The Trial of Susie Derkins
Chapter II: The Lecture
…
"It was so very easy for the parents who followed my mother and father to justify their actions- God, through my father, was preaching a means by which to ensure against rebellion via pre-emptive punishments which went past simple paddling and into the realms of the most heinous of child abuse. Food denial. Flogging for hours at a time. Being made to sleep standing up. Denying their children the restroom. Constant degradation. Ask any of the few who survived- they will tell you I am not exaggerating."
"The problem, aside from the blatantly obvious one of the punishments being eventually lethal in many cases, is that the man who advocated them was lying. I don't know how he justified lying about me to himself or my mother, and I certainly don't have any clue whatsoever as to what he hoped to achieve by advocating a system of abuse so cruel that the parents who subscribed to it happily handed over their children to strangers for the express purpose of beating them even more harshly. If he in fact hoped to achieve via this systematic breaking of the body and spirit a heightened reliance on God for peace and salvation, then he has failed, miserably."
"Many of the survivors now look at the bible as a manual of torture, not caring to read it for themselves, and who can blame them? For nearly all of them, their entire lives have centered around one basic principle- God wanted them to be hurt every day. Some clung to the belief there was a point, a reason for all the pain- that one day, maybe, a demon would fall out of them, and run screaming back to hell, and their punishment would end once this devil had been exorcised. Instead, they watched children like them die, abandoned by their parents to be demolished along with an abandoned torture factory. It is no wonder then, now seeing these words for lies, that so many of them have come to hate."
"The effects however, do not stop at mere maltheist complexes. This sort of treatment- punishment without cause, constant degradation by figures of authority, the preaching of lies by those who they were taught to revere as a figure of moral righteousness- these serve to make them anarchic by nature, seeing authority and law not as barriers to hold back the ills of a lawless society- but as chains, tight and gouging."
"My point, for those who prefer speedy reading, is thus: If you want your children, or anyone for that matter, to respect law and order, then reward and punishment must be meted out fairly. It is not unreasonable for one, regardless of age, to expect non-punishment as a reward for compliance with rules."
-Journals of Faith X, "Seeds of Maltheism and Distrust".
…
SEPTEMBER
"If I see one more worksheet of word problems, someone is going to be stapled to a wall, smeared with honey, and covered with ants."
Calvin bemoaned his workload to his feline friend as he worked on another night's workload. Hobbes, for once, had to concede Calvin had a point- the workload had long since ceased to use repetition as a means for memory reinforcement- now it was becoming monotonous.
It didn't help matters that the teacher demanded painstakingly detailed workings out of the problem by hand, and was notorious for deducting points for insufficient scratchwork- Calvin had gotten every problem correct on his last homework assignment, and his teacher, a Ms. Kalen, had deducted points from his shorthand working outs enough that his grade was reduced to an 80, injustice enough that it had prompted an incredulous call by Calvin's mother to complain about the lunacy of such a system.
"It's like mom said," Calvin grumbled as he finished the last problem with nearly a quarter page of redundant working out of steps, "we're being assigned math problems, not writing damned novels."
Hobbes looked over some of the required work-showing. "So she's making you rewrite the division equation each time you subtract a digit?"
"Yep."
"Does she-"
"Give a reason? 'It's so you learn to appreciate the methods of math step by step. Quality and quantity, quality and quantity,' over and over and over she chants that, even during tests, for God's sake." Calvin shoved the work into his pack with disgust. "I don't have to put up with this in any of my other classes. Sure, there's a lot of work, but it makes sense." Calvin stretched.
Hobbes held back a smile. While Calvin's work ethic had undoubtedly improved, his tolerance for inane busywork, or arbitrary teaching methods, had declined further.
"I mean, look at this shit! Ten pages of just plain scratch work, all to satisfy an arbitrary personal requirement of busywork. Side by side with other assignments- English book report- if this same principle of microstep-by-microstep over-analysis was applied, I'd have to report on what kind of paper the author used, his ink preference, give a detailed explanation of the publishing process-"
"I get it, Calvin. It's mindless drudgery and she needs to be hung by her thumbs." Hobbes could not keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
"I'm not asking for her to suffer, be fired, or even be chewed out publicly for this- I just think if I'm expected to do three hours of homework a night- one and a half being dedicated to this- I should be able to expect a level of professionalism that goes above assigning me the academic equivalent of Chinese water-drip torture."
Hobbes decided it was time to turn Calvin's attentions away from his infamous rants of the ills of busywork homework. "So any more word on Moe and Joe?"
Calvin smiled the nasty little smirk that was his trademark 'Those who have wronged me paid dearly' smile, one of the few signs he was getting better. "In jail, awaiting trial, not my problem anymore."
There was a slight slumping of his smile, the slow turn into a contemplative frown. "That just leaves R.A.W."
"Any word?"
"No arrests. They're still deciphering the computer stuff and that Fox kid is helping them- personal vendetta and all. It has been suggested to me, by several men and women bearing FBI badges, that I refrain from doing the whole "raid a heavily armed compound" thing again."
Hobbes was loathe to say it but- "But if you hadn't done that-"
"They think it was Jason who did it." It wasn't a complaint, it was a statement of the facts. "As far as the records are concerned, I provided cover fire, moral support to the kids, and scrounged up supplies during that incident, and really I'd prefer to keep it that way."
