Addie Historical High
Just as any other day, the bell rang and the students were in their seats. The classroom was bright, lit by the industrial bulbs encased behind large plastic sheets. The ceiling panels a musty beige, as were the walls, and so even was the hard carpet flooring, trampled and frayed, worn underfoot after years of abuse. So although well lit, the spacious room had an almost caustic factory feel to it. The few windows were well above eye level, encrusted with a film of water spots and unreachable anyway without effort should anyone actually desire to clean them. The students settled in their chairs, some fiddling nervously with pencils or pens, other shuffling papers, but none talking, which was extremely odd for a classroom filled with none older than fifteen years of age. They all waited anxiously, some looking down at their desks, others simply encapsulated within their own mind, still others looking at the instructional teaching aids placed upon the walls- a panoply of posters, knick knacks, papers, decorations, and similar decorum meant to add some color to an otherwise dreary room. Today however, those posters and odds and ends evoked an uncomfortable familiar feeling. For some, a twist of guilt. For others, sadness. And for still more, questions.
The silence of the room grew as the seconds passed. Movement seemed a disturbance, an uncomfortable feeling even more uncomfortable than the growing silence itself. Like still water, the quiet intimidated those present to refrain from motion, lest the ripples disrupt the glassy reflection.
And so when the school administrator and an entourage of his staff entered the room in a fluster, the stillness and paleness of it all became intensely magnified for one last moment before being ruptured.
Administrator Johnson stood before the class, looking down on their young faces and soaking in the sheer magnitude of the responsibility he was now faced with. He stood silently at first, acutely aware of his own urge to remain silent, before reaching into the lining of his jacket, where he pulled out a faded burgundy handkerchief. He dabbed his forehead and then used the material to stroke back the remaining hair of his receding widow’s peak. He replaced the handkerchief, soaked with sweat, and looked to his staff waiting in a tight group near the door. Mr. Johnson wasn’t a heavy man, and the Tennessee weather was actually quite mild. He cleared his throat.
"Class… Students.”
He cleared his throat again. He clenched his fists.
“Students, as you know, Mr. Nally…”
Has been removed? Has left us? Will not be your teacher? Has been suspended?
“…has been given a leave of absence until the situation has been resolved. I can’t say whether he will be coming back or not because, truth be told, I simply do not know. Some of you know, or think you know rather, what the situation is. I would ask all of you to refrain yourselves from speculating or allowing rumors to be spread until all the facts have been revealed. In the present time, Mrs. Tenenbaum, the charming woman near the door, will be assuming responsibilities as your instructor.”
There. That wasn’t so bad.
“It is extremely…”
Three rows back, slightly to the right of center, Jackie Austin, a petite caucasian girl, brunette with green eyes, smothered a muffled cry. It was useless. The result was instantaneous. Almost simultaneously, the entire class, seventeen girls and eleven boys, all of the highest character, began sobbing.
Oh dear.
“It is extremely important that you maintain positive spirits and…” He trembled. This was exactly as he imagined it. He felt the muscles of lips turn, his eyes grow weary, and the emotions within him rise to his throat. Administrator Johnson swallowed hard, clenched his fists tighter still. The sobbing grew louder.
“You must do all you can to preserve yourselves in this time and please aid Mrs. Tenenbaum in adjusting to her new environment.” He turned and quickly started out the door. As he left, Mrs. Tenenbaum looked first to him for guidance, and receiving no acknowledgment, turned to her very bleak situation.
* * * * * *
It was October. The warm summer still lingered, but the air had changed. A wind, a change of color in the trees, something. It happened every year and Daniel Nally loved it. It was as if everything natural changed form just a bit. The sense of that first change before autumn, there really was something unique in it. And this was the first day that he sensed it in this year.
His step quickened, and he lifted his face to the breeze, soaking in the first day of the change in seasons. Daniel could already imagine the Tennessee winds whisking red and yellow leaves across the sidewalk and through downtown. He felt thankful to have such senses to bring the most remote natural changes to a level that he could experience. The sun was three hours high, and puffy white cotton clouds could be seen, seemingly hugging the very stratosphere, ready to swim off beyond the atmosphere itself. He reached the steps of Addie Historical High School.
“Good Morning Daniel.”
“Good Morning Jack! Fishing again this weekend?”
The old guard looked up from his paper, and took his coffee cup off of the school’s bronze sign. “Of course. Nothing but catfish, proud to say. When are you going to join me again?”
