One For Justice
Date of events: Wednesday, May 10th
Standing outside Castle Rock Middle School's imposing wrought-iron gates, a sense of unease settled over me. The building stretched its weathered red-brick wings from east to west, its windows uniform and seemingly endless. A faded American flag hung limply from the roof of the second floor, its faint swaying the only sign of movement amidst the stillness, aside from the rustling of maple leaves from the surrounding trees. Despite the quiet, school was in session.
Approaching the front door, I couldn't shake the tension. It creeped up my back and tightened my chest. Though I loved learning and my grades were above average when I was in school, classrooms felt like claustrophobic prisons to me.
Sit up straight. Stay seated until you're told you can move. Stay quiet until you're told you can speak. Don't even breathe until we say you do teachers make us feel that way - or me, at least? OK - so, there was always that one lovely teacher, but most seem to ride that position of authority like they're straddling a bull, trampling down kids who were helpless to do anything about it. How is that even allowed? They're employed to educate, not to whip us in line to join the army.
I vividly remember getting sticked across the back of the legs once. The girl beside me kept talking to me, and when I finally told her to be quiet so we wouldn't get in trouble, the teacher's eyes snapped onto me, and she loudly called me forth. Only me. Having the whole class staring at me as I lowered my socks before feeling a stinging smack to my skin was one of the most humiliating moments of my life.
Still, today, neither unease nor bad memories could hold me back. I had a job to do.
The lobby was deserted, with only the echo of the ticking wall clock breaking the silence. It read 2:45 pm, just fifteen minutes until the end of the school day. The receptionist was nowhere in sight, so I shook the little bell. Its tinkle echoed up through the high ceiling and down the long corridors that extended to the east and the west. Despite the spaciousness of the room, it felt stiflingly warm in there. Every window was firmly shut, and the thick foliage outside blocked most of the natural light. Only a solitary sunbeam streamed through, illuminating the fine dust particles from the brick walls. They made my nose itch and tickle, and I had to hold back a sneeze.
After a few more impatient rings of the bell, the secretary plodded in from somewhere down the hall, her lack of enthusiasm doing little to lift the gloom. She settled behind the reception desk, and the tattered chair protested her weight with a pained squeal. She grabbed a sizable rubber stamp from a jumbled mess of cluttered papers and set to work stamping letters with a dull thud that echoed around the room.
"Err…excuse me…" I said, irked that I had to say anything at all, considering I was standing one foot in front of her.
She glanced up at me, her face and eyes sagging like a Basset Hound. "Yeah?"
"I'm need to speak Ms. Anderson, please." As Chris explained, Ms. Anderson was his math's teacher and, apparently, the vice-principal.
"You a student?"
"No."
"You a parent?"
"No."Geez, do I look like a parent?
She found a clipboard and a pen underneath the paper chaos and handed it to me. "Fill this in to make an appointment."
I took the clipboard and scoffed at the stupidly long list of questions. "Can't you just direct me to her office? I only need a brief chat. I'm happy to wait until school is out."
She rolled her eyes, pulled a thick ledger from the rubble and dropped it on the desk with a thud that sent the surrounding papers scattering. She flipped it open to the current date in May and ran her fingers down the page. "Nothing today... nothing tomorrow..." Her fingers turned a chunk of pages at once, and she was now at the end of June. "The earliest I can get you in is next month."
"Next month? But I only need to speak with her for five minutes!"
"I'll schedule your appointment for five minutes, then." She grinned, her coffee stained teeth gleaming as she relished in watching my frustration grow. "And I'll still need that form."
June. By then, this whole thing would be over, faded into obscurity. I thought to ask for an appointment with the principal instead but, look, this woman was clearly unwilling to help me. I couldn't, wouldn't let this opportunity slip through my fingers when Chris's future hung in the balance. The injustice of what happened to him raged inside me, and I couldn't shake my fierce desire to make things right.
