Chapter 11
A/N: Thank you to Jenny wrens, DS2010, and andipxandy for their reviews of Chapter 10 back in August-September 2020. I left my work for far too long, but I at last managed to break through the writers' block again today. For you three and for all other readers, thank you; I hope this chapter is worth the wait.
Cassandra was still shivering slightly when Lukas parked at Arby's, and even after sitting inside for ten minutes. It was decent enough during the day, for now, but at night it was damned cold. That was actually a plus for Cassandra, why she liked going out there even in simpler times, when she wasn't trying to make sense of her father, the consummate warrior, being in any way less than pleased with her. She'd dedicated her whole life to being a fighter, and the day would come when she earned the Eagle, Globe and Anchor for herself.
Those type of things made sense to Cassandra. She was good at that sort of thing. Setting specific goals, identifying what was necessary to make them a reality, going after those necessities and always getting results.
What didn't was all this "people" stuff. And 'feeling' things. Lukas was way, way better at that sort of thing.
As if aware that she was thinking about him, Lukas sat down at a two-person booth nearby, reached across the aisle and took Cassandra's right hand in both of his.
"Hello," he said, meeting her eyes steadily.
"Hey."
"Are you thinking about something?" Lukas asked in his meticulous English. His accent came out in force when he grew worried or stressed, but he was the picture of calm right now. Lukas smiled, adding, "I think you are. I wonder what it is?"
"I wonder if I'll tell you," Cassandra replied.
"Are you not the one who decides that?"
"I was thinking about you," Cassandra answered honestly.
"Anything in particular?" Lukas asked. He didn't seem remotely surprised.
"How nice you are. Everybody likes you."
"They like you, too."
"No, they don't," Cassandra said. "They're afraid of me. There's a difference."
"Why do you think people like me more than you?" Lukas asked curiously.
"You're the one that's actually friendly."
"No, I'm just funny," Lukas laughed. "I try to be."
"You are funny, and you're friendly. You are. You… you understand people. You care about them a lot. You like people and it shows. You're good at that stuff."
"What about you?"
"I'm better at sending people to the infirmary. Or the hospital. I'm good at fighting."
"So everyone is afraid you will beat them up."
"I guess. I don't know. I know a lot of ways to hurt people. That stuff comes easy to me. You're the one that actually talks to them."
"Is Cass over here being moody again?" Will asked as he approached, followed by Josh, Chris, Brittany, Melissa, and Danny Burke.
"Always," Lukas answered cheerfully.
"Lukas, I'll kill you," Cassandra warned, but she knew her voice didn't have much force to it. She was too tired.
"Your siblings will avenge me," Lukas vowed. "Hey, they- look, they have brought us our food!"
"Absolutely American," Brittany cracked as her siblings laughed. "You hear him?"
"Well, of course I do," Will answered, deadpan. "How could I not? I mean, he's speaking a language I understand and I'm within range to hear him, so-"
"Would you knock it off, Professor?"
"Just set it down anywhere," Josh told the cashier who'd come out with the food. "Hey, so, you guys take tips?"
"We're not- uh, we're not allowed to," the girl answered, clearing her throat nervously. Josh and Chris glanced at each other, then back at her. She was high school age herself, and the two handsome, well-dressed guys were making her nervous.
"Well, if I happened to lose twenty bucks and you just happened to find it," Chris answered, "then that wouldn't break any rules, would it?"
"Look at all this," Danny said in amazement, looking at the trays of food. "You guys seriously eat all this?"
"Yes," Brittany told him. "You get used to it."
"I guess so," Danny said, laughing. "Man!"
Chris went over to one of the vacant tables and set a $20 bill down by the napkin dispenser. Josh whispered to the girl before sitting down. She looked between it and the twins, blushed again, and stammered something
"Always the charmer," Josh said, grinning at his brother.
"We Marshalls are suavity and panache personified," Chris said pompously.
"Oh, sit down, would you," Cassandra said, waving at him. "I'll do the prayer." She composed herself and said the family's traditional table prayer, the one that rhymed. Mom and Dad loved it.
"I'm still joining the Navy, Cass," Will reminded her, as everyone started to dig in.
"Why on earth would you do that?" Cassandra demanded, turning to her youngest sibling. "Out at the track, you said that, I thought I imagined something, or it was a joke-"
"No joke," Will replied, shaking his head. "I want to be a submarine officer. I can't do that in the Marines."
"But you'd be a squid. Who even- why- why wouldn't you want to be a Marine?"