“How about this weekend? But only if Mary fries the catch…”
“Sure, sure. Say Saturday at seven?” He waived as Daniel reached for the door handle.
“See you then.” Daniel felt the cool metal bar in his left hand and opened the heavy oak door, gripping his leather case in the other hand. He walked down the hall, passing the occasional early student. The girls smiled at him, the boys would give a hearty ‘Hey Mr. Nally!’ which he would return with a hearty ‘Hey!’ right back.
He reached his classroom, and opened the door. Daniel flicked the light switch, and the industrial lights came slowly on, as if awakening from sleep, yawning and stretching as they turned to their duty. Daniel reached his desk and dropped his briefcase to the side, removed his suit jacket and placed it on the back of his chair. He straightened his tie and took a seat.
The students began to trickle in, each giving Daniel a greeting. As the bulk of the students pressed through the door, some only nodded, others still rubbing the sleep from their eyes. The bell rang and the children were all in their seats quietly talking amongst themselves. Daniel went over his seating chart and checked attendance. One missing.
The door opened and Sandra Williams quickly hurried to her desk, looking down at the ground and avoiding eye contact with the other students. She sat down and set her backpack under her chair. She stood out just a bit from other students. It wasn’t her clothing, which was fairly conservative, or her skin color, nearly thirty percent of the student body was black. It was just in the way she carried herself. This was a small town, and most of the students were fairly open, easy going, and socially tolerant. She stood out because she was reserved. Daniel knew she would lighten up. New students are always nervous. He’d skip the tardy mark.
“Okay. Everyone up. Out of your seats. Let’s go.” Daniel stood up.
The students looked around quizzically at each other. Some giggling. Some talking. All beginning to rise.
“Come on. Stand up. Just take your notebooks and one pencil each. Leave everything else here.” He laughed. “Come on ladies and gentleman. It’s a beautiful day. You don’t want to sit in this stuffy classroom all period do you?”
With that the students were up and loudly speculating. Smiles danced across the room. And each student was filled with curiosity.
“Come on folks, follow me. Outside with you all!” He opened the door and encouraged the students out into the empty hallway. As the last student exited, Daniel closed the door and locked it. He jogged to the front of the group.
“Okay now, be quiet until we’re outside. No talking. We don’t want to disturb the beasts in their lairs”.
Just as the giggles began to grow louder, a door to a neighboring classroom opened. An older lady emerged, hair almost blue it was so white and large spectacles hanging from her pointy nose.
“Mr. Nally. Do you mind? What on earth?”
The irony was almost unbearable. The students could hardly contain themselves.
“Mrs. LeBrie! Would you care to join us? The class and I decided we would play hooky!”
Mrs. LeBrie was clearly confused. “Hmph!” Slinking back into her cave, she closed the door to muffled laughter.
“Okay. Okay. See, I told you! Now try to be quiet and follow me.”
He led the students to the opposite end of the hallway, towards the door that led to the football field. Swinging the doors wide, the change in the air struck him again and he smiled in gratitude. The students followed him out, and just as quickly began chatting again in anticipation. He led them across the football field, past the baseball diamond to a remote hill that overlooked the school grounds. There, at the top of the hill was a large Maple, further behind was the edge of a light tree line, filled with honey suckles, birch trees, hollies and other assorted greenery. The wood was appealing, inviting adventure and imagination. But the large Maple was his destination, majestic, dark, and shady. He turned around and looked downhill at the students, and the school behind them. The walk hadn’t been far, perhaps a quarter mile at most, and still technically on school grounds. He invited his class to where he stood.
“Have a seat ladies and gentleman. Pull up a chair, er, some grass. Where better to study science then surrounded by science?”
* * * * * *
“Daniel Patrick Nally, how do you plead?”
“I plead not guilty Your Honor.”
The heavy oak doors slammed in the background. Abramoff Billings, the rocking chair salesman, felt pangs of shame and embarrassment rush through his blood. Just an observer, he slinked to an empty seat and away from the entryway as quickly and as quietly as possible. Amazingly, the disturbance barely registered in the courtroom audience. For them, it seemed almost divine accoutrement- uniform ambiance to the proceedings.
“Let the record show…”
Outside, the first signs of autumn had begun again. Late September, and the change had come early. A breeze rustled through aging leaves and the aura of a light rain hung in the air, more a feeling than a scent.