I glanced down the east and west corridors. I was sure Ms. Anderson's office couldn't be far, but the corridors were just as bricky and plain as the reception area, and there were no telling features that hinted at which one a Deputy Principal might be hiding down.
I looked down at the clipboard again, anxiety coursed through me, urging me to move.
I dropped it on the secretary's desk and ran.
"Stop! You can't go through there!" her sluggish voice called behind me.
With no idea where I was going or even if I'd taken the right corridor, I kept on until the western wing converged with a north wing. I paused to gaze down both corridors which stretched into the distance like mirror images of each other with their lines of institutional doors and lockers. A moment of worry set in as I realized I could get lost in this maze before finishing the one thing I came for.
With the secretary gaining on me like a wounded woman on a mission (I didn't realize at first, but she was limping on her ankle) I headed down the north wing. It was then that something caught my attention at the far end. A few students were seated in a line outside a door as if waiting their turn for something. And I doubted it was to see the nurse.
The 'Ms. Anderson' plan was dropped as I went straight to plan B. I felt a little more nervous about this but, as I promised Chris, I would go as far up the ranks as necessary. I hustled towards the kids who were all boys, roughly around Chris's age. Only some were seated, but others were playing around in the hall and get a little rowdy. The seated ones stared at me curiously as I bowled into the group and eyed the door labelled 'Principal' on a gold placard.
"Join the back of the queue," said one.
"Cassie?!" Chris seemed to come out of nowhere like a sudden burst of familiarity in the chaos.
"Chris?!"
"What are you doing here?" He pulled me aside, looking a bit disheveled after rough and tumbling with one of the other kids. "I thought you said Friday," he said, glancing behind us to make sure we were out of immediate earshot.
"Well, the diner's dead quiet, so I took the opportunity and came today. What areyoudoing here?"
"Eh… I got caught playing Rummy for bets in class," he snickered.
"Chris!" I said, raising my voice a little loudly. "Getting sent to the principal's office is the opposite of what you need to be doing! Getting these people to reverse their decision will be hard enough as it is!"
"Who's that, Chambers?" one of the boys jeered in a sing-song voice. "Is that your big sister come to get you out of trouble?"
"Go jump, Davidson," Chris retorted, his smirk growing. "We all saw yourmommycome in yesterday to hand in your homework."
"Well, at least Ididmy homework!"
"Doesn't count if your mommy did it for y-"
A high-pitched voice cracked like a whip behind us. "Be seated!"
Chris and the other boys who had been playing around snapped onto the bench seat like the woman had turned on a high-powered magnet.
She paced down the line of boys with a rigid aura of authority, holding herself with an imposing stature. She wore a grey suit-jacket and skirt, had caked layer upon layer of makeup on her aging skin, and topped it with a bright-red lipstick that was applied so boldly it looked like she had used the entire stick. But despite her looking close to collecting that social security payment, there was no doubt in my mind that if even one of these strapping, young, fit lads made a run for it, she would catch and tackle them to the ground without even working up a sweat. But judging by how still they all stayed, I doubted they would dare pull such a stunt. They were caught tight in the grip of her authority, and I felt for them; I really did. After all, who was she to make them feel that way? She's only human, just like the rest of us.
"You will remain here until you have spoken with the principal," she stated.
"But… Miss!" Davidson protested. "There's so many of us, and school's out in two minutes!"
"You will remain here as instructed!"
The boys nodded obediently. "Yes, Ms. Anderson."
"You're Ms. Anderson?" I asked.
Turning on her bright red heels, she locked onto me, her eyes gleaming with sophistication from behind her stylish cat-eye spectacles. "You're not a student here. What are you doing here, girl?"
The secretary had halfway dragged herself down the north wing and was leaning on a locker, struggling to catch her breath. "She doesn't… have an… appointment!"
"Loitering in this area without a prior appointment is strictly prohibited!"
"I'm not loitering, I was searching for you. I would like a few minutes of your time, if you please?"
"You want to speak with me? What about?"
"It's regarding one of your students." I glanced at Chris on the bench, and he looked straight back at me, wide-eyed.
