Heather Miles is running for School Board Director this November. I hope you’ll vote for her because she’s exactly what this district needs. No-nonsense toughness, honesty, and an understanding of the needs of children. A vote for Heather is a vote against the corruption and the political cronyism of this district.
To top it off, one of the seats up for reelection belongs to Pastor Francis Goode. Do not let this lying child predator back on our school board. Vote for Heather Miles! #VoteMiles 378 Likes 78 Shares
Sadie Ollinger Wow, she’s so brave for sharing her story! #VoteMiles 91 Likes
Trina Grisham Goode needs to go to prison for stealing that money. What a creep! #VoteMiles 76 Likes
Will Gilroy I don’t think he will go to prison. It’s probably outside the statute of limitations. But he is a total piece of shit. #VoteMiles 57 Likes
Roger Elkins I’ve been saying it. These people are lowlife scum. This guy is as bad as Rick Barnett. #VoteMiles 53 Likes
Ellen Schneider Heather Miles is such a strong woman. We’d be lucky to have her on the school board. #VoteMiles 44 Likes
Glen Gentry I can’t believe these people! We need to drain the WL swamp. Fire Goode, Barnett, Pruitt, Townsend, ALL OF THEM 34 Likes
Breanna Franks Drain the swamp! #VoteMiles 22 Likes
David Harrison Drain the WL Swamp! 15 Likes
Janet heard heavy footsteps, just outside her office. She stood from her desk, walked to her door, and opened it. She peered down the hallway toward Pruitt’s office. Detective Strickland spoke to Principal Pruitt, flanked by two uniformed police officers. They said something about an arrest and Drew Fuller. Strickland nodded to Janet as he left the office with Pruitt and the uniformed officers in tow. Janet followed, keeping a polite distance.
She stood in the hallway, twenty-five yards away as Drew Fuller was taken from his classroom. Principal Pruitt was on the handheld radio.
Drew was indignant. “I didn’t do nothin’.”
Detective Strickland read him his rights. The head custodian approached the scene. They walked down the hall to Drew’s locker. The custodian opened his locker with the master key. Detective Strickland searched inside, wearing latex gloves. The detective held up a plastic baggie filled with pills.
CHAPTER 93
Gwen and MGTOW
“I’m sorry that Bob didn’t talk,” Gwen said, looking at Rick as he drove.
Rick glanced her way, then back to the road. “I didn’t think he’d talk, but it was worth a try. Hopefully, you can get this video footage.”
“It might help both of us.”
Rick nodded. “Janet’s the catalyst for both of our predicaments.” He turned onto a gravel road.
It was overcast, clouds pregnant with rain. Gravel crunched under their tires as they drove down the driveway. Rick parked his truck in front of the old stone farmhouse, behind another pickup and Greg’s Nissan 350Z. Denuded corn and soy fields lay fallow in the background. A dilapidated barn stood to the right of the house.
Rick looked at Gwen and said, “You ready?”
“I think so.”
“You sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?”
“I do, but he’ll be less likely to give me the video if you’re there.”
“I don’t like you being alone with this guy.”
“Neither do I, but what choice do we have at this point?”
“Be assertive. He’s weak.” Rick powered down his window so he could hear any signs of distress. “Yell for me if you run into any problems, and I’ll be there in a flash.”
Gwen nodded. “Wish me luck?”
“Good luck.”
Gwen stepped from the truck and walked to the house, climbing the porch steps to the front door. She wore her peacoat and a knit cap. It wasn’t cold enough for a knit cap yet, but she was worried that Greg’s parents might recognize her. Gwen wasn’t exactly popular with the locals at the moment. She knocked on the door. Half a minute later, a middle-aged woman appeared. Greg’s mother, Gwen presumed. She wore a long dress that looked like it was from the set of Little House on the Prairie. She had curly salt-and-pepper hair and wore no makeup.
“Can I help you?” the woman said.
“I was looking for Greg Ebersole,” Gwen replied.
“I think he’s in his room. What’s your name, young lady?”
Gwen swallowed and said, “Gwen.”
The woman did a double take but didn’t let on if she knew who Gwen was or not. “Lemme get ’im. You’re welcome to come in.”
“I’ll wait here if that’s okay,” Gwen replied.
“Suit yourself.”
The woman left and walked down the hall to the stairwell. She called out, “Gregory, honey, could you come down here?”
“I’m busy,” Greg said, his tone terse.
“You have company.”
“Who is it?”
“A young woman. Gwen.”
He paused. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
The woman appeared at the door again. “He’ll be down shortly. You sure you don’t wanna come in?”
“I’m fine out here but thank you.”
Greg appeared behind his mother. “Excuse me, Mom.”
His mother stepped aside and retreated into the house. Greg stepped onto the porch with Gwen, shutting the door as he did so. He wore tight jeans and a flannel shirt. His beady eyes were magnified by his glasses. His eyes crawled up and down Gwen’s body, before settling on her face.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, a smirk on his lips.
Gwen forced a smile. “I need your help.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You need my help? I’m surprised. At school, it doesn’t seem like you wanna be in the same room with me.”