Hobbes watched his human companion clench and unclench his right hand, an exercise done to relax his sore hand after math assignments.
"And Derkins?" he inquired.
"She's doing fine. The charity went off without a hitch. It's dying down now, and she's not milking it at all, so she's doing pretty good."
"I heard she gave you quite the exclusive."
Calvin shrugged. "She gave interview answers to a lot of people."
"But she saved the best for you…"
Calvin stayed silent as he realized the implications of what that might mean.
…
It was generally a teacher who wanted Calvin to stay after and not the other way around, but Calvin had reason this time to bother with the extra minutes.
Before him sat, with crossed armed, a stark black and white blouse, and short blonde hair, middle aged woman named Mrs. Kalen, who was, in the opinions of quite a few students, went beyond the stern teacher approach and into the belief that her classroom was some sort of private dictatorship.
He flopped the homework assignment that had taken him an hour and a half to complete on her desk- a 70, even with all the answers correct. She gave him a look that reflected the kind of reaction one might expect if Calvin had thrown steaming dog crap on her desk instead.
He shoved a hand into his pocket, clicking a tape recorder on. If it could serve him well against corrupt police…
"So, having followed your directions to the letter, having spelled out every digit change, addition, subtraction, and noting what formulas I used, after having a full ten pages, front and back, of showing my work, and still getting docked thirty points, I think I'm entitled to ask: what the heck do you want from me?" Calvin would ordinarily use more respect, but this woman was, for all appearances, trying to play the role of the impossible-to-please superior, and her condescending glare-down-her-nose manner wasn't helping his opinion of her one iota.
"It's the tone of the work I took off for." She replied, and gave no further comment, apparently satisfied with her answer.
"The tone?" Calvin asked, surprised.
"I can see where you pressed harder on some calculations than others with your pencil. I can see… hate, here-" and she jabbed at problem 7, as if there were some damning blot that only she could see- "-where you nearly poked through the paper. You resent learning and authority, Mr. Halgins. It is evident, it is deliberate, and I will not tolerate it. The grade stands."
Calvin was hoping he heard incorrectly. "You're docking points because you interpreted my sharpening a pencil or emphasizing a line or number as resentment? How on earth do you get off deciding any change in pencil strokes is resentment enough to dock points?"
"Your childish resentment of authority is evident in everything, Mr. Halgins, and until your attitude improves your grades won't."
Two and two clicked together.
"You're docking points because you don't agree with what I write?" Calvin's exasperation made his head hurt, a throbbing in the back of his skull as he tried to decipher her logic. "What the hell did I write to tick you off?"
"It's not a single piece, Calvin, it's the attitude as a whole- the defiance of authority you advocate. The 'just do enough to get by' work ethic you exhibit in your work."
"Defiance of authority- you mean the stuff I wrote on my private blog about Rod and Whip? Have you read any of the reports done on their facility? They freaking killed children! And as for the 'just do enough to get by', news flash- I have other subjects besides math. I got all the problems right before I tried your extended working out method, so logic dictates I am doing something right." Calvin rubbed his temples. It was like having to debate the color of the sky with someone who insisted on wearing orange-colored glasses. "I guess I'm asking how my personal, non-school related blog ties into my grade. Is there some ruling in the school rulebook that allows you to knock off points whenever you disagree with me?"
"I am the teacher here, Calvin." She snipped, again doing the looking down the nose glare. "I am allowed a measure of authority."
"So, you're willing to go with me to the principal and explain this penalizing me for my off-campus writings- non-threatening and unrelated to school- and you're sure he will take your side?"
Kalen smiled. "Absolutely."
…
Deetra Kalen walked beside Calvin Halgins into principal Spittle's office, the elder, wizened man regarding them both with a critical eye.
She knew from the moment Calvin had laid the paper on her desk with a look that betrayed his decreasing patience with her methods that it would ultimately come to this- seeking out a higher authority as an arbiter. She also knew that Calvin had recently gained the ear of the school with his antics at some boot camp, the evidence of which was solid enough to lend credit to his testimony.
Perhaps if he were more humble, more subdued like a proper child, she would find his actions more endearing. As it was, he was using the momentum that incident gave him to push a subtle agenda of advocating rebellion against authority, against methods that were necessary to enforce discipline.
The students were not alone in their critique and bucking of her methods of teaching, which focused on minute detail and explaining each step in showing one's work. Her docking of points for each skipped step- those not explicitly detailed on paper- had recently become a point of interest in the teacher's lounge. The responses had ranged from polite insinuations that her techniques were just going to exasperate her students, to out and out accusations she had a sadistic streak.
She was trying to make the lazy children of the day work, go the extra mile, and they were calling her sadistic. It was a word thrown around a lot nowadays.
That being said, if they wanted her to play the villain, she was happy to oblige. It was obvious that Spittle, strict and unflinching as he was, would never condone her methods of grade penalization to silence outside ideas. There would be no twists, no spins she could put on it to justify docking points for Calvin's blog that he would accept.
So she would go for a different approach.
"Is there a problem?" Spittle's voice was one of impatience, the sort of "do not waste my time" tone that reflected a heavy workload.
"Yes. I offered Calvin a minor point deduction as a lenient penalty for his recent cheating on homework by copying from another student's right before class, but he pitched a fit about how unfair the work was and how I had no right to punish him. I was hoping you could clear matters up." She put the homework she had graded a 70 on his desk.
