The List
Chapter Five
Frank's face had gone a deathly shade of white. He told his parents about Joe's visit online the previous afternoon.
"HEY!" a startled shout came from the kitchen. They rushed back into the kitchen to find Joe, potholders in hand, moving the frying pan from the stove.
"I guess we're having cereal for breakfast?" he asked, raising one eyebrow at his family as they stood watching him. "Where did everybody go anyway?"
"I..uh...couldn't get the washer to start," his mother invented.
"I can fix it," offered Joe.
"Dad got it," Frank replied.
"Maybe a pop tart?" Joe asked, looking at the clock as he dumped the charred pancakes into the trash.
Frank grabbed a box of pop tarts from the cabinet and removed two packs. Joe downed a cup of juice, as did Frank, then they grabbed their backpacks and headed for the van. They had finished their breakfast by the time they arrived at campus and rushed inside, barely getting to their homerooms before the bell rang.
Frank had just arrived at his French class when he was told to report to the guidance counselor's office. When he got there, he saw his parents had all ready entered and been seated. Frank introduced himself to the counselor and took a seat.
"Now, you said you wanted to discuss Joe, but you didn't want him to know about this meeting," Patty began. "May I ask why not?"
"Because of the Creative Expressions class," Frank said and told her about what he had overheard.
"I see," she said when he had finished speaking. "To begin with, this class was created to help certain types of kids learn how to deal with stress and express themselves so others might be able to detect a sign if something is wrong. Only one student in this class has actually attempted suicide, but they all have suicidal traits which have been observed in victims of suicide. I'm sorry to say this," she continued, "but Joe does seem to fit the most common pattern."
"And what pattern is that?" asked Mrs. Hardy, holding her husband's hand.
"A lot of suicide victims have an older, more intelligent brother. Someone they are always trying to compete with both on the physical level and as an object of a parent's affection. The person is usually more athletic and more outgoing than his brother as an attempt to gain attention from a certain individual, usually, the father.
"Joe not only has these traits, but he has also been exposed to agony, misery and even pain just by his interest in being a detective. I also have been told he witnessed the murder of his girlfriend just last year," Patty concluded.
"Yeah," Frank admitted. "He wouldn't say a word for almost two days."
"He strikes me as a very sensitive person. Oh, not on the outside, but from everything I have heard about him, he's a very caring individual," Patty commented.
"Is there anything we can do to help him?" asked Mrs. Hardy, her eyes full of worry.
"Is there something I should know?" Patty asked.
"We found a bottle of Valium in Joe's pocket this morning," Mr. Hardy informed her. "Laura found them when she started to do the laundry."
"The fact that you found the bottle could be a good sign," Patty told them. "He may have sub-consciously left them for you to find."
"So, what can we do?" Frank repeated his mother's question.
"Listen to him when he tries to tell you something. Try and get him to do things with the family," she suggested. "Keep an eye on his grades and personal appearance. These are two warning signs that something is going on you should know about," she stressed.
"What about secrets?" Frank asked. "He used to tell me everything, but now he is shutting me out."
"Don't badger him but stay close," advised Patty. "Try to make him feel comfortable enough to tell you anything."
It was almost time for the bell and since Mr. and Mrs. Hardy didn't want their visit known, they thanked Patty and left. Frank returned to his French class in time to get his assignment.
Phil caught up with Frank after class. "What's going on?" he asked.
Sandy-haired, brown-eyed, eighteen-year-old Phil Cohen was Frank's best friend. Frank sighed as he came to a stop in front of his locker. "It's Joe," he admitted and told him what was going on.
"There's got to be an explanation," Phil asserted when Frank had finished. "Joe's not the type."
"But he is," Frank pointed out. "The type, I mean."
"No," Phil denied. "Give Joe time. I'm sure he found those pills and meant to tell you about them but just forgot."
"And what about Annabell?" Frank demanded.
"You said he made a promise," Phil reminded him. "It's not his secret to tell."
