“I’m fine,” Gwen replied. “I’m just tired.”
“You need anything?”
Gwen shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“Did you wanna walk out with me?”
“I’m gonna stay here for a bit.”
“Okay. Give me a call if you need anything.”
Gwen nodded.
Lewis hugged Gwen, the gesture taking her by surprise, but she reciprocated, almost breaking down in tears.
He let go and stepped back. “Seriously, call me if you need anything,” Lewis reiterated.
“I will.”
Lewis left. Gwen shut the door, went back to her desk, and slumped in her seat. She sobbed so hard that she nearly hyperventilated, mucus running from her nose and mascara from her eyes. She cried until no tears were left. Then she wiped her face, grabbed her purse, and walked to the parking lot. It was mostly empty now, except for a handful of cars and trucks. Thankfully, the reporters were gone.
Gwen felt faint and empty, but she put one foot in front of the other, her head down as if it was too heavy to hold upright. That’s why she didn’t see him approaching. She stopped at her car and removed her keys from her purse. She looked up as his footsteps neared.
“Gwen?” Rick stood, wearing a dark suit, dark circles around his eyes. “I wanted to see how you’re doing with … everything.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” Gwen replied.
“I know. I was worried about you. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”
She took a deep cleansing breath. “No, you can’t. I have to go.” She unlocked the door with her key fob.
“If you ever need to talk—”
“I’m sorry. I can’t.”
Gwen entered her car and drove from school to her row-house apartment. On the ride home, she was so distracted. Someone beeped at her for sitting at the green light. Then she’d driven past her apartment and had to turn around. Her mind had been on Caleb and Heather and the essay and Mrs. Baumgartner and Janet and the police. Maybe that was why the reporter and the camera crew seemed to appear out of nowhere, blocking the steps to her apartment.
“Gwen Walker, Gwen Walker,” the reporter said, a pretty boy with his hair in perfect order. “Can you comment on allegations that you were aware that Caleb Miles was suicidal, yet you took no action to report it?”
Walker. Shit. They know. “No comment,” Gwen said. “Can you move, please?”
The reporter didn’t budge. “Do you think it’s a coincidence that you’re involved in another controversial school incident?”
Gwen pushed past.
The reporter followed her up the stairs, talking to her back. “Do you still maintain that Emory Jackson’s guilty?”
Gwen’s hands shook as she tried to unlock her door, dropping her keys on the steps.
“The story’s running tonight,” the reporter said. “Don’t you wanna tell the world your side?”
Gwen finally opened the door, stepped inside, and slammed it in the reporter’s face.
CHAPTER 85
Rick Goes to East York
The game clock ticked down. Nine seconds, eight, seven. Rick watched from the home team’s bleachers. The East York Eagle fans were at a fever pitch, chanting, “Defense, defense, defense!” The chant was apropos. After nearly four full quarters of play, the game was still scoreless. But Shane and the West Lake offense were knocking on the door, deep in East York territory. A camera crew filmed the scene, eager for another angle on the Caleb Miles suicide. Would his former teammates, wearing CM stickers on the back of their helmets, emerge victorious?
Shane caught the snap and tossed a fade, high and deep in the corner of the end zone. It looked like he’d overthrown the pass, but Lance leaped and snagged the ball with his fingertips. His momentum on the way down nearly carried him out of bounds, but he managed to drag one foot inside the white line. Touchdown.
The East York stands went silent as Shane and Lance and the West Lake crowd celebrated. West Lake kicked the extra point with three seconds left on the clock. Not wanting to risk a touchdown on the return, the West Lake kicker squibbed the football. The pigskin skidded across the ground, bouncing this way and that way, making it difficult to set up blockers for a return. The East York returner scooped it up and tried to find a seam, but he was swallowed up by Drew Fuller and a host of West Lake defenders. Game over.
After the handshakes between the two teams, Rick still stood on the home bleachers, surveying the visiting WL sideline. He watched as Janet Wilcox approached Coach Bob Schneider. From this distance, Rick couldn’t read facial expressions, and he definitely couldn’t hear them, but their body language was clear. Janet was upset, and Bob was afraid.