Spittle glare shifted to Calvin. Kalen smiled, turned to look at Calvin, who was probably about to crap his-
Calvin looked back at her, slowly, a very tired, agitated look in his eyes. "Do you seriously want to do this? Making false accusations in front of your boss?"
Bluffing. Had to be. "I offered him a way out, a way to redeem himself." She found her voice after but a second, choosing to address Spittle, as if Calvin wasn't there. "But he went off on his usual rant about too much work and 'teacher tyranny'. I'm thinking zeroes on his homework assignments thus far and an essay on the value of studying would be in order, unless you think differently."
Spittle's gaze locked on Calvin. "Do you have anything to say?"
"Well," Calvin said, sighing, shaking his head. "I don't. Not personally… but a friend of mine does-"
And he pulled out a recorder.
For several, agonizing minutes, she listened in mute horror as her conversation with Calvin was played back in detail. Spittle's expression did not change as his gaze locked on the recorder for the duration of the playback.
She became aware of her jaw trembling as it ended.
"Calvin, thank you for your time. Go to class." Spittle spoke without a trace of emotion, save for the barest hint of irritation. Calvin shrugged, left without a word.
Only once they were alone did Spittle's look shift from the door to Kalen.
"You had better have a damn good explanation for this."
"I was trying to get him to stop being so cynical-"
"By taking off points for something he wrote outside of class. I'd like you to know I keep tabs on his blog, Ms. Kalen. Make sure he's not slandering or threatening the school or any of its employees. He hasn't. Not yet." He held up the tape. "But this… this violates so many ethics and so many policies it makes my head spin. He has a tape with you, threatening to keep on docking points until he stops…" Spittle held his head, confused. "What was it you were trying to get him to stop doing, anyway? Pressing too hard on his paper? Writing about a tragic event he was witness to?"
"He's advocating rebellion, sir. I can see it in his work, how he's pressing the pencil so hard it's like he wants to stab something."
"Did he get the correct answers? Did he show his work?"
"That's not the point, he's resenting-"
"No, that is the point. You asked him to do more work. He did it. Then, you tell him not liking the extra work is enough to dock points. If he had written something on here, like "this is shit, this is completely pointless", or been outright insulting, then yes, I could see docking some points as a disciplinary measure. As it is, you openly stated you're punishing him for two things- your interpretation of his workmanship, and his completely non-school related blog. Or, at least, was non school-related. If he writes about this- which he has a right to- I'm going to be asked some very uncomfortable questions."
Spittle took a breath, then looked her in the eyes. "You seem to take a great deal of leeway with your interpretations of people's actions, so let me tell you what your actions say. The work you demand- and I have heard complaints from students and teachers alike- goes beyond mere reinforcement and into the bizarre. Yes, students must show their work, but you have gone to an extreme- so much, in fact, that one begins to question whether you mean to educate or antagonize your students because you have decided to paint them all with the broad stripe of 'lazy'. That you continue to penalize Calvin for his interpreted tone- and his blog, which recently consisted of his reporting on a death camp for children and a student's charity work- speaks volumes about your willingness to abuse your authority to censor a student."
Spittle spoke again before Kalen had a chance to speak. "If you had even had the spine to be direct about your complaints, we could have worked something out. As it stands, you seemed to understand your argument didn't hold water, and instead tried to frame Calvin for cheating. That's the nail in your coffin, Ms. Kalen. Cowardly backstabbing. I want your belongings off the school campus by the end of the day."
…
Spittle absorbed, with practiced indifference, Kalen's shouted blasphemies, her insinuations of pedophilia as to his relationship with Calvin, the slamming of his office door, her shouted hopes for him to get cancer.
Pity failed to rise within him. Calvin had, for the longest time, even when he had transferred to this Junior High, been thought a lost cause, a brilliant but lazy child who lacked discipline enough to succeed. Now he had turned it around, in a morbid sort of metamorphosis via the threat of boot camp, which lead into the Grindstone incident. While he would have had no pity or remorse punishing Calvin were the accusations of cheating legitimate, Kalen's antics demonstrated poor judgement and exceptionally poor moral fiber. The idea was to reform the slackers, Spittle believed, not to alienate them entirely.
Still, while he was appreciative of Calvin's newfound work ethic, the changes he'd seen were not wholly assuring. There was a loss of something, the spark in the boy's eyes a little dimmer. No pranks or antics. He had heard that Calvin had tried, among others at the compound, to provide emergency medical relief to many of the injured children, but many had died nonetheless. God only knows the sort of psychological effect that would have on a still developing mind.
It struck Spittle that for someone who had been targeted for kidnapping, then instigated a rescue mission, and recently was recovering from being shot, Calvin, regardless of his less energetic, more somber composure, was handling himself well. Yes, there had been the teacher's report of Calvin giving a sobering lecture on what he felt on the first day of school- a non-too subtle rebuke of those who thought his actions were akin to some video game. But that was to be expected of Calvin, a brutal, unflinching opinion of a situation. And now this, a teacher openly trying to censor him for writing about the experience because of a bizarre interpretation of his works being anarchic in nature.
Spittle wasn't sure if there was a formula to drive a child insane, but he was relatively certain that Calvin's experiences were driving him closer and closer.