"I'd like being a Marine just fine," Will said evenly. "I can't be in the submarines if I do that, though."
"What's so great about a submarine?"
"They sneak around and send their targets down to see Davy Jones," Will quipped, grinning.
"And you got this idea from where?"
"Down Periscope. Then I started researching submarines, and what you have to do to serve on one, and what it's like, and what the different classes are. I also read some books on nuclear propulsion and the engineering concepts that go into making a submarine work."
"You realize," Cassandra said slowly, "that Dad is convinced we're all going into the Corps."
"Yep."
"And that the last service any of us are gonna join is the Navy."
"Yep."
"So what do you expect me to do whenever you tell Dad about this, or when he finds out?"
"Back me up," Will replied, meeting her gaze steadily.
"And why would I do that?" Cassandra bristled. She could imagine no life beyond that offered by the Marine Corps. There was the Corps, The Citadel, and being an athlete. Cassandra had little interest in anything else.
"You'd do that," Will said with a warm smile, "because you love me. Because you'll fight for me every chance you get, the same as you'd do for any of us. And any of us would do for you."
"You trying to make me cry, Will?" Cassandra asked, clearing her throat as her voice suddenly grew hoarse. "Well, it isn't gonna work."
"Don't you love us, Cass?" Josh asked, looking pointedly at her.
"You know how I feel about you guys," Cassandra replied, trying to evade her siblings' gaze now.
"Do we?" Chris asked.
"Well, yeah."
"Maybe you should say it just so we know for sure."
"Damn it, Josh-"
"Someday we're all gonna be deployed around the world, making bad guys sorry they came outta their little caves," Josh said confidently. "You obviously hate bullshit, or beating around the bush. Just say it, Cass, at least once. Will made sure to say it to you. We all did. What'll it hurt?"
"Not much, I guess," Cassandra allowed. "Well, I don't like you. That much. A little. Some."
"That's not the brutally-honest best friend I know," Melissa quipped, making the group laugh.
"Thanks, Missy," Cassandra grouched.
"Why's it so hard to just admit that you love us?" Will asked.
"Because- I- I don't know how to say it," Cassandra managed to force out. "I can't say it right. I'd mess it up." She was trying to keep her emotions in check and not doing so well at it. "Why do we have to talk about this again anyway?"
"You've never said it to us," Will said, "and I think that should change. Just say that you love us. Tell us what you really think, like you always do with everything else."
"Dad yelled at me," Cassandra blurted suddenly. "I only ever wanted to be like him. All I've ever wanted to be was a Marine. It's all I want to be, ever. So what'd I do wrong?"
"You just need to think a little more before you charge into things," Will responded. "That's all. He's still proud of you. He knows you wanna be the big general like him one day. And you can do it. The Marine Corps has never had a female four-star before, but that's coming. It's inevitable at this point. The first one just might be you. But Dad just wanted you to know that Marines care about the people under them. It's not just all about getting on somebody's case if they don't measure up the first time."
"It should be," Cassandra grumbled.
"Some people can pick it up as quick as you, or they just instinctively know what to do," Will went on. "Other people need more guidance."
"Just give a shit, man," Chris said. "That's all you need to do. Think a little more, like Will said, and give a shit. And don't be afraid of that."
"Who says I'm afraid?" Cassandra bristled, disliking even the hint that she might be afraid of anything, anytime, anywhere. Fear and Cassandra Marshall were not well-acquianted and she liked it that way. Slow to make friends but always first to meet any challenge, take any dare.
"Well, you've been trying to avoid saying what you really think of us for years now," Brittany remarked.
"I'm not afraid of that."
"So say it," Josh answered.
"You know how I feel," Cassandra insisted. "I-you know."
"It'd be good to hear it for once," Will said, his wise young eyes boring into hers, blue and crisp. "Just say it once, Cass, so we've heard it this one time in our lives."
Cassandra's eyes blurred with tears, and she wanted to look away, hide so they couldn't see her show of weakness. But sitting there, caught by the love of her siblings, her boyfriend and her best friend, Cassandra found herself unable to avoid a moment she'd been dodging for years.
For her whole life, really.
Managing to look at them as a group for just a moment, Cassandra managed it. Quiet, almost inaudible, nothing like her usual imposing, commanding self, brash and supremely confident. Yet unmistakably still her, still Cassandra Marshall.
"I love you."
ΩΩΩΩΩ
It was a cold morning, and Thomas Marshall felt exactly like the 1957 Oldsmobile 88 he had sitting outside the Fairfax Diner- old and unwilling to start up on a cold morning. The days weren't so bad once the sun had been up a while, but at first light you could never forget it was December.
