far beyond the call of duty that Jennifer still had trouble trusting it. A sudden thought came to her as they approached the community of Riverview.
Maybe the good doctor’s got his own history, his own rattling skeletons. That would make everything make sense, wouldn’t it?

There were still secrets, and one in particular that she and Owen kept even from Susan.
Today,
Jennifer smiled to herself.
Owen’s found a place. A perfect place. Perfect in so many ways. Today, Susan, this afternoon, your son’s going to get laid.

*   *   *

Beneath the stage in the gym was a crawlspace. One half was blocked by horizontal rows of folded chairs that sat on tracks which allowed for each row to be pulled out or pushed in. The other half was crowded but not filled with the vinyl-covered foam mats used during Phys-Ed. Fifteen wood panels sealed the crawl-space from the rest of the gym.

It was 3.30. The school was quiet. Jennifer waited in the darkness for Owen. He’d been given a regime of remedial work by Rhide and it added a half-hour to every day, whether Rhide was around or not. He’d expected to finish early.

A shaft of light appeared from down by the panels. Owen crawled in and pulled the slab of varnished wood back into place. Hunched low, he hurried to her side. ‘Christ!’ he hissed, fairly jumping with excitement.

‘What?’

‘I went to the office,’ he said breathlessly. ‘To drop off the assignment. Mrs Reynolds wasn’t there.’

‘So?’

‘So, I heard Thompson in his office. He was on the phone. Talking to
Joanne.
’ He paused, waited.

‘Joanne? You mean Rhide?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Okay, so?’

Owen crouched down, looking around in the gloom. ‘Barry wanted to know if he could come over. He said, “Margaret took the kids to their grandma’s”…’

‘They’re having an affair?’ Jennifer almost squealed with laughter. ‘Ooh, Barry’s landed another one, and it’s Rhide! Holy fuck. It’s her!’

‘Another one?’

‘She’s not the first. When I was in Grade Four. Didn’t hear much. Too young to really get it. But a teacher had to leave. A kindergarten teacher. Real pretty.’

‘Wow.’ Owen sat down on a mat. ‘What an asshole.’

Jennifer giggled. ‘This is great. Fucking great. We’ve got the bitch.’

‘Huh?’

‘It’s called blackmail, Owen. She’ll have no choice. She’ll back off, leave us alone—’

‘No,’ Owen said, his voice hard. ‘No way.’

‘Why not?’ she demanded. ‘Has she played fair? No. She deserves it. I’m fucking going to use it, Owen.’

‘Don’t. Please, Jennifer.’

‘Why shouldn’t I?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel right. She’s not succeeding, anyway. She hasn’t changed us—’

‘Yes she has! She’s changed you!’

‘Stop shouting,’ he hissed.

She took a deep breath. ‘She’s changed you, a lot. I can see it, and so can your mom. Rhide’s made you … I don’t know, it’s hard to explain … she’s made you smaller. Inside. Smaller inside. Like she’s beating you down.’

He was silent.

‘I remember,’ Jennifer continued after a moment, ‘when I saw you for the first time. I was coming down, from acid. I saw this thread, a glowing thread over you. Your thread. It was so bright, so pure. It took my breath away—’

‘What thread?’

‘A thread. I don’t know. That’s what I saw. A glowing thread. Anyway, since I’m not dropping acid any more, I’ve never seen it again. On you, or on anyone else—’

‘Other people had these threads?’

‘Yeah. A few. You each had a different colour. Anyway, what I’m saying is, I don’t know but I think if I saw your thread again, it wouldn’t be, uh, as bright, not as pure, either. It wouldn’t be as strong – I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense, eh? But she’s changed you. And I want it to stop. I don’t want to lose you—’

‘You won’t.’

Jennifer threw up her hands. ‘Fuck,’ she sighed.

‘You mad?’

‘Frustrated. And scared, I guess.’

Owen moved closer and put his arms around her. She sagged against him, closing her eyes.

‘Walter Gribbs,’ he said, ‘the watchman at the Yacht Club—’

‘The one who died.’

She felt him nod. ‘Walter. Well, he said the same thing, I think. About me. He told me to hold on to myself. I’d been telling him about school—’

‘About Rhide.’

‘I guess.’ He was silent again for a few breaths. ‘I wish,’ he said quietly, ‘you could have met him. He liked you, liked hearing about you. I wish, well…’

‘Me too,’ Jennifer said. ‘He was right, Owen. What he said about you having to hold on.’ She stopped when she saw Owen wipe a sleeve across his face. ‘You okay? Owen?’

He nodded. ‘Sorry. I guess I miss him.’

‘Are you crying?’

‘I’m all right.’

Jennifer held him against her. He shook, but no sound came from him, none at all. After a minute he wiped his face again and moved back slightly.
Damn, I’m no good with crying.

‘Rhide has to back off,’ she said. ‘I can make her do that, now. If I spilled things, she’d have to leave. She’d have to quit.’

‘Why her? What about Thompson?’

She laughed harshly. ‘Forget it. That’s not how it works. Trust me, Barry’s staying.’