“Come on, Greg. I’m desperate. I really need your help. Janet’s framing me, and you could help me.”
“I doubt that.” He crossed his arms over his scrawny chest, as if protecting something.
Gwen ignored his dissension. “Do you have the video from the day of the shooting?”
“The police have it.”
“You don’t have a copy?”
“I might.”
“Did you watch it?”
Greg shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Does it show Janet sliding a piece of paper under my classroom door?”
“It might.”
“I need it. It’ll prove that I wasn’t negligent. Please, Greg, my career’s in jeopardy.”
“What do I get?”
“What do you want?”
He stroked his scraggily beard and shrugged. “I don’t know. What are you offering?”
Gwen frowned. “Let’s not play games.”
“You’re the one who came to my house, asking me to risk my job, and for what? You don’t even like me.”
“I never said I didn’t like you.”
“I’m not stupid.”
“What do you want, Greg?”
He pursed his lips. “You know what I want.”
“I’m not a mind reader.”
“Use your imagination.” He smirked again, showing a little of his crooked teeth.
“You have a chance to be a good guy here. Maybe we could be friends.”
Greg shook his head. “I tried being your friend. I invited you to happy hour, lunch at school, but you kept turning me down. Obviously, you never wanted to be my friend, but now you want something, so you’re trying to use me.”
“I’m sorry I turned you down. I wasn’t trying to be mean. I was just busy.”
“You’re not too busy to hang out with a child molester.” He lifted his chin to Rick’s truck parked about thirty yards away. “But you can’t hang out with a nice guy like me? This is why men aren’t getting married or even having girlfriends. We don’t need women using us, taking our money, then riding the cock carousel behind our backs.”
Gwen took a step back. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m a MGTOW. Stands for men
going their own way. I don’t need a girlfriend or a wife or kids. I’m not gonna be some workhorse so some bitch can go shopping for makeup and clothes.”
“I don’t understand what this has to do with me.”
“Because you women are all alike, trying to use your feminine skills to manipulate me. I know you’re trying to use me.”
Gwen blew out an exasperated breath. “I’m asking for your help. If you won’t help me, fine.” She turned to leave.
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you.”
She turned back to Greg.
“I just said I know you’re trying to use me. I’m okay with that, provided I get what I want in return.”
“Spit it out, Greg, or I’m leaving.”
“I want you for one night.” He paused for a moment. “And you pay for the hotel.”
“You know why you don’t have a girlfriend?”
“Because I choose not to be played by some materialistic whore.”
She placed her hands on her hips. “No, it’s because you’re not a nice person. You claim to be this nice guy, but you objectify women and think women owe you something. Maybe you should work on being a better, more successful person, instead of hiding behind some ideology because you’re too afraid to admit that you’re a loser.”
He opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out.
Gwen turned on her sneakers and marched back to the truck.
CHAPTER 94
Rick and What Are We Now?
It was getting late. She’d changed into her flannel pajamas. What does that mean? She is wearing pajamas in front of me, but they’re flannel pajamas, not exactly meant to be sexy. But she’s still so pretty. She could wear a burlap sack. What are we now?
Rick took a swig from his beer bottle and placed it back on the coffee table. He flashed a small smile toward Gwen. She sat on the opposite side of her couch, sipping her wine, way out of his reach. He wanted to make a grand gesture. Sit next to her, hold her, kiss her. But he didn’t know where they stood. Maybe she’s still not sure whether or not I’m innocent. How could she be? Maybe I’m only here because of our shared interests. Maybe because there’s nobody else.
“Rick?”
He broke from his trance, his gaze focusing on her big blue eyes and porcelain face that looked just as beautiful without makeup. “Yeah, sorry.”
Gwen set her empty wineglass on the coffee table. “What were you thinking about?”
Buster hopped up on the couch.
“Oh, … nothing,” Rick said. “I guess I’m just worried about Heather getting on the school board.”
The cat kneaded the couch cushion and sat next to Gwen.
“I know. Judging from that Facebook post and the comments, I bet she’ll win in a landslide,” Gwen replied.
“Unfortunately, you’re probably right. To make matters worse, Janet already has four board members who consistently vote whichever way she wants. With Heather, she’ll have the majority. And Dr. Matthews is gonna retire soon, which means she’ll basically be choosing the next superintendent, which also means she’ll be choosing the administration as well.”
Gwen frowned. “She’ll have total control then. She has the teacher’s union with Rachel Kreider as the president.”
“The union officers are Janet’s cronies too.”
“She’ll have everything. The school board, the administration, the superintendent, the community. Nobody will be able to touch her.”
“I think she might be positioning herself to be the next superintendent.”
“Really? Don’t you have to be a principal for a while, or does vice principal count?”
“I think you have to be a principal for at least a year to be considered. Vice principal doesn’t count as far as I know, but I think she’s gunning for Pruitt’s job. Think about all the hashtag fire Pruitt stuff on Facebook.”
“Shit, you’re right,” Gwen replied.
“If she gets rid of Pruitt, she’ll slide into his job. Then she gets Heather on the school board, and, when Matthews retires in a couple years, the school board will pick Janet to replace him.”