The car was an old tank just like its owner, the young Marine staff sergeant who'd ordered it in May of 1956. Since then, while it had grown a little slower and more prone to grumbling with age- again, like its owner- the Olds had continued to be quite excellent at what it had been made to do. Now, both the car and its owner were retired, taking things slow, and Thomas like it that way. Let his son and grandkids do the hurrying around; it was their turn.
"I was wondering when you'd show up, Gunny," Thomas called out as a silvery-haired man in his fifties entered the diner, his gray Ford pickup parked outside next to the Artesian Blue Oldsmobile. "I've only been waiting since Ronald Reagan was President."
"You enjoy grouching at me, Tom?" Leroy responded, a hint of a laugh in his tone.
"You bet I do," Thomas agreed. "C'mon, Leroy, sit down before someone comes over to do a documentary on living fossils."
"Speaking of, how was it marching with Washington to Valley Forge?"
"Cold, a lot like when I was standing outside of this place waiting for you," Thomas retorted. "Now c'mon. They're actually makin' the coffee halfway decent this morning."
"How's your kid, Tom?"
"Still chasing the big bucks, all the power he can grab," Thomas said, chuckling ruefully. "He's doing it inside the Corps, so, it's not so bad, but he didn't marry that high-society girl by accident. He's come a long way but, I guess in his mind he'll always be fishing in dumpsters."
"That's a hard thing to forget," Leroy observed. "You said he was fourteen when you met him up in New York City?"
"Yeah, thirteen, fourteen, either one," Thomas agreed. "Only reason I'm not sure is he isn't. Doesn't know what his actual birthday was. No idea. We had to guess on getting him new documents issued. Didn't even know his original last name." He nodded to the counterman as his mug came back, filled up with steaming black coffee, and Leroy got his, too. They each had been coming here so long, the owner let them keep a mug apiece in the back.
"That's a long time for a kid to go without catching a break."
"It sure is. I should know, since I was in and out of foster homes all that time. When I was his age I was at Iwo Jima. That's noplace for a kid to be, Leroy. We lost too many good guys there."
"You think the kids today could handle that?" Leroy asked. "Battles like that one?"
"Sure, if you threw 'em into it and gave 'em no other choice, like they did with the guys in the Pacific. Kids today are just like any others. They just got different toys, different technology to play around with. People are still people."
"I'd say Riley would like to hear about all this," Leroy said, "but right now his opinion of the military isn't too high, so I don't know for sure."
"Can't blame him. One bad Senior DI running loose can mess up a lot of good recruits. Adams was out of control, Leroy. It's good you helped rein him in."
"The commander down at Parris Island listened to me and what my team found," Leroy sighed, sipping at his coffee. "I'm just glad he didn't decide to throw his weight behind Adams. A lot of commanders would have, especially with the record Adams had. He'd never faced a real investigation before."
"What commanders need is men who'll get results," Thomas said, drawing on a lifetime of experience. "That's mostly a good thing. But you and I know it can get a guy like Adams a lot of leeway he doesn't deserve."
"I was lucky," Leroy reflected. "Pretty much all the officers I served under were good ones."
"Most of 'em are good ones. Like my son. He likes the rich, fancy life way better than me, and he's always been telling his kids to not just make friends, but go for the really connected ones. Set up for power, influence. He wants 'em to have everything."
"Not a bad intention to have, not the basic form of it, anyway," Leroy said. "He wants his kids to be safe and to have a good life."
"You should see the cars his teenagers have," Thomas said wryly. "He practically talked his two oldest boys into getting these damn expensive convertibles. Designer clothes, private school, everything."
"You don't approve."
"No, Leroy, I guess I don't," Thomas allowed. "Not really. I just like to keep things simple, not put on airs. But my son, he wants it a whole other way."
"I can understand that, Tom. But you two still get along."
"We do. It's been a great privilege seeing him become this successful. I guess I'm partly to blame; I sent him to a private school in the first place. And sure enough he made some friends there. One thing led to another, I guess."
"Sergeant Major, you finally figured it out."
"Well, thanks, Gunny. I appreciate the support."
"How'd you end up here after working with the VA, anyway? It was nice of you to help me muster out after the Gulf."
Thomas grunted. "Well, after a couple years in California I wanted to go back home, but with my son always moving around in the Marines, I figured Washington seemed a decent compromise. So I got a place just outside of Loudon County. And now I sit here every morning listenin' to you goin' crazy about all these kids in your house."