"Precisely which student?" Ms. Anderson asked.
This is our chance! Why don't you want to do it?I silently urged Chris.
He looked back at me with an expression that screamed,I didn't want to be here 'while' you were doing it!
It was like we were having a telepathic conversation.
"Is this the student?" Ms. Anderson pointed at Chris, but she avoided making direct eye contact with him.
It's now or never,I told him gently, silently, and after a moment of hesitation, he nodded in agreement.
"Yes," I replied, "Chris Chambers."
Her face twitched at the name. "And are you… related to Christopher in any way?"
"No, I'm just a…"
"Then we have nothing to discuss. Now, promptly remove yourself from the premises or answer to the authorities." She held her chin high as the sharp click of her heels echoed in the tense silence.
Just then, the brassy drone of a hand bell rang out and reverberated down the long hallways, reaching every nook and cranny. Not a second later, the halls were abuzz with students pouring out of classrooms and flooding the corridor. Our little group was engulfed in a sea of chaos, and I steadied my stance as I was brushed and knocked around by shoulders and backpacks. Funnily though, the sea parted around Ms. Anderson as if she were a waterproof pole.
I edged to the side to get out of everyone's way, and huddled against the principal's door, trying not to get my toes trodden on. To my surprise, the door opened at my back and I fell through it, losing my balance and stumbling into the boy who had opened it.
"Sorry…" I told him, stepping aside.
A firm hand landed on his shoulder. "I'll be checking to make sure you sign up for the team, my boy - you'll be great!"
"Sure, Sir," the boy grinned with fresh enthusiasm. "I'll do it tomorrow." He looked for a gap in the crowd before stepping out and being swallowed up by it.
There I was, standing right beside the man himself. I was about to apologize for entering without his invite, but he spoke before I could.
"That boy just needs something to help him feel excited about life," he said with a grin. His voice was naturally loud; it was like standing next to an enthusiastic drill sergeant. "He's not a bad kid. He's just bored."
Standing at ease at a modest 6 feet, the principal was dressed in a crisp, meticulously ironed button-up shirt, high-waisted slacks, and shoes polished to a mirror shine. His pink scalp was also polished to a sheen that reflected the fluorescent light that overhung our heads in his tiny office. But despite his disciplined neatness, he carried an air of common sense. I thought back to what I had heard about him, about how he was new in town and him advocating for Chris to enroll in college prep classes. I had always wondered if he had an ulterior motive like Chris suspected. I mean, it made sense that, if he got Gordie as a new star student, he could leverage the situation to bolster his image in his new role. But… even with that question at the forefront of mind, I couldn't help but like the guy.
"It's very encouraging to hear that you're seeing things from that angle," I replied.
"Anyway…" His soft blue eyes squinted at me through his glasses as he pushed them back up onto his nose. "Can I help you, young lady? Hey… aren't you a waitress at the Blue Point Diner in town here?"
"Actually… yes," I grinned back, chuffed and surprised that he knew me. "My name is Cassandra O'Connor. I prefer Cassie, though."
"Yes, that's right - Cassie. I brought my family in to dine about a month ago. It was a delightful experience, so thank you for that." He nodded respectfully, and… I blinked at him in disbelief.
"Oh - I do remember you!" I said as the memory hit me. "No pickles, right?"
"You have a good memory!" he laughed.
"Thanks. And you're very welcome!"
His strong shoulders straightened with impeccable posture as he clasped his hands behind his back. "And how can I be of service toyoutoday, Miss Cassie?"
By now, Chris was standing in the doorway with his jaw agape as he saw me getting along with the man he thought had used him. I gave him an assuring smile, hoping he'd trust my judgement in thinking he was wrong.
"Chris?" the principal said. "Do you need something? It's past three-"
Right at this moment, the boy who had been at the front of the queue outside pushed past Chris and entered the room. "Hey… Mr. Hawthorne… Sir… it's my turn. I mean… it's just, I'm already gonna be late home, Sir."