He turned to the task of finding a substitute teacher when another knock at the door got his attention.
"Enter." He said simply.
In through the door came a portly man- probably late 50s, graying hair and beard. He dressed well, a suit more appropriate to attending a formal event than speaking to a principal of a junior high. A spark of familiarity struck Spittle, that he had seen this man before.
"Do I know you?" Spittle asked when the man didn't say anything after a second, clearly expecting recognition.
The man's grin turned to a frown briefly. "I'm Brian Marrin." When Spittle failed to understand the supposed significance of that name, the man continued. "Judge Marrin?"
"Ah," Spittle recognized the man finally as the subject of much debate in recent years. Judge Marrin was, as he described himself on TV, a 'good ol' boy' from Texas, who had migrated to Ohio to get out of the heat. The man had gained a bit of notoriety in some of his rulings, which, if not cruel, were at the very least unusual. One recent case involved a boy who was accused of theft, sentenced to community service while wearing a sign that indicated him as a thief.
It was one day after the sentence that the store found security footage that proved him innocent, but Marrin had suppressed the evidence (some said using bribery and his influence) until the boy had served his sentence. When confronted about it by the boy and his parents, Marrin had, with an uncommon pretentiousness, said that "the boy needed exercise and humility anyway, so no harm done." This did not take into account the legal fees the family had to pay, apparently, and denied any sort of restitution. The fact the family was Hispanic also called into question whether Marrin was racist.
How he had avoided being kicked off the bench after that was attributed to the fact that the boy's family was too poor to afford further legal pursuits. More worrying however, were stories of an older event- rumors, really, vague and untrustworthy- that Marrin had, while in Texas, sentenced a father to die for a murder he did not commit. When evidence came out proving the man's innocence, Marrin allegedly went after the mother, who was convicted and sentenced to death, given the express lane to the electric chair. When evidence proved that the mother had nothing to do with the case, Marrin not stalled compensation to the surviving child, but went after him, reportedly using bribes to have the child arrested every other week. The motivation behind this bizarre campaign of legal abuse was, allegedly, that the family was black.
If not for the recent bizarre actions with the wrongly-accused boy, Spittle would have dismissed these rumors as just that. Even now they smacked of retaliatory mud-slinging. But still the man broadcasted a certain malaise that left him on guard.
"Ah, yes. I've heard of you." Spittle said simply, adopting a neutral tone. "May I ask what we owe this honor too?"
If Marrin had heard the subtle sarcasm, he showed no sign, instead swelling with a sort of pride that reminded Spittle of some sort of horrific chimera of peacock and pustule. "I had a favor to ask." There was an accent, Texan, that hinted at southern hospitality, but gave Spittle no ease.
"That would depend on the feasibility, of course, but let's hear it." Favors always put Spittle on guard, even that Derkins girl's smile had not been able to disarm the inherent alarum that a request for favors evoked in him.
"I have a friend who has heard about the recent event at this school-"
FUCK!
Did Calvin move that fast? He had just left a damn minute ago, there was no way the boy could have fired off a blog about-
"-the charity drive, run by, uh… Deekins?"
Spittle let the breath he had sucked in slowly ease out through his nose, so as to avoid showing that he was relaxing, or that he had reason to panic in the first place. "Oh, yes. It wasn't so much a school event you see- we had a good deal of volunteers from this school, but my role in it was limited to authorizing fliers to be handed out." He began to breathe normally again. "Anyway, your friend…?"
"A Mr. Highweller, fellow judge, old college friend of mine. He wants to speak at the school at your earliest convenience. A lecture on children's duty to their government and the law."
"Mr. Highweller… the same one who runs that reality court show where the judge breaks a gavel every other show?" Spittle raised an eyebrow. "I fail to see how a charity drive and that sort of lecture are related."
"Oh, he hasn't given me the details, but the gist seems to be that the lecture will be about if more people asked what they can do for others than what they can do for themselves, then the world would be a better place."
There was a rapid, practiced jibe to how quickly that came out, as if rehearsed, false. Maybe it was a habit of Marrin's to rehearse these things in his head. "With all due respect, seeing as how records indicate every student that wasn't sick showed up, I daresay they get that already. Those who were sick had friends or family drop off donations."
Marrin fixed him with a critical eye. "Every student?"
Spittle adjusted himself in his chair. "Well, with the exception, of course, of a recently expelled student."
"Oh, yes. I heard about that. Moe and Joe Caldern. Arrested for attempted extortion and murder of a minor. A student that goes to this school, correct? The very same who wrote your school paper's article about the same charity event?"
"You've done your homework. Yes, Calvin Halgins."
"Well, back on topic, he feels that these students would benefit from him speaking, to help dissuade some of them from becoming more tragic cases of extreme self-entitlement. Like the Moe boy."
Spittle narrowed his eyes. "And he's choosing this school because of the recent charity drive? Preaching to the choir, much?"
"Well, with all due respect, Mr. Spittle, I know-" and he said the word with all the air of one beginning to state a scientific fact- "-that unless reinforced, children who do one or two good things start to get a sense of entitlement: that they have privileges above everyone else, that one good deed means they can be morally and ethically lax."
Spittle blinked. "So, you're saying that students who have done things that benefit the community are far more likely to become like Moe?"