"It is crazy with all those kids in my house."
"Well, what'd you let 'em in there for?"
"Just something I had to do."
"I understand. I went through enough divorces, figured I'd had it. Then I was on recruiting duty in the Big Apple and my plans changed. My boy still won't talk about it- what it was like before I came into his life. Your youngest, she's not likely gonna remember much of any bad times before you. The other girl, she sounds like a fighter. Riley, too."
"They are; I'd agree with that. Janessa's sweet. Aimee and Riley are the fighters."
"You know, if you ever wanted a shoe in the door at one of D.C.'s top prep schools, my son and his wife know just about everybody," Thomas offered, not for the first time. "I know it sounds odd, coming from me, but I just wanted to say I'll make it happen if you want me to."
"I appreciate it, Tom, but public school's more my scene," Leroy responded politely. "I know I can get my girls where they want to go without getting a prep school involved."
"The door's always open, if you ever change your mind, and the same goes for the other kids in the house. I know you've just got Riley on hand temporarily, and that, uh, that girl he likes, too. What was her name?"
"Makayla."
"Yeah, that's the one, Makayla. You got a crowded barracks there, Leroy."
"It's lively if nothing else."
"I'll just bet!" Thomas laughed, drinking some more of his coffee. "Just keep your head on straight. I'll leave all that to you, Leroy. The Grandpa life's just what I need now. My boy and his wife, they can do all the legwork. I get to spoil 'em."
"Don't enjoy it too much, Sergeant Major."
"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, Gunny."
ΩΩΩΩΩ
Harry Potter was waiting for Josh in the school parking lot when he pulled up, maneuvering the massive, emerald-green Corniche into his favorite parking space. As soon as Josh opened the ten-foot-long driver's door and stood up, Harry was there, chattering anxiously.
"So the Head wants to see us. Dr. Jenkins does. You, me and Trevor, in his office, right away."
"I can't imagine why."
"Well, he wants to see us because-"
"Harry, man, I was being sarcastic." Josh paused to open the door for Melissa. He took her outstretched hand, kissed it gently, and thanked God and all the angels that he had won the affection of a girl like this. Without taking his eyes of Missy, he added, "I know you've been covering for me, Harry."
"Yeah. Like I'd let that trailer-park kid come in here and stir shi-stuff up with us."
"Nice catch, Harry," Melissa observed.
"Well, I'm not supposed to swear in front of the ladies," Harry replied indignantly.
"So what are people saying? Kids around the school?"
"A lot of people think the Janssen kid started it." Harry smiled. "I made sure of that."
"Harry, you don't need to do all that. I started that fight."
"Well, so what if you did?" Harry shrugged. "This is our school, not his. Our parking lot, not his. We don't go bothering him at whatever random noplace school he dropped out of, so why does he-"
"I think he might actually have graduated high school already," Josh corrected him. "Dad said so."
Harry stared. "Your dad knows about that stupid kid?"
"Yeah. Dad does."
"How?"
"I learned a long time ago never to question Dad's connections, or his skill at finding things out."
"Fair enough, man." Harry grinned nervously and shoved his hands in his school blazer pockets. "Listen, uh, Trevor's getting kinda jumpy. I told him I'd be out here lookin' for you."
"All right, Harry." Josh sighed. "We better get in there and see what Dr. Jenkins wants."
ΩΩΩΩΩ
The minute the three boys were seated, the Headmaster, an old Marine who'd deployed to the Gulf with Dad and Gunny Gibbs back in '90-91, gave them the steel gaze that only an experienced Jarhead knew how to do. He let the three of them sit there, each trying to look calm and failing, each wishing he was somewhere else, each resisting the urge to start fidgeting with his school necktie.
"Mr. Potter did an extraordinary job muddying the waters this time," Dr. Jenkins began. "the cover-up was extremely thorough. Even my staff are divided on what happened, especially since few of them saw anything themselves. The cover up was not thorough enough, however. Don't any of you think for even a second I don't know what happened out in that parking lot yesterday."
"No, sir," Josh said.
"No, sir," Trevor added immediately.
"No, sir," Harry almost whispered, tugging anxiously at his necktie, then tightening it again.
"Mr. Marshall, I've already spoken to your parents. I know you've already spoken to your father about this, in particular."
"Yes, sir, I have."
"Be glad I've decided to let him handle it- for the most part." Jenkins held up a hand as all three boys opened their mouths to speak. "Mr. Marshall, Mr. Philips, Mr. Potter, I want you to know I could easily call a meeting of the Disciplinary Committee for this. I have no interest in a public spectacle, but I also have no interest in three of my students starting a brawl in the school parking lot with a visitor."