CHAPTER 86
Janet and the Game after the Game
“You need to open up the offense, let Shane throw some more,” Janet said with her hands on her hips. “He’s not getting the stats he needs for a scholarship.” She was bundled, wearing her puffy black jacket and red scarf.
Coach Bob Schneider removed batteries from the headsets, barely looking at Janet. “I’ll do that.”
The kids were already in the visiting locker room, the West Lake fans mostly gone, the assistant coaches giving these two a wide berth. They were essentially alone under the lights.
Janet slithered closer. “Look at me, Bob.”
Bob looked up from the headsets. His face was ashen under his bushy beard. “What do you need now?” His voice was whiny.
“Nothing. I’m here to see what you need. Relax. You’re in the clear. You did what you needed to do for your family.”
“Is that what you’re doin’?”
“Of course. Isn’t that what everyone does?”
He glared, his face flashing red. “I lied to the police for you.”
She smirked. “Not really. Everything you told them is possible. There’s no way for them to prove you were lying.”
“They told me that, if I saw the sexual assault and didn’t do anything, I could be arrested.”
“But you didn’t see it. You didn’t know what Drew was doing.”
He exhaled, shaking his head. “I’ve paid my debt to you. We’re finished.”
She stepped closer, within kissing distance. “We’re finished when I say we’re finished.”
CHAPTER 87
Gwen and NBC
Friday after the funeral, Gwen had been a zombie, barely functioning. She lay in bed all afternoon and night, tossing and turning, afraid to face the world. She awoke the next morning, startled as if she’d forgotten something. Then it all came back to her. Caleb. The funeral. Heather. The reporter. She went to the bathroom, peed, and brushed her teeth. She slipped on her flannel pajamas and padded to the kitchen, Buster meowing and following. Gwen poured a little milk into Buster’s bowl and made herself some herbal tea with honey.
Gwen took her tea to the living room. At the living room window, she parted the curtains and peered outside to the parking lot. A news van was parked in a visitor space. This wasn’t going away. She placed her tea on the coffee table, grabbed her laptop, and sat on the couch. She googled Gwen Townsend-Walker and winced at the results. She found tons of news articles, opinion pieces, and videos about her. She clicked on the first video.
NBC Nightly News host Kate Snow appeared, statuesque in her blue skirt suit. Her blond hair skimmed her shoulders. Her face was sucking inward and aging but still pretty, with high cheekbones, professional makeup, and a perfect nose that looked to be too perfect to be natural. Gwen appeared on the screen next to her, a school picture from Philly, and a caption that read Gwen Townsend-Walker under Fire.
Kate said, “Gwen Townsend-Walker, the English teacher who Caleb Miles held hostage along with her class, is under fire amid allegations of negligence. According to an anonymous source, Mrs. Townsend-Walker was in possession of an essay written by Caleb Miles entitled The Invisible Wish. This essay indicated he was suicidal nearly a month before he killed himself, but, by a
ll accounts, Mrs. Townsend-Walker made no attempt to contact Caleb’s mother, the school principal, the school counselor, or anyone else for that matter. In fact, she liked the essay so much that she gave Caleb Miles an A+ for his efforts.”
The essay appeared on the screen, an excerpt highlighted and blown up. Kate Snow read the passage. ‘“I’m not nothing. I’m less than nothing, because, if I was nothing, I’d be invisible. I wish I could be so lucky to be nothing, to be invisible. That would be a huge step up.”’
Another passage appeared, which Snow read aloud too. ‘“I walk around afraid every waking minute, just waiting for something bad to happen, for my climax to come to fruition. Maybe I should do it myself. Maybe I should do it on my own terms. Then nobody can ever hurt me again.”’
The video cut back to Kate Snow. “NBC News correspondent Joan Didier spoke with West Lake High School counselor, Sophia Baumgartner, at her home in Lebanon, Pennsylvania.”
They cut to a chubby middle-aged woman standing in her doorway. The pretty young reporter stood, holding her microphone. “Mrs. Baumgartner, did Mrs. Townsend-Walker ever come to you with concerns regarding Caleb Miles?”