"Well, not all at once, but without being reminded of their place…"
Spittle sighed, baffled at the lack of logic. "Sir, I have heard something strikingly similar to this argument before, from an agent of Rod and Whip who was put on standby to escort Calvin to a boot camp if his grades did not improve- you may know Rod and Whip as the 'Grindstone' camps under fire in the news nowadays. The man tried to abduct Calvin despite him meeting his parents' standards, and brought, among other things, a firearm to aid in the kidnapping. I'm sorry, Mr. Marrin, but the last thing these kids need at the moment is another person talking down to them."
Marrin's face froze into a cold glare. "I see. I'll be speaking with the superintendent, then." Without another word, Marrin flung open the door, letting it slam against the wall harshly.
A grown man, a judge, and he was still throwing temper tantrums.
Spittle wondered silently how many people actually earned their jobs via merit as opposed to clerical error nowadays.
…
Marrin made a quick call as he got into his car, still fuming over the denial. Where was the sense of respect being a judge once held? The man hadn't even bothered to stand up to greet him…
"Simon, we've got a problem-" he spoke when the line picked up.
"He refused." Simon's voice, old and impatient, too much like that man's Spittle's, held in it regardless the calculated acceptance of a minor annoyance. "No matter. Go ahead and speak with the superintendent, Jeremy Goffels. Remind him he owes Judge Highweller a favor."
Marrin snapped out of his mood long enough to comprehend this. "You have an Ohio superintendent that owes you a favor?"
Highweller gave a low chuckle. "I have plenty of people who owe me favors. You should know that."
There he was again, rubbing the facts in his face. It had been Highweller's connections that had saved Marrin twice. Now he was calling in the repayment in the form of setting up this lecture. It sounded so… bizarre. Why Highweller was so focused on this one school, had focused on some random child's charity drive was beyond him, but then again Highweller was a secretive old bastard who explicitly informed him not to ask questions.
"Right. The super. Who else?" he knew it couldn't be that easy, just asking for permission to do a lecture.
"There's only one other person I need you to speak to…"
…
Joe Caldern stared at the ceiling of his cell. The food was awful. The prisoners were murderous to the point he had several close calls already, a wound on his left side, recently dressed by the prison doc, testified to this. They hadn't found out that he was an ex-cop yet, but that would only last for so long- once they did, swift death would be a best case scenario.
The bastards couldn't even give him something to hang himself from.
"Caldern, you've got a visitor." A guard, the same that had stood by and snickered while Caldern had to strip for the showers, somehow managed to slip a sense of contempt and general revulsion into every syllable uttered at a prisoner. In other times, it would be something Joe would admire.
Led out of his cell down a gauntlet of jeers, the nagging reminder returned to Caldern that even with as much hostility as he'd been shown, no one knew he was an ex-cop, much less one that shot a kid. Solitary confinement looked better and better each and every day.
The man he was lead to see, behind bulletproof glass, his only audio connection being a telephone, was one he didn't recognize, at least immediately. It wasn't his attorney, the man looked too successful, too confident.
Joe picked up the receiver. "Do I know you?" He was, for one of the few occasions in his life, polite. Maybe there was something the man could do- even if it was just slip him a cyanide pill.
"No, I don't think we've ever met. I'm Brian Marrin. I work with the Newden city courts on these sort of matters: police and civilian conflicts. Heard you got yourself involved in a… misunderstanding." There was the silent wink-and-nod geniality.
Misunderstanding. Yeah, that was one way of looking at it. How was Caldern supposed to enforce the law if his badge didn't command respect from everyone? The Calvin punk was a bad seed, and he needed to be afraid whenever he saw a cop car. That, or buried in a ditch somewhere.
"You could say that." Joe conceded.
"Now, normally, you'd have the home-court advantage, but uh, certain sensitive documents- namely that boy's recording and your police car's camera are going to sink any "it was a weapon's misfire" argument you could make. However…" and the man gave a small smile. "If, by chance, some tampering was 'found' on the video, then the main evidence against you is suspect, and we have a little breathing room, even with the audio recording."
It would be a miracle, really, if a judge ruled that the video recording had been tampered with. "Yeah, that would help, but how would we convince her? She already hates me, denied me bail-"
"Him." Marrin corrected. "New judge is going to oversee your trial- from what I heard, there was some concern as if she would be fair and impartial."
Caldern looked up. "Really? Who's the new judge?"
Marrin smiled. "Me."
…
Susie Derkins had felt the fame die down as the prestige of being a part of a charity faded from the student body and the collective grind of their daily duties returned to them, but she hardly cared. Yes, being recognized for the deed while it was in progress was nice, but she didn't expect them to worship her.
Her homework lay before her, finished. During the charity event any and all free time had to be devoted to the planning and organization. Now, having by necessity learned efficient ways to finish the busywork she had, she found herself with free time.
She got on her laptop, decided to browse for a bit, starting with her email. It took, as she had expected, a while to load.
She hadn't expected this many responses.
People, a few across the globe, had praised her act as one of selflessness and generosity. Pastors had commended her on not only the nobility, but the efficiency with which the event was run. Known atheists had commented that she had focused hardly on preaching and more on the practical issues that plagued homeless and poverty, mentioning in their mail that they wished more acted like her.