"Even to me?" Frank agreed. Phil shot him a look which clearly asked Frank what he would do.
"Okay, okay," Frank said. "But I'm still going to stick close to Joe and try to be nice to him."
"You? Nice to Joe?" Phil demanded, his eyes wide in mock shock. "Now, there's a novel idea."
Later, the bell rang for sixth period and Aaron and Tim came into the class room before the sound had ended. Tim saw Joe sitting in the back where he had been the previous day and went back and took the seat Valerie had occupied the day before.
Amy came into the room, closing the door behind her. "Okay, class, today I want the room divided into four groups. Let's see, there are twenty-eight present so seven people per group." She opened the drawer and pulled out a book. "Let's see who is missing," she said.
"Valerie Gambill," Joe said. Amy looked at him. "She's sick," he added.
"Thank you, Joe," she said, smiling at him.
"Todd, Jimmy and Randy are out too," Paula said.
"Thank you Paula," Amy stated, closing her attendence book. "Now, what I want each group to do is take out a sheet of paper. You only need one sheet per group," she specified as most of the students opened their notebooks.
"I want each group to think of things they have in common," Amy continued. "At least ten items for this list but if can come up with more it will be taken as extra credit." She smiled as she finished. "You may begin."
"This is the weirdest class I have ever had," Ralph grumbled, pulling up a chair next to Tim and Joe.
"You can say that again," Aaron agreed, sitting next to Ralph.
"Maybe that can be first on our list," said blond-headed, blue-eyed Craig Sommers, sitting down next to Joe.
"I thought this was a closed course," Paula said, joining the group and staring at Craig.
"It was on my schedule," Craig answered. "I just had to leave early yesterday."
"We need one more," Joe observed, intervening in the conversation when he noticed Paula's eyes shoooting daggers at Craig's laid back style. He looked over and saw Fred standing by the window. "Want to join our group?" Joe asked him.
Fred shrugged but came over and sat down.
"Who's going to keep track?" Joe asked.
"I will," Tim volunteered, pulling out a sheet of paper and a pen. "Okay. We're all agreed this is a strange class for high school?" he asked.
Everyone looked at Joe whose eyes shot open wide. "Don't look at me," he argued. "I wanted study hall." Paula laughed and Tim wrote down taking weird class as number one on the list.
"What about sports?" Tim asked. "What kind does everyone like?"
"I hate all sports," Paula said.
"Me too," Ralph agreed.
"That won't make the list. Joe and Craig are both athletes," Tim pointed out.
"Does everyone like the beach?" Joe asked. Another round of agreement made the beach number two on the list.
"Pizza?" asked Paula, and it made number three.
"This isn't so hard after all," Aaron noted. "How about rock and roll?" Tim added it to the list.
Things slowed down a bit after that and class was almost over and they only had nine things on the list. "Okay," Joe said. "One more for the minimum. Any ideas?"
Aaron leaned back in his chair with a snort. "And I said this was easy?"
"I have an idea," Paula said. "Let's all empty our pockets and see if we can come up with one item we all carry?"
Although the idea was met with grumbling, all seven teens emptied their pokets onto their desks. Everything from lipstick to rubberbands lay in front of the group. There was a sudden crash as the desk behind Joe crashed to the floor. Joe and Tim picked it up then sat back down at their own desks.
"Anyone a klutz besides Joe?" Ralph asked.
"Ha ha," Joe retorted. "I never touched it."
"Whatever," Aaron said. "Let's get this over with."
After scrounging around, they finally managed to find one personal item they all carried. A comb. Tim wrote it down as the bell rang announcing the end of the school day.
"Please, everyone, sign you name at the top of the sheet and leave it on my desk as you leave. Remember, tonight's assignment is to find a poem that you can relate to and bring it with you to class tomorrow," Amy reminded the class.
Joe headed through the hall to his locker. As he reached for the lock, a hand was put on his shoulder and he was spun around.
"What?" Joe asked warily, seeing Tim staring at him.
"I've been wanting to see you in private all day," Tim snarled.
