Chapter 2 Fallout

(Author's Note: I first came across the Rubaiyat quote in Isaac Asimov's science-fiction story THE END OF ETERNITY, about attempts to "unwrite" the past)

"Jane! Jane!" called out Adam in the crowded school hallway.

"Here I am. What's wrong?" she asked, noticing his unusual agitation.

"Have you heard? Somebody tried to blow up City Hall."

"What! Is my Dad okay?" A second later she remembered that Adam's father was also employed at the police station. "Your dad?"

"Nobody's hurt. Just a lot of damage. It was my Dad that called."

"I'd better find Luke before he hears something worse." Much as she'd rather stay and exchange endearments with her lover, finding Luke was more important. She tried to remember what classes he would be leaving or going to at this point, and headed toward the proper wing.

"Hey, Girardi," came a familiar female voice. Joan recognized it immediately; nobody but Grace called her Girardi. The girl caught up with Joan. "Do you know where your idiot brother went? He was supposed to meet me in the biology closet this morning to -- um -- take inventory," she concluded lamely.

"No," said Joan, who knew perfectly well what the pair did in the biology closet. "But have you heard the news? Somebody tried to blow up City Hall."

"Yeah. Weird bit of timing. If it had happened two years ago, it could have eliminated a lot of problems--"

"Not funny, Grace," said Joan coldly. Usually she ignored Grace's rhetoric when she did not agree with it, but today the danger to her father made her more sensitive.

Grace turned red as she realized her faux pas. "Um, I suppose not. I--"

"But I didn't have anything to do with it!" protested a girl's voice behind Joan.

"But you may know who did it," accused somebody else in a threatening tone. "You A-rabs always stick together."

"I'm not Arab, I'm Turkish. Please--"

"It's Maggie!" exclaimed Grace. "She's in trouble." She rushed past Joan to intervene.

Joan felt a sickening sense of déjà vu. On the first day of school this year, a group of bigots had attacked the Turkish immigrant girl Morgiana Begh, for no other reason than the fact that she wore a Muslim veil. Grace and Joan had to her defense, and Grace had later been beaten up. The incident seemed to have blown over, but now, in the wake of a mysterious bombing, Maggie was again being singled out for harassment.

"Lay off, jerks."

"Mind your own business, bitch."

"This is my business, ------", replied Grace, using a phrase that made Joan's ears burn. "Ow!"

The bullies had not taken kindly to Grace's insult, and looked like the zealous girl was in over her head. Joan rushed over, pushed the closest bully aside, and tried to pull Grace away. But Grace resisted, and somebody whacked Joan on the side of the head, knocking her down.

The blow made her dizzy, and she watched fuzzily as the fight picked up momentum. This wasn't like fall, when students had simply watched. This time people were picking sides.

Somebody pulled her to her feet. She tried to fight it, but he said "I'm trying to protect you. Come on."

He pulled her aside, then dove back into the affray. By that time Joan recognized him: it was the school quarterback. He had friends, and they gradually succeeded in pulling the combatants apart.

"Attention!" said Price's voice over the intercom. "School is now suspended. Everybody must leave the property immediately."

Typical, thought Joan as she went back to retrieve her dropped books. Don't stop the violence, just push it off school property so it's no longer his problem.

"Hi," said her brother's voice. She turned to see Luke and Grace. Luke was holding his glasses and seemed to be developing a black eye. Grace showed no obvious bruise, but her motorcycle jacket was torn and her usually slicked-down hair was mussed.

"Are you guys OK?" asked Joan in concern.

"Not entirely," admitted Grace. "But I'd feel worse if I hadn't intervened."

"Yeah," mumbled Luke. He did not sound entirely convincing, but obviously he didn't want to contradict his girlfriend.

With her head still hurting, Joan got out her cellphone and called the bookstore, to tell Sammy she couldn't show up and he would have to perform her duties. In older days a curt, non-explanatory message like that might have gotten her fired, but nowadays she reported to the home office in Boston and did not fear Sammy's wrath. She may have to explain things to the home office, but she'd take care of that later.