The email finished loading, and she decided it wouldn't hurt to read some of the messages…
Then she noticed all the news ones had very different headings than the prior ones.
"You aren't fooling us, Derkins".
"Dear Whore of Babylon".
"You fake little tramp".
She clicked, out of morbid curiosity, on the "You aren't fooling us, Derkins" letter.
You act like you're an obedient kid, and maybe you've fooled your city, but there are those who see past your lies. You are trying to preach a message of deceit, making the world believe that you and the other young thugs and sluts who helped you with your ruse are all flawless, law-abiding, harmless children.
But we know better. You have done this as a cover for a crime, or because you think it will absolve you of something you've done. Rest assured, Susie Derkins- God is not mocked. You will be judged for your lies.
For a moment, Susie stared, then clicked on the other messages. Many were none too well written, all caps writing with misspelled curse words calling her a whore and a liar, telling her how she would burn in hell for trying to cover up her crimes. Some called the charity drive an 'act of rebellion coated in sugar', or 'a subtle undermining of the holy authority that keeps you punks in check'. Some her virus scanner detected viruses on- those she deleted.
Letter after letter containing sheer vitriol, as opposed to all the praise. The addresses were scrambled letters, numbers and symbols- she was no hacker, but she knew those were throwaway email accounts.
Rather than feel threatened, or upset, the first thing that Susie felt was confusion. How in God's name would anyone possibly interpret her charity drive as a cover-up or an act of anarchy?
For a moment, she wondered if she should report this to her parents, or the police… then it hit her. Internet trolls. Lifeless losers, looking to sling crap around. Hoping she would act like a drama queen, go on TV crying, begging for them to stop. Desperate for a response, to siphon off some of the fame she didn't really want in the first place.
She summarily deleted all the emails, shrugging. Of course there would be some who, realizing they had done nothing that wasn't for their own benefit, would lambast her, and what better way to go about it than bizarre pseudo-Christian insane troll logic?
"Sorry, folks." she spoke as the offending emails were erased. "The show's over."
…
The announcement for all students and teachers to drop what they were doing and proceed to the auditorium was unexpected, to say the least. The obvious consternation in Spittle's voice did little to give Calvin any peace of mind as he made his way through the halls.
Bomb threats? Aftermath of the Ms. Kalen incident? Vandalism? There were plenty of rumors circulating by those who cared enough to make gossip.
As students found their seats, Calvin taking an isle seat, he noticed Spittle standing beside three people, looking absolutely pissed- his normal frown was a facial-crack grimace. Whatever was happening, it was not to the man's liking.
The other three Calvin recognized in short order.
Jeremy Goffels, the school superintendent. All talk, no action, but relatively harmless.
Brian Marrin, a judge noted for his recent injustice committed towards an innocent suspect in the name of teaching 'humility', looked pleased with himself. Calvin had heard the details- a boy was suspected of shoplifting, convicted, sentenced to public service-slash-humiliation. While evidence was found one day after conviction that proved his innocence, Judge Marrin suppressed the evidence until the sentence was served, saying that the exercise and lesson in humility was benefit enough to not warrant compensation. It was rumored that, to add insult to injury, he made the boy write an essay on what he learned about a work ethic and humility, and Calvin made a note to try and confirm whether or not that was true.
Theories as to why Marrin would do such a thing abounded, that he was on a power trip was the most common. Calvin had an additional theory, judging by how Marrin's past sentences and dealings with Non-Caucasians had gone-he was a racist bastard who enjoyed kicking around anyone who's skin wasn't pale enough.
Then there was Simon Highweller, also a judge, the best description for which would be a bald, glaring incarnation of mean-spiritedness. He dressed casually, as opposed to Marrin's fine clothing.
Highweller's sentences on juvenile offenders were harsh even when compared with Marrin's, but the worst attacks Highweller reserved for the few who dared to contend their charges. Verbally lambasting, making ad hominem attacks, and charging those who stood their ground with contempt of court, he went one step further by launching smear campaigns against those who got away- a girl who was charged wrongly with drug abuse, having proved her innocence with a drug test, filed a lawsuit over fliers that were soon distributed soon afterwards, describing her as a drug addict in need of rehabilitation, a violent offender, and openly discouraging businesses to hire her.
For these actions, Highweller was considered among even the so-called "hanging judges" to be ill-tempered and sadistic. While Calvin had learned to treat the rumor mill with suspicion, he had to concur with the popular theory that Highweller's seat was sustained with bribes. It did not help his public image that, immediately after news of the Grindstone camp abuses broke out, Highweller had been openly sympathetic with what he called "a well meaning business trying to coral out of control youth", blithely ignoring- or not caring about- the fact that said business had an official body count.
Taking into account the two men, Calvin would have felt less worried if Satan himself had walked into the room, offering cigars in exchange for souls.
Once everyone was settled into their seats, Spittle approached the podium on stage. "I apologize for the short notice, but we have a guest speaker with us today, Judge Highweller, who is visiting from out of state. He has a few words to say about remaining in good standing with the law, and community involvement, so please, give him your undivided attention." Spittle forced a smile, a loathsome visage betraying underlying contempt that made Calvin involuntarily recoil. He looked next to him- Susie Derkins, who for some reason had sat by him, shuddered.