Chapter Five
Frank's face had gone a deathly shade of white. He told his parents about Joe's visit online the previous afternoon.
"HEY!" a startled shout came from the kitchen. They rushed back into the kitchen to find Joe, potholders in hand, moving the frying pan from the stove.
"I guess we're having cereal for breakfast?" he asked, raising one eyebrow at his family as they stood watching him. "Where did everybody go anyway?"
"I..uh...couldn't get the washer to start," his mother invented.
"I can fix it," offered Joe.
"Dad got it," Frank replied.
"Maybe a pop tart?" Joe asked, looking at the clock as he dumped the charred pancakes into the trash.
Frank grabbed a box of pop tarts from the cabinet and removed two packs. Joe downed a cup of juice, as did Frank, then they grabbed their backpacks and headed for the van. They had finished their breakfast by the time they arrived at campus and rushed inside, barely getting to their homerooms before the bell rang.
Frank had just arrived at his French class when he was told to report to the guidance counselor's office. When he got there, he saw his parents had all ready entered and been seated. Frank introduced himself to the counselor and took a seat.
"Now, you said you wanted to discuss Joe, but you didn't want him to know about this meeting," Patty began. "May I ask why not?"
"Because of the Creative Expressions class," Frank said and told her about what he had overheard.
"I see," she said when he had finished speaking. "To begin with, this class was created to help certain types of kids learn how to deal with stress and express themselves so others might be able to detect a sign if something is wrong. Only one student in this class has actually attempted suicide, but they all have suicidal traits which have been observed in victims of suicide. I'm sorry to say this," she continued, "but Joe does seem to fit the most common pattern."
"And what pattern is that?" asked Mrs. Hardy, holding her husband's hand.
"A lot of suicide victims have an older, more intelligent brother. Someone they are always trying to compete with both on the physical level and as an object of a parent's affection. The person is usually more athletic and more outgoing than his brother as an attempt to gain attention from a certain individual, usually, the father.
"Joe not only has these traits, but he has also been exposed to agony, misery and even pain just by his interest in being a detective. I also have been told he witnessed the murder of his girlfriend just last year," Patty concluded.
"Yeah," Frank admitted. "He wouldn't say a word for almost two days."
"He strikes me as a very sensitive person. Oh, not on the outside, but from everything I have heard about him, he's a very caring individual," Patty commented.
"Is there anything we can do to help him?" asked Mrs. Hardy, her eyes full of worry.
"Is there something I should know?" Patty asked.
"We found a bottle of Valium in Joe's pocket this morning," Mr. Hardy informed her. "Laura found them when she started to do the laundry."
"The fact that you found the bottle could be a good sign," Patty told them. "He may have sub-consciously left them for you to find."
"So, what can we do?" Frank repeated his mother's question.
"Listen to him when he tries to tell you something. Try and get him to do things with the family," she suggested. "Keep an eye on his grades and personal appearance. These are two warning signs that something is going on you should know about," she stressed.
"What about secrets?" Frank asked. "He used to tell me everything, but now he is shutting me out."
"Don't badger him but stay close," advised Patty. "Try to make him feel comfortable enough to tell you anything."
It was almost time for the bell and since Mr. and Mrs. Hardy didn't want their visit known, they thanked Patty and left. Frank returned to his French class in time to get his assignment.
Phil caught up with Frank after class. "What's going on?" he asked.
Sandy-haired, brown-eyed, eighteen-year-old Phil Cohen was Frank's best friend. Frank sighed as he came to a stop in front of his locker. "It's Joe," he admitted and told him what was going on.
"There's got to be an explanation," Phil asserted when Frank had finished. "Joe's not the type."
"But he is," Frank pointed out. "The type, I mean."
"No," Phil denied. "Give Joe time. I'm sure he found those pills and meant to tell you about them but just forgot."
"And what about Annabell?" Frank demanded.
"You said he made a promise," Phil reminded him. "It's not his secret to tell."