"It's home time, Son. You're free to leave."
"But Ms. Anderson said we couldn't go until we'd talked to you."
"We?" The principal's footsteps echoed in the emptied hall as he stepped out and caught sight of the line of boys still waiting on the bench seat.
"What… how long have you all been out of class?!"
"Hard to say, Sir."
"Half an hour or more, Sir," came the replies.
I couldn't see the boys from where I stood in the office, but I could feel the shift in the air as the principal's calm expression turned into frustration. His lips pressed together tightly and shook his bald head which darkened into a deeper shade of pink.
"Well, you're all free to leave," the principal said sternly. "And I want you back in classes in the morning."
"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir," the boys chimed before shuffling off.
"Ms. Anderson!" The principal's voice reverberated around the hall walls like a foghorn. "In my office, Ma'am."
Again, I couldn't see what was happening in the hallway, nor could I discern Ms. Anderson's whereabouts, but I could hear the sound of doors opening and closing in the corridor.
"What are you doing?" the principal asked her.
"A girl was here," Ms. Anderson's sharp voice replied. "I asked her to leave but-"
"Nope… she didn't leave. I'm… telling you!" That was the secretary.
"She's in here with me," said the principal.
I winced. My safe, secret hiding place had been blown. The sound of heels clicking on the linoleum grew louder until Chris's teacher, the vice-principal, tainted the room with her presence. When she laid eyes on me and saw that I gained an audience with her superior against her say-so, I swear her face would have cracked if she didn't have all that makeup holding it together. "You were told to leave the premises!"
"It's quite alright, Ms. Anderson," the principal said, then he turned to me. "Cassie, could you please give us a moment? I'll be no longer than two minutes."
Chris and I smartly did as we were told and moved into the hallway as Ms. Anderson watched us pass with a crazy-eyed stare like something out of a horror movie.
The principal shut the two of them in the office, finally granting Chris and I a moment for a private chat. But we didn't talk. We didn't say a word to each other. The happenings in the principal's office were far too riveting to miss.
"Would you care to tell me why there is yet another line of young lads wasting precious educational time sitting outside my office?"
"They misbehaved," came Ms. Anderson's stern reply.
"What does that mean? Did they inflict physical harm on anyone? Did they purposefully damage or destroy school property?"
"Well, I don't know the specific details-"
"Ms. Anderson. Please see to it that menial maters are resolved in class. The last boy was sent to me because he hadn't finished his homework. Now, explain to me how sitting on a bench outside my office helps to resolve that."
"Well! Perhaps if you reinstate the strap-"
"I was in the United States Army for fifteen years! A sergeant in World War II for six of them! For all these years I have worked with boys just like ours, and I know how to help pave a way forward for them to become upstanding citizens in society. If we ever go to war again, these are the men who will see us to victory - so, don't forget how important they are to us. We are not only here to teach, but guide. We need to focus on every individual's growth by encouraging both academic excellence and moral development, and you will simply never achieve that by whipping them or forcing them to pointlessly sit in the halls! Now, if you feel I have taken a tool out of the teachers hands, then let's call a meeting this afternoon and I will inset a new set of tools. They will be moral, and they will be proper, and they will boost confidence in our pupils, not demoralize them!"
There was silence. Literal silence.
"I will arrange a meeting for 4 p.m sharp," Ms. Anderson's pitchy voice croaked.
Mr. Hawthorne opened his office door, and Chris and I pulled away from it, pretending we hadn't been listening. The principal took a breath, straightened himself, and his gentle smile returned. "Right, would you like to come in now, young lady? Ms. Anderson, you're dismissed."
Chris and I shuffled inside with Ms. Anderson's wide eyes tracking us again as we passed her, but she didn't move, not even a muscle.
"Ms. Anderson, you're dismissed," the principal repeated.
She hesitated for a moment, and you could see her wily mind ticking over. "I believe this girl was looking for me," she said dryly. "So, I'm sure this matter will be better discussed between her and myself inmyoffice."