Marrin spoke first. "Good afternoon, boys and girls." Thick Texas accent. "I'm Judge Marrin, with the Newden city court downtown. I know a lot of you have schoolwork and test to get back to, so I'll make my part of the speech brief."
"It recently came to the attention of my dear friend, Judge Highweller, that very recently, y'all banded together and ran a charity event for the homeless. It was only a one day deal, but it's a nice gesture, nonetheless."
Calvin's eyes narrowed. Who the hell did he think he was, coming in here, on short notice, and beginning to belittle an act of altruism.
"Now, understand, we like to see children do these sorts of things- gives us a bit of hope with all the juvenile offenders we have to deal with that there's still some good ones left-"
Spittle looked as if he would sell his soul for a gun. Whether he meant to use it on Marrin, or himself, however, Calvin couldn't be certain.
"-but nevertheless, we want to make certain you aren't getting the wrong ideas about acts of generosity, thinking that doing one good deed means you're going to get away with doing a bad one later."
A few students voiced their dissent with mutters, quickly silenced by teachers. Marrin gave them a glare Calvin once thought only a member of Rod and Whip could give, a look of hate and scorn so pure he was nigh-certain it would give the recipients cancer.
"…for example, were this a courtroom, those idiots who spoke out of turn would be found in contempt of court, and staying in prison as a little reminder as to who was in charge. As it is- you, in the white shirt- pray you never so much as see me for a traffic ticket."
That silenced the outbursts. Spittle had a look on his face that might have been apologetic, not for his students, but for the guest.
"…as I was saying, so, to give you all an idea of what will happen should you decide to stray from the straight and narrow, I'll turn the floor over to Judge Highweller."
Calvin was silent if only due to a loss of words. Were they really going to be lectured over what they might do wrong, because they had done something charitable?
It was once an Orwellian, surreal idea, that these people could look at an act of charity and see in it veiled defiance, but these beliefs were hardly new to Calvin- he had seen them in the methods of Rod and Whip, the belief that all youth were invariably evil (save for the occasional sadist incarnate they identified with) and thus must be punished. Had these two also been recruited?
No. From what he knew of them, Rod and Whip preferred subtler endeavors, singling out targets for capture. This sort of openness wouldn't be tactically sound, especially after the Grindstone incident getting such publicity…
Highweller surveyed the lot of them with a scowl, as if daring any of them to speak out. When, after thirty seconds of deafening silence no one did, he spoke.
"Marrin prefers to deliver his words with tact. It is a habit of his." The man spoke with a voice aged and poisoned with bitterness. "I however, have no use for beating around the bush, so I will get to the point. If any of you dare to interrupt me or leave before I am done, I assure you- you will be sorry."
He was outright threatening them, now. Spittle moved to intercede, but Goffels caught his shoulder, pulled him back.
Highweller glared into the audience of students, and his gaze came to rest on… Calvin? No. Susie. He was glaring daggers at Susie. Calvin turned, to see Susie's reaction- her face was serene, calm, but Calvin could see her fingers dig into her seat.
"You have not fooled us."
Susie gave the barest jerk, as if cut.
"I have lived long enough to know the difference between an genuine act of altruism and an cover up or social bribe. The city of Newden, Ohio, and many others, see your one-day donation to an insurmountable problem as some sort of biblical miracle, a manifestation of goodwill." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "I, and a few others, however, see it for what it really is- a feeble attempt to sway the public, to get them to be lax when watching you, thinking you more prone to good than evil."
Calvin halfway expected Highweller to put on a tinfoil hat and start accusing them of stealing his thoughts. While not a psychologist, Highweller's lunatic theories spoke volumes about his paranoia.
"It is not by prejudice, but by years of experience that I have learned, if nothing else, one simple fact- chemically speaking, you children are incapable of altruistic acts. Even when you feign it, the focus is invariably how you will benefit. It is only in maturity brought on by obedience and age that one becomes capable of seeing past their own nose, and you lot, it is plain to see, lack both."
Calvin took mental notes, already envisioning the new article he was going to write. "Batshit insane crackpot uses big words to whine at junior high students."
"I know many of you likely just joined because it gave you an excuse to stop studying. To stop doing homework. To get out of chores. To be part of the crowd. That is another deadly flaw of children today- most are incapable of thinking for themselves, they revolve around one of the few that talks the loudest," and here he pointed directly at Calvin, "whether or not he is telling the truth."
For a moment, he and Calvin locked eyes. Calvin fought the impulse to flip him off.
"Or, in this case, the one who makes you all look good. The one who appears so selfless, you think that by rallying behind her, you become good by association. The one who preaches she's a good, devout, upstanding Christian when in truth-" his voice rose in volume as he jabbed his finger at her repeatedly she is nothing more than an anarchic con artist!"
Still Susie held her serene face, but she was breathing heavily, trying not to show fear.
"I am not fooled, Susie Derkins." Here Spittle was forcibly held back by Marrin and Goffels. "I'm not sure what it is- whether you're trying to win the favor of those around you so you can just do as you please later, and no one will dare accuse 'Miss Mother Teresa", or if you are doing it because you think it will make something you've done in the past go away, but I, and others who can see the truth, will not be deceived! Others may call you a saint, a model student, a hero, but I have a name for you, handed to me by the bible itself, and it is the whore of Babylon!"