"Even to me?" Frank agreed. Phil shot him a look which clearly asked Frank what he would do.
"Okay, okay," Frank said. "But I'm still going to stick close to Joe and try to be nice to him."
"You? Nice to Joe?" Phil demanded, his eyes wide in mock shock. "Now, there's a novel idea."
Later, the bell rang for sixth period and Aaron and Tim came into the class room before the sound had ended. Tim saw Joe sitting in the back where he had been the previous day and went back and took the seat Valerie had occupied the day before.
Amy came into the room, closing the door behind her. "Okay, class, today I want the room divided into four groups. Let's see, there are twenty-eight present so seven people per group." She opened the drawer and pulled out a book. "Let's see who is missing," she said.
"Valerie Gambill," Joe said. Amy looked at him. "She's sick," he added.
"Thank you, Joe," she said, smiling at him.
"Todd, Jimmy and Randy are out too," Paula said.
"Thank you Paula," Amy stated, closing her attendence book. "Now, what I want each group to do is take out a sheet of paper. You only need one sheet per group," she specified as most of the students opened their notebooks.
"I want each group to think of things they have in common," Amy continued. "At least ten items for this list but if can come up with more it will be taken as extra credit." She smiled as she finished. "You may begin."
"This is the weirdest class I have ever had," Ralph grumbled, pulling up a chair next to Tim and Joe.
"You can say that again," Aaron agreed, sitting next to Ralph.
"Maybe that can be first on our list," said blond-headed, blue-eyed Craig Sommers, sitting down next to Joe.
"I thought this was a closed course," Paula said, joining the group and staring at Craig.
"It was on my schedule," Craig answered. "I just had to leave early yesterday."
"We need one more," Joe observed, intervening in the conversation when he noticed Paula's eyes shoooting daggers at Craig's laid back style. He looked over and saw Fred standing by the window. "Want to join our group?" Joe asked him.
Fred shrugged but came over and sat down.
"Who's going to keep track?" Joe asked.
"I will," Tim volunteered, pulling out a sheet of paper and a pen. "Okay. We're all agreed this is a strange class for high school?" he asked.
Everyone looked at Joe whose eyes shot open wide. "Don't look at me," he argued. "I wanted study hall." Paula laughed and Tim wrote down taking weird class as number one on the list.
"What about sports?" Tim asked. "What kind does everyone like?"
"I hate all sports," Paula said.
"Me too," Ralph agreed.
"That won't make the list. Joe and Craig are both athletes," Tim pointed out.
"Does everyone like the beach?" Joe asked. Another round of agreement made the beach number two on the list.
"Pizza?" asked Paula, and it made number three.
"This isn't so hard after all," Aaron noted. "How about rock and roll?" Tim added it to the list.
Things slowed down a bit after that and class was almost over and they only had nine things on the list. "Okay," Joe said. "One more for the minimum. Any ideas?"
Aaron leaned back in his chair with a snort. "And I said this was easy?"
"I have an idea," Paula said. "Let's all empty our pockets and see if we can come up with one item we all carry?"
Although the idea was met with grumbling, all seven teens emptied their pokets onto their desks. Everything from lipstick to rubberbands lay in front of the group. There was a sudden crash as the desk behind Joe crashed to the floor. Joe and Tim picked it up then sat back down at their own desks.
"Anyone a klutz besides Joe?" Ralph asked.
"Ha ha," Joe retorted. "I never touched it."
"Whatever," Aaron said. "Let's get this over with."
After scrounging around, they finally managed to find one personal item they all carried. A comb. Tim wrote it down as the bell rang announcing the end of the school day.
"Please, everyone, sign you name at the top of the sheet and leave it on my desk as you leave. Remember, tonight's assignment is to find a poem that you can relate to and bring it with you to class tomorrow," Amy reminded the class.
Joe headed through the hall to his locker. As he reached for the lock, a hand was put on his shoulder and he was spun around.
"What?" Joe asked warily, seeing Tim staring at him.
"I've been wanting to see you in private all day," Tim snarled.