"Sir, he was-" Harry began, but Dr. Jenkins silenced him with a sharp gesture.
"He was here accompanying Mr. Gibbs, who has custody of Makayla Wallace while her parents are away. None of you had any business bothering anyone who was merely standing in the parking lot in any event. He posed no threat, he was causing no trouble. Instead two juniors and a Prefect started the trouble themselves. What a fine introduction for that young man to have to one of the world's most prestigious preparatory schools."
"Sir-" Trevor started, but Dr. Jenkins cut him off.
"Mr. Philips, since you're here, I'll let you know that you would've been going on probation for 'Suspicion of Ungentlemanly Conduct' even without yesterday's incident. You swear too much. It's out of control. You are a teenage male, a regrettably, but distinctly uncouth and reckless species much of the time. But you are also an Xavier student, and we live by a higher standard here."
"That's what the three of us are facing, sir?" Josh asked carefully. "Probation?"
"For 'Suspicion of Ungentlemanly Conduct,'" Dr. Jenkins agreed. "Normally these things come through the Disciplinary Committee, but with the Christmas break coming up so soon, I decided to use the authority of this office to handle this myself. Provided the three of you agree, the Disciplinary Committee will enter your probation into the record with no further comment."
"That sounds fair, sir," Josh said.
"I'm glad you approve, Mr. Marshall," Dr. Jenkins snapped, and Josh realized for the first time just how angry the Head was. "That little stunt was enough to get you thrown out of school. Whatever grievance you feel you have against that young man, it is not enough to justify starting a brawl in the parking lot of this school. Do you have any idea how ridiculous you made me and your parents and your friends look in the past twenty-four hours? Do you have even the slightest notion of how embarrassing it is to have to apologize to a man I personally served with for the behavior of one of my ranking students?"
"Yes, sir," Josh said, well aware he was now treading in a minefield. "In fact I was planning to go see Agent Gibbs myself on Saturday, to- uh, to apologize, for what I did. And to Riley Janssen. I'm going to say the whole thing was my fault, because it is."
"That's good. And your father, I imagine he told you to go right over there and chop wood if Agent Gibbs wants that?"
"Yes, sir, he did."
"Well, excellent. Outstanding. You do that if he says so. You may go to Xavier Prep, Mr. Marshall, you may drive that Rolls-Royce car and your brother may drive a Bentley. But all the money and all the prestige in the world is no substitute for integrity and decency. Now, do you understand that? Do all three of you understand that?"
"Yes, sir," they replied instantly.
"Good. You're still bright young men with limitless potential. You're all better than this. You will prove it through exams, and over the next semester. I expect nothing but the best from each of you. Get to class, have a good morning, and keep your noses clean. Agreed?"
"Yes, sir," Josh said, speaking for all of them. "Thank you, sir. Good morning."
They rose to leave the office, careful with their slightest movements, as if afraid moving too quickly would set off a bomb. Only when they were outside in the hall did Josh realize how much he'd been sweating. Under his button-down shirt, his standard white t-shirt felt like he'd gone swimming.
ΩΩΩΩΩ
After spending the rest of the morning doing his best to be utterly invisible, Harry Potter slinked into the Prefect's Lounge for some rest. It was easier than going back to his room, and it was fun hanging around with the Prefects, wielding much of the same prestige and influence as they did with none of the responsibility or authority.
Getting grilled like that had really taken a toll. Harry feared being under the gun like that, feared it more than most things in life. It was his personal mission to stay out of things, avoid the spotlight, have fun and wield influence but never get involved in anything- directly. And here he'd gotten right into the center of something that was now the talk of the school. It had scared him at the time, hence he'd just stood there once the fight started. Now it terrified him.
Trying to forget the bad vibes, Harry cracked open a window in the second adjoining room of the Lounge, tried to smoke a Camel for a few minutes and then gave it up as a wasted effort. He stubbed the damn thing out on the bricks below the window, tossed it out into the distance, and closed the window. Then he flopped down on the couch by the window, already forgetting where he'd dropped his bag after coming in the door, and began to pass out.
Twenty or thirty minutes later, Harry started as he hard voices arguing, movement, sounds of a struggle, a cry of pain, another of anger. A cabinet door slammed shut and a boy started shouting furiously, banging on the wood. Spooked even further and only just coming awake, Harry felt a vise of steel gripping his chest. He vaulted up and over the couch, landing in the narrow space between it and the wall, hugging himself, rocking back and forth.