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When Luke and Joan arrived at home, their mother was talking to Lily at the kitchen table. Lily was saying: "I don't care about political correctness in this case. I'm his wife, and I don't want Kevin in danger when he can't run from it. He may be annoyed to be left behind in the newspaper office, but I'm relieved -- though I'd prefer that you didn't repeat that to him."

"I agree about discretion being better," said Helen, "I won't tell him."

"I won't snitch either," called out Joan.

The two adults started at her voice, and turned toward them. "You two are early," commented Helen. "I -- what happened to you?"

"We got in a fight," Joan said curtly.

Helen opened her mouth and closed it again. Apparently she had intended to question them and decided that other things took priority. "Sit down. I'll go get the first-aid kit from upstairs. Excuse me, Lily."

"Excuse me, my ass," said the former nun. "I'll help. I'm family, and I used to work in a Catholic hospital as part of my duties. I'll tend Joan, and you look after Luke."

"OK."

Lily glanced at her watch as her mother-in-law went upstairs. "Helen' s right; you two are early. Did you get kicked out of school?"

"Everybody did," said Joan. "The news of the bombing created a big fight, and Price closed school early and told everybody to go home."

"Really? That's great. I mean, that's terrible, but it gives me a great idea." Lily rushed to the kitchen phone and punched in a number. "Hello, darling. It's Lily. Did you hear that they closed down Arcadia High early because of the emergency? What do you mean, so what? It's a human-interest story, something you can write without being near the bomb site. Well, at least think about it." She hung up. "I think he'll do it, once he gets over his machismo."

"Great," said Joan. "I got a headache, but Kevin's got his story." A sudden impulse made her look at Luke. He had scarcely said a word since the fight, leaving it to Joan to make conversation. He looked pensive. If it weren't for the black eye, she might have thought he was staring into space. Yet SHE was the one who got hit on the head.

Helen came down with the first-aid kit, and the two older women got to work. Lily certainly didn't strike Joan as the Sister-of-Mercy type, but she was skillful in tending to the bump on her head, eventually getting an ice pack for the swelling. Meanwhile he heard Luke groan a bit, then ultimately thank his mother. Still no discussion of the original event.

Dinner was a dull affair. Usually her father was there, treating the sharing of food as a sort of secular ritual, replacing the religious ceremonies that he had rejected. But Dad wasn't here; he had already called to say he would be working on the case late into the evening.

After dinner Joan went upstairs to lie down. Maybe Luke was silently right: the key was not to dwell on today's events ad nauseum. How to distract herself? She picked up her portable CD player and put in her favorite disk. Time for some relaxing music. She managed to fit on her headphones so that they didn't rub the injured area.

"Hello, Joan." said a voice in her headphones.

She jumped. "You haven't written over my favorite song, have You?"

"I can reverse the process, Joan. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for physical events. 'The Moving Finger writes; and having writ / moves on; nor all your piety nor wit / shall lure it back to cancel half a line / nor all your tears wash out a word of it'. The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyam."

"Gee, thanks. What does a ruby yacht have to do with my being bumped in the head?"

"Rubaiyat is a form of Persian poetry, but that's neither here not there."

"No, it isn't. You didn't take over my CD to give me a lecture on poetry, did You?"

."No, to give you advice. Be careful to think first and act wisely in any emergency."

"You mean another emergency's coming up? Worse than today's?"

Silence.

"You know, I've got moving fingers too. Would You like me to give You one?" She wouldn't have the nerve to make the actual gesture, but He could read her mind to tell what she had in mind. She had learnt over the years that the Deity would put up with a certain amount of cheekiness, but there had to be limits..

"It would not be a good idea, Joan. Focus your hostility elsewhere, toward the evil in the world."

"All right. What about Luke, and Grace, and Adam?"

"I'm giving them the same warning, though reinforcing it among yourselves by mutual discussion would be good."

"OK. Now that you've delivered my warning, can I have my music back?"

In answer, the CD started playing her tune. But it wasn't as soothing as it had been before.