“No, she did not,” Mrs. Baumgartner said. “Suicide is a very serious issue facing young people. We have to be vigilant. We have to have good communication with everyone to prevent these tragedies. Unfortunately, Caleb’s suffering was never communicated to me.”
NBC showed Kate Snow standing next to an image of Gwen’s soon-to-be-ex-husband, wearing his jailhouse jumpsuit, bound, and flanked by two sheriff’s deputies. “Gwen Townsend-Walker is no stranger to controversy. In 2013, her husband, Brian Walker, was arrested and convicted for murdering a former—”
Gwen shut her laptop and hung her head, not wanting to relive the past. It’ll never end. Wherever I go, it’ll follow me. Her eyes filled with tears. She wiped them with her sleeve before they overflowed. She glanced at her phone on the coffee table. It had been off for days. Will I be fired? Arrested? She decided it would be better to hear that she was fired over the phone, than to go to work on Monday and be humiliated, so she turned on her phone.
She winced at the number of voice messages, texts, and missed calls. She went through the texts first. All sixty-seven of them. Most of them were from reporters wanting an interview or a comment, but a few were from people she knew. Rick and Lewis sent concerned texts.
Rick: Gwen, I wanted to see how you’re holding up.
Rick: Please let me know if you need anything.
Lewis: I’m worried about you. Let me know if you’re ok.
A few texts weren’t so concerned. Most of these people didn’t identify themselves.
717-555-7344: You should not be allowed near a child ever again. You are a disgrace to good teachers everywhere.
717-555-6521: I HOPE YOU ROT IN HELL BITCH.
717-555-9634: This is Heather Miles. I’m gonna sue the shit out of u
717-555-9634: If I ever see u I will beat yur fucking ass
Gwen’s hands shook after reading the threats. She set down her phone, took a deep calming breath, and sipped her tea. She set the cup back on the coffee table, her hands steady now. She picked up her phone again. There was a text from Don Pruitt. They’d talked via his cell phone when he’d hired her this past summer, so his number was stored in her phone. Don was one of the main reasons she’d come to West Lake. He seemed so kind and welcoming. He knew about what had happened in Philly, but he had believed Gwen’s story and was willing to go to bat for her if anyone questioned it.
Principal Pruitt: Gwen, call me as soon as you get this. It’s an emergency.
Gwen tapped her Principal Pruitt contact on her cell phone, her heart pounding.
“Hello?” he answered.
“It’s Gwen,” she said, her voice shaky.
“Thank you for getting back to me.” His voice sounded beaten and monotone.
“Of course.”
He exhaled heavy. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but you’re suspended pending an investigation into your actions regarding Caleb Miles.”
“But—”
“If you need to get some things from your classroom, let me know, and I can meet you after school. Other than that, you are not to be on campus for any reason during the suspension.”
“But I gave the essay to Janet, and I spoke to her about it. Did you talk to Grace? She saw me come to see Janet twice that day.”
“We know,” Pruitt replied. “You’re on camera going into the main office to see Janet, but Grace said you went there for a discipline issue with Shane, but you never filed a report. Janet said you came back to apologize to her, that you thought you were heavy-handed with Shane. That’s why you never filed the report.”
“That’s a lie!”
“I’m sorry, Gwen. I can’t talk to you about this. I’ve already said too much.”
“I should’ve followed up with Mrs. Baumgartner. I know that. I’m sorry, Don.”
“I know this is a terrible situation, and I think you’re being overly blamed for this tragedy, but the powers that be and the people want their pound of flesh.”
“What’ll happen to me?”
“It doesn’t look good for you.” He sighed. “To be honest, it doesn’t look good for me either.”
CHAPTER 88
Rick and the Breaking Point
Rick sat at his desk, reading the latest post by the West Lake Watchdog, aka Heather Miles.