It was then that I realized she knew. She absolutely knew why I had visited that day. She'd known all along.
"But, Ms. Anderson," I smirked. "It was only minutes ago that you refused to speak with me. Why the change of heart?"
The principal leaned on his grand, oak desk and sighed, wiping his brow. I could tell his patience was starting to wear thin, and I regretted my comment.
"We will discuss this right here, right now," he said. "Now, tell me what this is all about, Cassie. Chris, does this concern you? I'm assuming that's why you're still here."
"Yes, it concerns me," Chris affirmed. There was a noticeable shift in his demeanor then. He folded his arms and squared his shoulders, shedding any hint of anxiety as he met the gazes of both principals directly. It was as though he had reached a tipping point, no longer willing to tolerate being pushed around or having his worth dictated to him. There was a sense of readiness about him as he dug his heels in to stand his ground, and I positioned myself right beside him, ready to support him in whatever might come next.
Mr. Hawthorne's expression turned to genuine concern. "I thought things were going so well with you, Chris. What's the issue?"
"I didn't cheat," he spat out, his words laced with frustration.
I placed a supportive hand on his shoulder. "As I'm sure you're aware," I said, "Chris is no longer welcome to study in the college prep classes, and we're…" (furious, flabbergasted, outraged… oh the words I could have picked) "…unsatisfied about the reason why."
Mr. Hawthorne's brow furrowed deeply. "Just one minute - what do you mean he's no longer in the college prep classes?"
Chris and I exchanged glances. "You mean… you'renotaware?" I asked.
"I had to fight tooth and nail to get himinthere! Ms. Anderson! Why has Chris been ejected, and why was I not informed?"
Ms. Anderson looked like she'd just been caught with both hands deep in the cookie jar. Her red lips parted with uncertainty and surprise, and even beneath all those layers of makeup, I could see a blush creep onto her cheeks.
"He never belonged there in the first place," she declared firmly, lifting her chin in a bid to uphold her dignity. "The whole family are nothing but drunks and jailbirds, and Christopher has confirmed that he is no exception."
"How?!"
"When he stole the entire school's milk fund."
Mr. Hawthorne's eyes rolled. "That excuse again? The boy is sorry. He even returned the money to one of the teachers here, and she never reported it! If she still taught here, I would haveherfacing charges!"
I glanced at Chris, surprised by that new piece of the story.
"That was never confirmed," Ms. Anderson said. "The boy cannot be trusted. He's a fibber and a cheat - which is precisely why he was promptly expelled from the class." Ms. Anderson's earlier blush had vanished, and she was now perched on the tips of her toes, finger jabbing at the air as she fought to defend herself.
"But, I didn't cheat!" Chris cut in, rising onto his own toes as he practically shouted at her. "I studied hard for that test!"
"This is a very serious allegation, Ms. Anderson," Mr. Hawthorne said. "Did anyone actuallywitnessChris copying another student's paper?"
She ruefully floated down from her high-haunches, shoulders slumping. "Well… no."
"And did he have access to the exam papers before or after the exam took place?"
"No," she admitted. Her blush returned. I had to give it to her, Ms. Anderson was a lot of things, but least she wasn't an outright liar.
"Then, what evidence do you have that he cheated?"
"Because his grade fell within the top 99.2% percentile of the entire Oregon state!"
My jaw dropped with pride. I could have cried. "Chris! You never told me that! Way, to go!"
"I… I never knew," he said softly. I think he was in shock.
"And you don't think the boy is capable of it, Ms. Anderson?" Mr. Hawthorne asked. "Is that the crux of the story here?"
"This boy has never achieved as much as 20% in any test he's ever sat in my class. And for him to suddenly score so high - Mr. Hawthorne, even you must see this as somewhat suspicious."