* * * * * *
Daniel was almost finished with his lesson when he saw Teddy in the distance, marching towards Daniel’s adopted classroom, simultaneously shaking his head. Daniel wasn’t sure, but he though he saw a hint of a smile in the man. What he saw for sure was that Teddy was quite tired from walking the distance. It made no difference. Daniel continued his lesson.
“As you can see, the leaf itself has a direct relationship between the absorption of nutrients and the season. In many trees, such as our fine maple here, once photosynthesis stops, glucose is trapped in the leaves. Glucose is transformed into this red color by a combination of sunlight and the cooling temperatures of this season.” Against his better judgment, Daniel dared…
“You can also see from the flushed red color of Administrator Johnson, a bit too much glucose trapped in the fat”. He winced to himself as he said it. The kids roared with laughter as Administrator Johnson reached the makeshift outdoor classroom.
“Mr. Nally, can I speak with you please?”
"Of course Mr. Johnson." Daniel placed his hand on Administrator Johnson's thick shoulder and turned to his class. "Kids, excuse us for the moment. In the meantime, I want each of you to find three maple leaves: One green, one dead, and one in transition." He knew the children would grow loud within seconds. And he was right. As he walked with Johnson to the tree line at the forest's edge, the squeals of pleasure were impossible to ignore. Daniel smiled to himself.
Daniel turned to face Administrator Johnson. He realized that Teddy hadn't been smiling at all. In fact, Mr. Johnson looked almost pale. "What's up Teddy?" He asked while looking over Johnson's shoulder at the kids searching the ground each for the perfect leaf.
"Daniel... I don't know how to say this." Ted Johnson looked at the ground, and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He could feel sweat building on his cheeks and neck.
"I have to relieve you. We have a substitute coming over for now, but you'll need to head back over to my office."
"What?" Daniel spoke in astonishment. A few students looked over at the two adults with puzzled expressions.
"Michael. Conner. Go find some leaves guys!" Daniel called over. They shrugged and went back to their search, discarding the cracked and damaged leaves in pursuit of the perfect specimens. Daniel focused intently at his friend and colleague and whispered, "What the hell are you talking about Teddy?"
Johnson brought his voice to a whisper and looked up at Daniel. "There's been some allegations made. Dan..." Johnson reached for his handkerchief and wiped his brow. "Dan, I have no choice. This just came to me an hour ago. There are police in my office. Police! It was all I could do to preserve your dignity and request them to stay there. They wanted to come out here themselves!"
"Jesus Christ! What allegations?" Daniel restrained himself to a whisper. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Look, I don't what the hell is going on myself to be honest. What I do know is that a student has said some things about you which merited law enforcement attention."
"Things? What things? Are you kidding me?" Daniel was getting irate. He was frustrated. And hurt.
Johnson swallowed hard and nearly choked trying to say the words. "Sexual... things... Dan."
"No. No way. One of my kids said this? Who?"
"Daniel, let's take a walk down there and get this thing sorted out. I know its crazy." Johnson grabbed his friend's arm with both hands and was shaking it, looking straight into Daniel's eyes. "I know you." Johnson looked down at the ground. "I know you", he repeated almost more to himself.
Daniel's jaw dropped. His eyes watered. He looked up at the sky and brushed his hands back through his soft brown hair. He linked his fingers together at the back of his neck to support his head and closed his eyes.
"Here comes the sub", Johnson said.
* * * * * *
"You bitch! You stay away from my sister or I will cut your black ass!" Spit flew through the air with each word from the teen's mouth. Hands on her hips, she leaned forward with eyes wide open and bloodshot.
Looking back up at the larger girl, Tysha Washington, although smaller and younger, refused to back down, emboldened with the support of her friends. "The next time your little punk sista looks at me like that again, I'm gonna do a lot worse than that!" Tysha lifted her chin and tried to look down on the taller girl.
Tysha's friends laughed and cackled in the background. "Tramp!" "Lil' skank!"
"Come on Tysha, enough with these two. Let's go find something worth our time." Ashanti pulled over the hood of her thick puffy jacket, and lifted up her baggy pants as she turned around. "I don't wanna waste no more time with two bitch sistas."