West Lake Watchdog
October 15 at 11:27 AM
I told u the school screwed up and so did Barnett and Townsend and Pruitt. I heard Heather Miles is sueing. She’s gonna get a lot a money and she should for what they put her thru. Everybody thought I was crazy but now its in the papers on the news. U can’t deny it no more. Read this newspaper article! LINK #FireBarnett #FirePruitt #FireTownsend 83 Likes 26 Shares
Trina Grisham I’m glad she’s suing. I hope Barnett and Pruitt and Townsend-Walker all go to prison too. I can’t believe Barnett had sex with a student. 36 Likes
Roger Elkins That article is good. Everybody should read it. These people are lowlife scum. Especially Barnett. He should be strung up by his ball sack. #FireBarnett #FirePruitt #FireTownsend 29 Likes
Sadie Ollinger I can’t believe Principal Pruitt hired her after her husband murdered that boy. Its ridiculus. 21 Likes
Ellen Schneider My heart goes out to Heather Miles. #FireBarnett 18 Likes
Will Gilroy They’re going to be fired at least. Barnett and Townsend-Walker might be going to prison too. They were negligent, not to mention the statutory rape. #FireBarnett #FirePruitt #FireTownsend 27 Likes
Aaron Fuller Hey fucktards, you have no idea what you’re talking about. Coach Barnett never saw Caleb being bullied and the article didn’t say he had sex with a student. It said that an anonymous source said he had sex with a student and he was suspended until the investigation. What happened to innocent until proven guilty? Go ahead and delete my post because you can’t deal with the truth. Fucking losers! 3 Likes
Breanna Franks How do you know? You weren’t with Coach Barnett 24/7. Your the one who doesn’t know what your talking about. 19 Likes
Rick clicked the link to the news article. It was from the Lancaster Daily News, written by Phillip Graves, and entitled West Lake Web of Lies. Rick closed his laptop. He’d already seen it. Phillip Graves was the first to break the story. If you could call it that. It was mostly lies and twisted truths, but the local paper ran with anonymous sources, exaggerations, and outright fabrications.
Then the national papers and news organizations snapped it up, many of the papers printing the story word for word. Does anyone check sources anymore? Phillip Graves cited Rick’s suspension and the anonymous source that confirmed he’d had sex with a student. To add the cherry on top, Rick didn’t protect Caleb from bullying. Principal Pruitt was thrown under the bus along with Rick. The article stated that Pruitt was often absent and wasn’t at school when Caleb took Gwen’s class hostage.
They even had a picture of Don reading a hunting magazine at his desk. People in the community had a field day with that, posting in the article’s comments, asking if that was what he did for his six-figure salary.
Gwen was hit just as hard. She was blamed for not reporting Caleb’s essay to the counselor, and they dredged up her past, a past Rick hadn’t heard about prior to the article. She had been evasive when he’d pried into her marriage, but he’d figured maybe her husband had been abusive or maybe an adulterer but a murderer? That, he hadn’t seen coming. The quotes from the Jackson family had made his skin crawl. Rick hadn’t known Gwen for that long, but he didn’t believe what they were saying. Not for a second. He had tried texting and calling Gwen multiple times, but her phone was off, and he wasn’t sure she wanted to talk to him anyway. Rick had left his phone on, just in case she called.
Over the past twenty-four hours, he’d probably received over one hundred calls, emails, and texts. Mostly from reporters looking for fodder, but some were crazies threatening Rick’s life. Hence the loaded shotgun laying on his bed behind him. This thought spurred Rick to check the locks on his house again. Part of the reason he was in this mess was because he’d left his doors unlocked. A habit from childhood. His mother never bothered to the lock the doors, and neither had he, and nothing had ever happened to them. West Lake had always been so safe.
Rick took the shotgun with him. He checked the front door, the side door, the sliding glass door, the windows. Everything was locked, and the shades and curtains were drawn. He walked to the big bay window in front and parted the curtains, peering outside into the darkness. Two news vans were still outside. Strangely, that made him feel more comfortable, like he wasn’t totally alone.
His phone chimed in his bedroom. He went back to his room, not in a hurry, figuring it was another crazy or some news outlet. Over the last thirteen years as a coach, he had given his cell phone number to every parent and player he’d had. He was regretting that now. Rick set the shotgun back on his bed and turned to his desk, glancing at the chiming phone. It was Pruitt. Rick grabbed the phone and swiped right.
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