"There is a reason why I pushed for him to join those classes in the first place. I'm sure you've noticed how he and Gordie Lachance stick together like glue - where one goes, the other goes. Now, I firmly believe that if Gordie thrives in this class, Chris will too, and that is precisely what is happening here. Ms. Anderson, without any evidence of wrongdoing, I insist you reinstate Chris's grade and reenroll him in the College prep classes."
Chris's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the same moment as mine. It was almost comical. But it didn't last.
"It's not that simple, Sir," Ms. Anderson stated. "This matter has already been deliberated by the board, and Christopher is officially out. There wasn't one nay vote raised in disfavor of it."
"When did this happen?" Mr. Hawthorne asked. Beads of sweat were starting to form on his reddened head, evidence that his frustration was rising to boiling point. "Why was I not part of this meeting? Why am I not being informed of things that are going on here when I am ultimately responsible for every student and teacher under this roof?!"
"It's 'cause you're still new around here," Chris said. "You're still an outsider to them. Some of the people in this town, the ones who've had families here for generations, they think they run it. And they don't like change." He and Ms. Anderson locked eyes in a silent battle of wills.
"Well, things need to change," the principal declared. "This school is hemorrhaging funds and losing the support of our parents. The threat of closure is very real."
"It's shutting down?" Chris and I asked in unison.
"No. The State Department of Education sent me specifically to fix this school, and that is 100% going to happen."
"So, what about Chris?" I spoke up. "Are we going to fix his situation too?"
The principal smirked. "And what do you suggest we do, Miss Cassie? From the look on your face, it seems like you already have an idea."
"I do, as a matter of fact. It's simple. Write Chris a new exam, have him sit alone in a room, but personally supervise him, of course, then, let the results speak for themselves. If he passes, there's no way the board can deny him. And if they do, I'll raise this whole thing with The State Department of Education myself."
The principal pondered my suggestion before turning to Chris. "Would you be willing to do that, son?"
Chris met Ms. Anderson's gaze again with determination shining in his eyes. "Yeah. Hell yeah."
"I am not in favor of this plan," Ms. Anderson retorted.
"Well, if you have a better plan to help the lad get a fair go, I'm all ears," the principal said.
Ms. Anderson's red lips tightened, and her hands were clasped so tightly behind her back that her fingers were turning a scary shade of purple. I could understand why she'd be in disfavor. If Chris passed with flying colors, her competency might be brought into question.
"Then, it's settled," Mr. Hawthorne said. "Ms. Anderson, source Christopher a new exam, please. He'll sit it right here in my office at the end of the week."
Chris blinked away a few stray tears as he shook his head in disbelief, astonishment, gratitude - I'm sure the kid was an emotional wreck on the inside, but he held it together well. "Thank you, sir," he said.
As for me, I wanted to drop to my knees and kiss the guy's feet.
"Let's put an end to this nonsense once and for all. Chris, don't take anything for granted. You study for this exam even harder than the last one," the principal urged.
"Oh no," Ms. Anderson interjected. "He doesn't get more time for study. If he says he's ready, then he should sit the test this afternoon. I have an alternative exam all ready to go."
"But school is out. We haven't arranged anything with the boy's parents," the principal pointed out.
"I'll phone them."
"We don't have a phone, Miss."
"Then I'll send someone."
"Chris, are you up for this right now?" the principal questioned.
"Yes, sir," Chris replied resolutely.
"I think there should be one condition added here," I quickly threw in. "If Chris scores higher in this exam than the last, he should be able to keep it."
"And if he fails, he's out of the class. For good," Ms. Anderson affirmed.
I placed a hand on Chris's shoulder for luck and felt him trembling, but his face remained stoic.
"You'll be absolutely fine," I reassured him. And I had no doubt he would be.
As I strolled back through the school's wrought iron gates that afternoon, a tingling sensation, a buzz of energy coursed through me in the wake of what I'd just done. It seemed too absurd to be real, and yet, it happened. Sure, having such a great guy like Mr. Hawthorne at the helm helped a great deal, but I was quietly proud. And it made me think to myself, if I could do that, what else could I do? Maybe even saving the diner was not beyond my reach?