"It hasn't happened again, has it?" asked Stephanie, a note of fear in her voice.
"No. If it had this place would be swarming with police again." said Crispy logically.
The band was waiting outside the band room, which was locked. A few were pondering the exact same thing as Stephanie, but most were just agrivated and impatient. Crispy wondered whether something else had happened. In the month that they had known him, Mr. Gaylord had never arrived more than a few minutes late. It had now been almost twenty.
Everyone set about doing things to pass the time. Several people were gathered around a girl who had brought tarot cards. Ebony was watching a portable television. On the grass, fifteen boys, Brandon included, had built a human pyramid and were now attempting to make it even bigger. Crispy practiced on what was once Nick's horn.
That permanent marker had proven difficult to erradicate. After Crispy had rubbed, scrubbed, and scratched at the phantom's calling card, it became apperent that it wouldn't be removed. She opted out for covering it up with an extra long hand guard that she had created herself. It covered more of the horn than a regular one, and most of the phantom's message.
Now that she was playing first chair, Crispy found herself practicing every free moment she could find. Nothing disturbed her music anymore, now that Nick was gone.
Today was an exception to the rule. Ebony shouted, "'Special report' my ass!"
"No kidding," said Stephanie. "How could anything possibly interrupt Chobits?"
"Will you be quiet?" asked Crispy, who was now looking over their shoulders at a small picture of the missing Mr. Gaylord on the screen.
"Gaylord has been taken into custody for the murder of his predecessor, Russel Moreau snd the assoult on his student, Nick Rice," the anchor said. "The police spokesperson would give no other comment at this point. We will keep you updated as these events progress."
The entire band went silent at these words then became as loud as they had been when Mr. Moreau had been found dead.
"So he did it then?" asked Ebony.
"Seems that way. He had motive anyway." Stephanie said, clearly accepting the director's guilt.
"And what motive would that be?" asked Crispy incredulously.
"Quite simple. He wouldn't be working here if Mr. Moreau hadn't been murdered." Stephanie said matter of factly.
"But he didn't want this job even when he had been murdered. He took this job because noone else would. And why on earth would he maim his own student?" Crispy demanded.
"You don't know?" Stephanie asked. "You can't possibly..."
"What?"
"He did it for you. You're the teacher's pet. You're the only one who's even remotely nice to him. Nick would never let you have that solo, so he made him give you that solo."
Crispy stared in awe. She never before realized how stupid her friends could be.
"I think Crispy's right on this one guys," Brandon interupted. "These motives you've come up don't make any sense under these circumstances."
"The police must know something we don't," Ebony stated.
"You don't want to listen to me, I'm sure, but let me tell you what I think," Crispy said, bordering on anger. "I think that this was a false arrest. I think the police are desperate. It's been six weeks and they haven't found so much as a single suspect. They had to do something to save face."
"You think so?" inquired Mallory, who was rather interested in the conversation.
"That makes more sense than Stephanie's idea," Brandon agreed.
"We should try to help. Mr. Gaylord shouldn't be in prison," Crispy exclaimed.
"What are you going to do, break him out of his cell and buy him a ticket to Mexico?" Stephanie asked. There was no way Crispy was right on this one.
"I think the police know what they're doing, Crispy. Let them do their job and if he's innocent, they'll let him go."
"You're so naiive, Eb!" Crispy shouted. "I wouldn't be suprised if you were only saying that because Stephanie did. Do you know how many innocent people are sent to jail before the true criminal is found, if at all? If you're not going to fight this, I am. Someone has to." Crispy picked up her horn and left for anywhere where no one else was.
The wind whispered assurance to Crispy as it glided through the trees. Cicadas hissed their approval. At least Crispy hoped that was what was happening. She fancied she felt a hand on her shoulder telling her what she did was right.
"You're beter than them, Crispy." Crispy realized there was a hand on her shoulder. She turned to face Brandon, who had apparently followed her. "Your music," he said as he handed it to her. "You left it back there."
"Do you really think I did the right thing? I mean it really isn't my job, and now my friends think I'm crazy."
"I don't think you're crazy. I think that it is your job to save Mr. G. when the police aren't thinking straight."
"But now that I think about it, I don't even know where to start."
"All you have to do is prove he isn't the phantom, and the easiest way to do that is to get the phantom to do something else."
"... to do that we'll need... someone will have to sit and wait for the phantom to attack them... no one would do that."
"I would," Brandon said.
"Oh don't be stupid. This is my deal. I'll do it.," Crispy insisted.