There were gasps from the teachers and students alike. Spittle shrugged off Goffels and Marrin alike. "That is enough. You are all dismissed, go back to-"
"Spittle, stand down, or I will fire every teacher in here." Goffels' voice cut him off. "As for the rest of you, stay in your seat, or you will be expelled for insubordination."
Spittle stood, aghast at the blatant abuse of power. Calvin knew Spittle- if it were just his job on the line, he would have resigned and then decked Highweller, but he wouldn't put the rest of the school faculty at risk.
Highweller smiled, a cruel, vicious grin as he realized no one was coming to his target's rescue. "So, Whore of Babylon, aka Susie Derkins, what crimes are you hiding?"
Calvin shoved his hand into his pocket and aimed at Highweller with the Transmogrifier Gun, willing the stage to collapse, for something to fall on him, anything- but the unbelief was too strong, the change too drastic to force into the reality with this many people watching. He couldn't even create a power failure or fire, with this many people paying attention to the spectacle.
He swore, however, that he would ensure that whatever vehicle Highweller happened to take would burst into flames.
"WHAT CRIMES ARE YOU HIDING!" bellowed Highweller.
Tears formed in Susie's eyes, but she stood, hands and legs trembling, and stared straight at Highweller. "I'm hiding nothing." She spoke, her voice shaky, but loud enough to be heard by all.
"Are you aware of just how much trouble lying to a judge can get you in?" Highweller retorted.
"Yes. Yes I am." Responded Susie. "But I did that event because I've seen kids go hungry because they can't afford lunch. Because they couldn't afford the barest supplies for school. Because all some wanted for their birthdays or Christmas were clothes that didn't have holes in them."
"You honestly think that's going to convince me?" Highweller's tone was condescending.
"No." Susie shook her head, brushing away tears. "No, I don't. I don't know if anything I say or do will ever convince you I haven't done anything wrong, or that the most selfish thought I had during the whole event was that it would look good on my resume. But everything you've said today is all just opinions. If you want to hate me because you think I'm a liar, then go ahead. You keep on hating. I'll keep on helping people."
Highweller had clearly expected something else in response- threats, probably, something he could use to find fault with her. Now he stood, in silent rage, beaten…
…and then he smiled.
"You're every bit the silver tongued liar I'd heard you were. Were you anyone else, I might admire your ability to remain calm under fire. As it is…" he looked behind her, to a door leading outside. "Officer Caldern?"
In swift strides that defied his obesity, Caldern, emerging from the door, strode to where Calvin and Susie were. "Susie Derkins," he said, pulling her over out of her seat, "you're under arrest for marijuana possession with intent to sell."
Susie glared daggers at Highweller, who was now beaming with a sick sort of pride, as she was handcuffed. "Now," Caldern suddenly pulled her arms up painfully, making her cry out. "where did you get the drugs?" He was deliberately loud, so that the rest of the student body could hear.
"T-they aren't mi-"
And then Caldern dragged her over to the wall and threw her against it, reared his right hand back, and punched Susie square in the face, sending her sprawling to the floor.
Calvin stood as screams and gasps filled the auditorium, ran to do what he could to get this maniac off of her-
Something hard crashed across his face, and he stumbled. Another blow to his back- a metal club- and he went down.
"Not today, twinkie."
He scarcely saw the shoe before it swung up into his face, knocking him on his back. There was Moe, smiling the same smile that foretold of injury in his younger years. Before Calvin could react, Moe stomped on his chest, and brought his other hand up to Calvin's neck.
Calvin's muscles seized and his world became pain as two red hot prongs stabbed him in the neck, and blackness followed.
…
"While the circumstances surrounding your arrest were, to many, controversial, controversy cannot be an obstacle to enforcing a zero tolerance policy for drug use and intent to distribute said drugs within our schools, nor can previous actions which the public has interpreted as charitable mitigate these circumstances."
"I am well aware of the evidence presented in your defense, Ms. Derkins. Your teachers speak highly of you. You have superior grades. Your own principal has sent me multiple copies of security cameras that allegedly show tampering with your locker by an unidentified person. I have been inundated with calls asking why I am putting you on trial for a crime you did not commit."
"But at the same time, I must listen to logic, as opposed to majority opinion. Teachers can be fooled. You can cheat your way to grades. Tapes can be tampered with, as I saw in Officer Caldern's case. The public can be fooled."
"Is there sufficient evidence to convict you of drug abuse, or intent to sell? No. The law demands that I be fair, even when I believe a suspect is lying. The tapes call into question your guilt, as do your grades. With no evidence to support this court's suspicions of cheating or your drug use, I must do as I have done with Caldern and others, when their guilt cannot be proven beyond reasonable doubt, and find you Not Guilty of that charge."
"However, your arresting officer, his son, and two judges testify that during your arrest you became so violent and uncontrolled that you injured one Calvin Halgins so badly he required an ambulance. I am aware an arrest is traumatic, but that does not excuse your actions, and it casts suspicions on your innocence."
"As it is, you, like so many others, need a lesson in respect for authority- even when respect is not mutual- and for your fellow students. To that end, I am sentencing you to one month community service. If at the end of your sentence you are contrite and repentant, then I will consider this matter resolved. If this rebellious streak of yours continues, however, further punishments may be in order. It is so ordered."
-Docket # xxxxx287, Newden, Ohio v. Derkins, Judge Brian Marrin presiding.