The six girls sauntered away with Tysha and Ashanti in the lead, each of them taking turns to look back at the bloody teenage girl cowering behind her larger sibling. Tysha spit on the cracked concrete sidewalk as she swaggered on and laughed as she remembered kicking the small girl in the stomach while she layed on the ground curled up and crying. Tysha took a deep breath and imagined herself doing the same thing to the older sister. She replayed the vision in her mind, convincing herself how much tougher she was. She felt like she was starting to belong here and the bars on the windows of the homes surrounding her didn't bother her quite so much anymore.
Meanwhile, the older teen helped her younger sister stand up. She picked up her backpack and helped her walk to the bustop. A gust came in strong and chilled both of them to a shiver. In the distance, a man and a woman were screaming at each other and the sound of glass breaking carried with the wind. Several dogs were barking, as they always did here, no matter what time of day.
* * * * * *
Moving across the field, Daniel shook his head in disbelief. He tried to argue with himself that there must be some type of mistake, some misunderstanding.
No way could one of my students say something like this.
Administrator Johnson had been walking beside him, and the two remained silent as if both in shock. Joshnson's walk became a bit of a run as Daniel stepped up his pace, eager to face down his accusers and convince them of the error.
Daniel reached the building and opened the door wide and fast, failing even to notice that Johnson nearly tripped over himself while trying to catch the door in time before it closed in his face. Their shoes echoed through the empty halls, the students still in class. The lockers paced by, as did the school spirit posters, and the Homecoming Dance announcements, until finally, Daniel reached the administration office hallway. Then his heart dropped. The world seemed to slow down. Two officers in uniform stood in Johnson's office and looked toward him as he turned the corner. A third officer, in dark blue jeans and a rough brown jacket, stood up from a chair, setting his coffee down as he turned to face Mr. McNally. The hallway seemed to go on forever as Daniel walked to this last office and its open doorway at the end. Johnson was further behind now. The three men stared at McNally, and the plainclothes officer pushed his right hand back along his waist, brushing his jacket back to reveal his badge as he placed the hand on his hip.
"Mr. McNally. I'm Investigator Baylor. Brooker Police Department. Would you mind coming inside please?" Baylor turned and pointed inside with his left arm, keeping his left side away from Mr. McNally. Close in age to the high school teacher, Investigator Kyle Baylor decided to take no chances, no matter what the school Administrator had said about the man. As Daniel walked in, Baylor closed the door behind him.
Administrator Johnson quickly found a locked door knob in his hand, and stood outside of his own office feeling more helpless than he ever had in years.
* * * * * *
The sun had set several hours before when Daniel found himself standing in front of his father's house alone, on an involuntary leave of absence, and under investigation for rape and assault.
Rape.
The crushing weight he felt when the investigator first spoke that word came down on him again. He barely noticed the difference between the freezing rain and his hot tears, both streaming down his face. Daniel let himself collapse to his knees, his hands limp at his sides. This pain was something horribly deep, not like the sniffling cry of a child injured. Dark. Suffocating. It was something he had never known and it was now all he was capable of feeling.
Daniel gathered his remaining strength and dragged his soaking frame to the front door. To his father and closest friend. He rang the doorbell and leaned against the wall with eyes closed.
The door opened and the familiar smell of incense struck him immediately. Just as the scent began to affect his emotion, a small, graybearded man appeared in the entryway. He wore a brown cordorouy jacket, tan slacks, and soft fur slippers. Glen Nally's blue eyes made out the sight of his son in a condition he never imagined.
"My God! Daniel. Daniel? What's wrong Son? Oh Lord, Dear Lord." The expression on his son's face was like none he had ever seen in the boy. It tore a hole in his heart and he began crying just as fast. He grabbed Daniel and put his arms around him. Daniel hugged his father tight and placed his head down on his shoulder, allowing all the pain to flow through his tears. He shook with emotion.
"My boy, oh my dear boy, " he bawled. "What happened? Oh my God!" He held his son, and together they stood and cried with the rain building in the darkness of the evening.
After a few moments, the father urged his son into the one story suburban home. The faint glow of the burning incense stick lit the otherwise dark back den where Daniel's father would read of ancient wars in eras most men never thought of. The front room was dark as well, save for the small lamp upon the table near the door. The soft drum of the downpour outside ceased to invade the home once Glen closed the door. Still, the droplets danced upon the roof in that familiar patter as the oaks in the front yard brushed against the sides and window, swaying with each gust of the growing wind. The rush through the leaves, the tapping of small branches, the rain upon the roof. These familiar sounds calmed Daniel as he unloaded himself into the old red leather chair in the front living room.