The noise went on for some time. The arguing. Jensen Carter yelling, mostly. Then the door to the Lounge opened again and now there really was arguing, sounds of a fight. Harry shook his head, blinking away tears, cowering and unable to help it. He wasn't a fighter. He couldn't handle anything that reminded him of- of- That. Not the fight he'd helped Josh start, something years before, something he only remembered bits and flashes of, except moments like this, when it all came pouring back…
"Harry!" a girl said insistently. Someone was slapping his face gently. "Hey! Harry! Talk to me, lemme know you're here!"
"What?" Harry asked tightly, looking up. It was Cassandra Marshall. Oh, wonderful. Now she was gonna kill him for being in here without a Prefect's badge, and-
"Easy, now," Cassandra said, still kneeling in front of him. The couch had been moved a little further away from the wall. Maybe Harry had done that, maybe the Prefects gathered in the room had done that. "Easy."
Harry just shook his head and kept his arms wrapped tightly around himself, rocking slowly, trying to just breathe, breathe, and remember where he was, who he was, who was here with him. The threat, whatever it was, the trouble, had gone. The room was calm again.
The vise slowly… slowly… began to let go. Harry rocked back and forth, but slower now, and finally he came to a halt. He could breathe all right. "What happened?" Harry asked, looking up at the grim, concerned faces of Cassandra Marshall, Josh Marshall, Bradley Campbell, Emily Wright, and Alan Parks.
"Riley Janssen came back," Josh Marshall said simply. "He came in while Jensen was trying to get Makayla Wallace out of that cabinet. She was going through some of our stuff, bags people left in here. Janssen showed up, decked Jensen and took Makayla and left."
"And now every Prefect's out of class, sweeping the school, trying to find them. And we're getting full accountability of everyone else." Cassandra shook her head. "Well, first things first. Are you okay, Harry? You feel all right?"
"What?" Harry asked, still frightened, still worried the notoriously-stern Head Girl was just waiting to lay into him, that her infamous temper was going to explode. Like he needed that in his life right now…
"Harry, I just wanna know if you're all right."
"I'm-okay," Harry managed. "When… it started, I was… I was in here, sleeping. I hid back here."
"Well, don't worry," Cassandra told him. "You're safe now." She even managed a smile.
"Makayla Wallace didn't get out of here with any of our stuff," Bradley said. "We're sure of that. Jensen said he would've known and he saw them leave."
"Not like that tells us where they went next," Josh said.
"They gotta be off the Lawn by now, for sure," Bradley said.
"Well, even if they are I wanna know everybody else is safe," Cassandra said. "Woodes is up talking to the Head, with Jensen. You wanna go anywhere, Harry?"
"Shower," Harry said tightly. "I need a shower."
"Okay, we can do that," Cassandra nodded. "After that fight Jensen's gonna need to change into a fresh uniform, too, so- Brad, you wanna make that happen? Get back to the dorm and pull some clean clothes? Just get one of the janitors to unlock the doors."
"Uh… yeah, sure." Bradley gave Cassandra an odd look. "Well, I mean, I just didn't know you cared about-"
"Oh, shut up," Cassandra snapped at him. "I'm doing my job, Bradley. Now you wanna do yours or not?"
"Uh-"
"Great. Thanks. Harry, go with him. You'll be fine. You're not in trouble. We've got the campus under control."
"Okay," Harry nodded. He managed to unfold his legs, stand up and take some breaths, feeling halfway normal again.
"That was a panic attack, wasn't it?" Emily Wright asked.
"Yeah." Harry paused a moment, gathering himself still. "Haven't had one that bad in a while."
"You're gonna be all right, man," Josh assured him. "The Prefects look out for everyone."
ΩΩΩΩΩ
Chris was sitting behind the desk with Mrs. Sanchez, one of the school secretaries, from the minute the text message alert went out from Cassandra. She'd learned that an outsider, an intruder, had entered Xavier and left with a student. From there, Chris raced to his assigned alert station, backing up the secretary on duty and ready to man one of the landline phones or his own cell phone, whatever the occasion demanded.