“It’ll be unbearable for anyone who opposes her. Anyone good enough to get a job elsewhere will leave.”
Rick nodded, his mouth turned down. “And who loses the most?”
“The kids of course.”
“We gotta figure out a way to get the truth to people.”
“Why can’t we start our own Facebook page? They post all those lies. Why can’t we post the truth?”
Rick smiled. “That’s a great idea. We’ll have to really think about what we wanna say.”
“Could we get sued?”
Rick shrugged. “Do you have any money?”
Gwen laughed.
Rick laughed with her. “The silver lining of being broke.”
Her laughter dissipated. “When do you want to work on it?”
Rick checked his watch—10:24 p.m. “It’s getting late. Maybe we should pick this up tomorrow.”
“Will you stay with me tonight?”
Rick raised his eyebrows.
She blushed fire-engine red. “Not together. I didn’t sleep very well last night. I’m afraid to be here by myself. I feel like the whole town wants my head on a platter.”
“I understand.”
“Buster’s not much of a watchdog.” She petted the cat, Buster purring in response. “I know this is a big imposition. You can sleep in my bed. I’ll take the couch.”
Rick shook his head. “I’ll take the couch.”
CHAPTER 95
Janet and Cracks in the Facade
The score was tied, seven all. Another low-scoring affair. Another poorly called game by Bob Schneider. Shane had thrown two interceptions and no touchdowns. Lancaster Catholic had the ball on the West Lake thirty-yard line. It was still out of range for their kicker, so they had opted to use the last few seconds before overtime to throw a Hail Mary into the end zone, hoping one of their receivers might come down with the game-winning touchdown.
Janet watched from the visiting bleachers as the Lancaster Catholic quarterback launched a bomb. A crowd of defenders and receivers jockeyed for position, like basketball players going for a rebound. As the football fell from the sky, Lance Osborn stepped in front and leaped, snagging the ball from the cool air. Lance landed on his feet and took off down the sideline. The opposing quarterback had a shot at him, but Lance cut inside, leaving him grasping for air. Lance sprinted the rest of the way, untouched, doing a little high step for the last ten yards. He’d gone 103 yards on the interception return for the game-winning touchdown.
Like déjà vu, the West Lake football players and their fans celebrated the last-second victory. Well, except for one player and one fan. Janet stood with her face puckered, like she’d eaten a lemon, and Shane stood on the sideline, apart from his teammates, his head hanging.
After the handshakes and a short speech by Coach Schneider, the players dispersed to talk to their people near the visiting stands. Ashlee Miles argued with Shane, away from the rest of the team and their parents and girlfriends. Ashlee was red-faced, her finger jabbing toward Shane. Janet approached the pair.
“It was Drew,” Shane said, his hands held out like a beggar. “That’s why he got arrested.”
“If you’re lying—” Ashlee stopped midsentence as Janet arrived on the scene.
“Great game,” Janet said.
“I’ll talk to you later,” Ashlee said, walking away, back toward the crowd.
“What’s her problem?” Janet asked.
Shane frowned at his mother. “Stay out of it.”
Janet forced a smile. “Well, congratulations. That was a big win.”
“I threw two picks.”
“Those were catchable passes. Your receivers screwed that up. It’s not your fault. And those play calls? Bob Schneider’s an idiot. He should let you call your own plays—”
“Shut up, Mom,” Shane said, glowering at Janet.
/> Janet took a step back, her hand to her chest, as if she’d been punched.
Shane brushed past his mother on the way toward the locker room and the showers.
Janet composed herself and found Bob Schneider on the sideline, dumping water from the coolers.
“What are you doing to my son?” Janet said to Bob.
Bob grabbed another cooler and dumped the water, dangerously close to Janet. “I’m not doing anything to your son.”
“These plays are terrible.”
“I know. You told me to throw more, so I did, and Shane threw two picks, almost costing us the game.” Bob slammed the empty cooler on the bench. “He’s starting, but I have very little control over how well he plays.”
Janet pointed at Bob. “I don’t care what you have to do. Change the plays, give Shane some extra coaching, whatever it is, do it. I expect this to be fixed by next Friday.”
Bob didn’t react. He simply heaved another water cooler.
Janet turned on her boots and marched toward the parking lot. On the way, she passed Ashlee Miles, talking with the hero of the game, Lance Osborn. They were all smiles and googly eyes. Janet glared, but they were oblivious, lost in each other’s gazes. In the parking lot, she found her blue BMW and gasped.
Someone had keyed her driver’s side door with a four-letter word. CUNT.
CHAPTER 96
Gwen and Telling the Truth
They called their Facebook page the Truth about West Lake. Gwen sat at one end of her couch, typing on her laptop. Rick was on the other end, typing on his. Buster was between them, sleeping in a neat circle. They’d spent the better part of the last three days trying to find additional evidence to back up their stories, but they hadn’t found much. Except for Lewis, their coworkers wouldn’t talk to them; they didn’t get the video from Greg, and the West Lake Watchdog continued to crank out propaganda. Ultimately, Gwen and Rick decided to tell the truth to the best of their ability. If people didn’t believe them, so what? They already didn’t believe them.
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