Glen Nally knelt by his son, wiping the tears away from his eyes as he looked into the deep empty gaze that his son offered back. He reached up for Daniel's hands, and, taking them into his own, meekly made a request.
"Please Daniel. Tell me."
Daniel broke from his stare and the depth of his mind to inhale long and slow, breathing in the warm and comforting air of his childhood home. He almost hesitated in allowing it to escape, attempting to live in that instant of calm for just a second longer. Exhaling, Daniel looked around to remind himself of what came before. The burgundy walls shared their family photos with an ornate dark wood molding that met the ceiling. The tired leather chair he sank into was accompanied by its oversized twin sofa with its various throw pillows. The new television Daniel had bought for his father rested on its stand against the opposite wall, complete with the DVD player that was rarely used.
The room off to the right was once his, but now was his father's cherished den which the two of them had built together ten years before. He knew that in that room were multiple bookcases stacked with epic war novels, history books, memoirs of great men, small souvenirs, and overflowing photo albums. The walls were pure oak, put up by the hands of Daniel and his father; each plank perfectly sized, cut, stained, and placed. On these walls rested his father's prized possessions from Vietnam: The photos of his platoon, his medals, the old Vietnamese Army Officer's sword, and, framed in a place of honor, the charcoal names etched on aging paper.
In the back of the house was his father's bedroom, and there, he knew, was the sole picture of his mother. Resting in a frame on the opposite nightstand, Daniel could envision every line of her face, the expression, and the look in her eyes. He could almost hear her whisper from there. He knew his father still only slept on the one side, despite the size of the bed.
Okay. I'm ready.
* * * * * *
The Judge shifted in her chair and settled in, leaning low and deep in the plush leather with hands clasped and resting upon her stomach. It had been a long day, and although interested in the proceedings, she found herself growing warm in the black robes that announced her station in life. She took a sip of water from her glass and looked down to her right at the witness on the stand.
"Well Sir, I really cannot explain it any more clearly than that," Investigator Baylor urged. He was growing frustrated with this defense attorney.
Who does he think he is?
"Fine, Investigator. Please continue," the old gentleman dismissed as he walked towards the jury, looking down at his old brown leather shoes.
"She was frightened..."
The aging attorney cut him off. "Of what, Investigator?"
"Of me. Of memories. Of her attacker. I really can't tell you for sure. It's a pretty frightening thing for a 14 year old girl to have a police officer sitting in her living room asking her intimate questions about a violent episode". Baylor played the game well. He was no rookie and he'd done his time in court. But this defense attorney was laying it on thick.
"Really? And how do you know she was afraid? How can you be so sure that it was fear? I understand that to be a callous perspective, but we are under a presumption of innocence here in this courthouse. Therefore, we must consider the possibility..." The old man said the word sarcastically as if it were absurd, looking up to the ceiling with palms open.
"...that Ms. Tysha Washington is lying." Dead serious. The attorney was standing right in front of the jury when he said it. He was looking straight at them.
Damn thick. Perfectly executed. Baylor let out a deep breath and caught the eye of a juror who had turned her head towards him just as he did it. He suddenly felt uncomfortable.
"So was it fear? Please tell the court how you know that."
Baylor dug in for the fight. "Sir, I've been in law enforcement for 12 years now. I've seen men in fear and I've seen men lie. And the two are not the same. She trembled when she spoke. She cried. She made an indepth statment on the acts she was forced to engage in." Baylor felt good with that.
"Investigator Baylor. Men in fear. Men who lie. I do not doubt you have seen these. But how many times have you interviewed a fearful 14 year old girl who had been raped by someone close to her?" The old defense attorney raised his voice. "And how many times have you interrogated a 14 year old girl for making a false offical report of rape?" The trap was set.
"None." Baylor conceded.
"And tell me, Officer Baylor, " The demotion was intentional. "How would you be able to determine if Ms. Tysha Washington was afraid because she was lying? To you. To authority. The police. An entity that she has been involved with continually since moving out of Brooker and into Chicago." He turned his back to the young man on the stand.
"I don't know how to answer that." Baylor felt sick to his stomach.
I've got him. Paul Michael Turner wasn't about to let his best friend's son go to jail.
"No further questions your honor."
Mr. Turner moved to his seat. This wasn't over yet. Not by a long shot.
Originally Posted by Pannonian
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