Getting to be at the 'command post' was cool and all, but Chris would just as soon have been out on patrol. He was tired of all these interruptions, the disruptions, the nagging sense that Riley Janssen's presence was just making things worse. An outsider with a jaundiced view of private schools could easily introduce, or aggravate, the notion in a struggling new student's head that Xavier wasn't for him or her, and ultimately turn that into a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Maybe the fact was that this place just wasn't for Makayla Wallace. It suited her sister fine; she was a Prefect here, quite popular and connected, one of the reasons Josh had taken such an interest in her. But Makayla's days here had been an unmitigated disaster. Apart from that magnificent artwork, those drawings, she'd always had conflict with the school and it, in some form or another, had always had conflict with her. Maybe Riley Janssen was just hastening the inevitable.
He's got no goddamn right to do that, though, Chris thought irritably. And he's especially got no right to pull me out of class- again- when I was just getting a good look at Danny Burke's a-
BRRRRIIIIIIING! BRRRRRIIIIIIINGG!
Shit!
Chris yanked the phone from its cradle, having seen Mrs. Sanchez was already on a call. "Xavier Preparatory School," he answered courteously, "how may I direct your call?"
"Yeah, uh, this is Tony DiNozzo, I need to talk to somebody about where one of your students is?"
"What?"
"One of your students. Makayla Wallace?"
Chris jerked as if struck by a pin. "You're in the right place, sir. Where'd she go?"
"Shouldn't you be in class? You sound like a student."
"I am, sir, but I'm a Prefect," Chris replied. "We answer the phones here at the office sometimes. So where'd Makayla Wallace end up?"
"She's over at a hospital now, with me. I'll give you the address."
Chris quickly grabbed a notepad and wrote the address down, then a contact number for the hospital. The same one he'd wound up in after the wreck. Awesome.
"And who are you, sir?"
"Tony DiNozzo."
"Sir, I mean what is your relation to Makayla Wallace?"
"I'm a coworker of Leroy Jethro Gibbs, who has custody of her right now. He's entrusted me with some things, like helping out when Makayla gets her shoulder dislocated."
"Uh… yeah, we're working on that one now, sir," Chris answered, glancing up as Jensen Carter and Harry Potter came back, looking like the school poster boys they were after a good shower and a change of uniform. He waved them to stay, jotting another note down.
"If you guys need anything else, just give me a call, or Gibbs, once I let him know in a minute."
"Okay, sir, uh- I- all right." Chris hesitated. "Thank you for calling Xavier Prep." He dropped the phone back into its cradle and looked up. "I know where Makayla Wallace is."
"Where?" Jensen, Harry and Mrs. Sanchez all asked at once.
"After she and Janssen got off campus, they wound up at the hospital near here, I got the address. Dislocated her shoulder." He couldn't resist shooting an annoyed glance at Jensen. "Great work, JC. Now we're gonna catch hell from Mr. and Mrs. Wallace whenever they get back. Mrs. Wallace alone is gonna-"
"Hey, look," Jensen insisted, "I already let the Head know about that! He knows exactly what happened. I didn't mean to do it; it just happened by accident."
"Yeah." Chris sighed, shaking his head. "Okay, well, now that you're nice and presentable again, can you please help search the Lawn and all? I wanna get back to class."
"Cassandra and Woodes still have everyone looking?"
"Yeah." Chris shook his head. "You don't know what this means, Jensen; you're cool, but you're so new. This- it's a security problem. Think about it. An outsider comes onto the campus, assaults a Prefect, leaves with a student, all without the school knowing about it?"
"I'm really sorry about it, man," Jensen said. "I didn't- she just scared me, and-"
"Just help look and make sure there's nobody else here." Chris shivered. "Look, I know Cassandra's always the heavy around here, but this time she's right. I've never seen her so worried. These are our students, Jensen. We swore an oath to protect them. Least we can do is make sure they're all safe and where they're supposed to be." Chris paused. "The rest of them, anyway."
"You're right, Chris." Jensen sighed. "I know you're right. Okay, man. I'm gonna go help look."
"Me, too," Harry volunteered.
"No, you'll do no such thing," Mrs. Sanchez said, finally hanging up as she finished the call she'd been dealing with. "You, Harry Potter, are going back to class right now."
"But-"
"Right now."
Harry sighed wearily, looking genuinely disappointed. "Yes, ma'am."
Just as Harry left, Alan Parks came jogging up the steps and yanked one of the double doors open. He looked over at the front desk area and spotted Chris. "Somebody hit your car with their door. They got Woodes' Caddy, too."
"Aw, man," Chris winced. "Jensen, new job opening. Can you take over here?"
"Yeah, sure thing, man," Jensen agreed. The tall, broad-shouldered football star humbly joined Mrs. Sanchez in manning the front desk, and Chris half-sprinted outside to his beloved Bentley.
Sure enough, the car was scratched good in one place, sporting some gouged paint for about two inches, with overcast-sky-gray paint traded in for some of the Bentley Azure's gorgeous multi-layer garnet.
"Hit yours, and mine, whoever it was," Woodes Rogers remarked, looking at his similarly-damaged Escalade.
"Great." Chris sighed, shaking his head. "That's just- that's just fuckin' brilliant. Probably over a thousand dollars in damage to my car alone."
"Man, it's two grand just for them to look at it; what're you talking about?"
Chris looked sharply at Woodes and saw the other boy was joking. "Woodes, I don't know if Riley Janssen did this or not. But I'm with Cassandra on this. No more of this fucking shit with people who aren't supposed to be here just showing up. This is Xavier."
"Yeah. I'm already working out a plan with Cassandra. We're gonna watch the place close until the break finally gets here. We have to. We'll work with the Head, the teachers, the security team, but man, we are not letting this happen again."
"Amazing. Finals are about to start and now- man, we have to really do our jobs now, don't we?"
"Yep," Woodes agreed. "We sure will if Cassandra has anything to say about it. I don't know whether she's mad or scared. She's not gonna rest after this, not until she's satisfied we actually can guarantee control of the campus."
"Is she really wrong to be after that?" Chris asked, still gazing at his wounded Bentley.
"No. She's right about this. She usually is right; she's just not subtle or nice about it. She's actually trying to work with me right now, though, which is cool. What happened, did God come down from Heaven and have a talk with her or something? Tell her not to plant her foot in everyone's ass if they breathe wrong?" He raised his hands preemptively, a silent sign it was just a joke.
"No," Chris said. "But close enough."
"What?"
"I don't know if God talked to her, but my Dad did."
"Ah." Woodes snickered. "So close enough, all right."
"Yeah, man. There you go." Chris managed to laugh. "Well, speaking of, I better make that call."
"What, to God?" Woodes quipped.
"No, Mr. Head Boy, to the damn Bentley dealer. Time to find out how good their body shop contractor is."
"And same for me, with the Cadillac folks," Woodes sighed. "Man. Makayla Wallace just keeps making friends and making me work more, doesn't she? I dunno, dude. I don't see how she can last here much longer."
"We did what we could for her, man. At least here at the end."
"You know my Dad was gonna come in and visit today? He wanted to personally ask her to do a sketch of the both of us for him to hang in his office. He even wants to buy it, and some other drawings I told him about."
"That'll be nice for her," Chris remarked. "The big, influential Senator commissioning artwork from Makayla Wallace."
"Yeah. We'll see. If she even comes back. I tell you what, man…" Woodes shook his head, and his expression hardened. "Riley Janssen better keep his distance after this. He hasn't got a lot of friends around here, and now he's left with one of my students. Had it been someone other than him, we could've just had a kidnapping on our hands. I swear, another creep comes sneaking onto my campus, I'll personally have him arrested."
"We need to end the open-door days," Chris said reluctantly. "Create, I dunno, ID badging or something, put that fence back up that used to run around the campus."
"Maybe, maybe." Woodes nodded, as if reassuring himself. "It'll work out, man. Whatever happens, Christmas break's here soon."
"I'm counting the minutes," Chris agreed. "Every single one."
A/N: 11-15-2020.
So after all these months, I finally got back and finished an update to the story! First chapter I've posted at all in *forever*. But I made it. Here I am. I still have more to do, but at least now the story is finally over to Friday afternoon, as we get into the weekend before finals at Xavier. The focus of this chapter was naturally the incident with Jensen Carter and Makayla Wallace.
I wanted to do some exposition and show how Carter came to be here, how he made Prefect so fast and everything, but right now he's acting in a moment of crisis and so none of that would be referred to. He went to the Headmaster directly after notifying Cassandra and Woodes, and is doing his best to be professional after what happened. Further detailing of the Prefect OC that Jenny wrens created for her story can easily be done in another chapter.
This happens to be the first chapter where I reference Josh Marshall, Jr. as owning a Rolls-Royce Corniche. He originally had a Range Rover, which would suit a student like him fine- especially since SUVs were vastly more popular with high school students in the US at that time than large cars were- but after thinking it over, I figured he would have wanted a car more similar to his brother's. The Bentley Azure and Rolls-Royce Corniche were virtually identical- more similar than cars of that price probably should be- but distinct nonetheless, the former focused more on speed and performance and the other on refinement and luxury. A little outlining for you car people out there.
Feedback is always welcome.