I'm Not Who You Think I Am

by Peg Kehret

  “It’s almost time for the hearing to begin,” Ginger said. “I have to go in the room, so I’m ready when they call my name.”

  “Don’t try anything funny,” the man said. “I’m watching you.”

  Ginger found a seat near the back. Joyce sat beside her, but the man remained standing, just inside the door.

  Karie did not come.

  The school board members entered through a side door at the front of the room and sat at a long table, facing the audience. The secretary came in and sat at the end of the table. She typed something into her computer.

  Mr. Hixler called the meeting to order, and the buzz of conversation ceased.

  Mrs. Vaughn sat on the center aisle, right next to the microphone. Ginger knew from last time that this was where members of the audience stood to make their remarks.

  Ginger’s head ached. She had too many problems all overlapping at one time. It would be hard enough to stand beside Mrs. Vaughn and offer proof that Mr. Wren coached his team well. But to do it while Joyce and the man watched and waited for her, and to know that Tipper might be in danger, was almost more than she could stand.

  And what if Karie didn’t come? How could she signal for help? For all she knew, the man concealed a gun under his jacket. She had heard of cases where someone fired shots in a crowded room; she didn’t want that to happen here.

  Mr. Hixler read the petition to remove Mr. Wren and then said, “A large number of people have signed up to speak tonight. You are each limited to three minutes. If, when it is your turn to talk, you feel that previous speakers have already made the points you wanted to make, please relinquish your time so that the hearing is not unnecessarily long. Are there any questions?”

  No one spoke.

  “I call the first speaker: Ginger Shaw.”

  Ginger walked to the microphone, her heart hammering. Mrs. Vaughn smiled warmly at her, clearly expecting that Ginger was about to speak in favor of firing Mr. Wren.

  Ginger returned Mrs. Vaughn’s smile. You think I’m a wimp who’s going to do what you want just because you hire my sister, Ginger thought. Well, guess again. I’m not who you think I am, either. I live with purpose and honor. Starting now.

  “I want to be a sports announcer,” Ginger said, “so I go to a lot of the girls’ basketball practices. I videotape them and make up play-by-play descriptions, as if I were broadcasting a game.”

  She took the three videotapes out of the bag. “These are tapes of some of the practices. They show Mr. Wren instructing the players, and teaching them drills, and leading conditioning exercises, and showing them how to shoot.”

  A murmur rippled through the room. Beside her, Ginger heard Mrs. Vaughn say, “What?”

  “I hope you will play my videos before you continue with this hearing,” Ginger said. “They prove that Mr. Wren is a good coach, and the players learn a lot from him.”

  “Please bring the videos forward,” Mr. Hixler said.

  As Ginger walked to the front of the room, some of the students began to applaud. The man from the Daily Journal jumped up and snapped Ginger’s picture as she handed over the tapes.

  Mr. Hixler banged his gavel. “Order, please,” he said. The kids quit clapping, but low voices continued to whisper while Mr. Hixler conferred briefly with the rest of the board members.

  Ginger looked back at the audience. Nancy Randolph gave her the thumbs-up sign; Mrs. Vaughn glared angrily. Mrs. Wren mouthed the words thank you.

  At the rear of the room, Joyce beamed. The man with Joyce stared.

  Karie rushed into the room. The back of Ginger’s scalp prickled with excitement.

  Ginger watched Karie look around the audience. She waited until Karie saw her at the front of the room. Then, when she was certain Karie was looking at her, she put her hand on her left ear and rubbed it.

  Her eyes locked with Karie’s across the crowd. She saw Karie frown. Please understand, Ginger thought. Please, please get my message.

  Karie kept looking at Ginger.

  Ginger fiddled with the collar of her sweatshirt and then quickly rubbed her ear again.

  She saw Karie look both ways. Nervous sweat trickled down the back of Ginger’s neck. She was sure Karie would recognize Joyce. She hoped Karie would not say anything to her, or do anything obvious. Karie had no way of knowing that Joyce was not alone.

  Ginger saw Karie notice Joyce.

  Mr. Hixler said, “We will watch one of these videotapes now, before we proceed to the next speaker.”

  “Thank you,” Ginger said.

  Karie left.

  Two board members rolled a large television set on a stand from behind the table. A VCR was on a shelf beneath the TV. The school board members left their seats and stood at the side of the room, where they could see the screen. Rather than returning to the back of the room, Ginger stood with them.

  The crowd quieted as the secretary inserted Ginger’s tape.

  Mrs. Vaughn stood and spoke into the microphone. “The first speaker’s three minutes are up. It’s time for the second speaker.”

  “Because of the unusual nature of Ginger Shaw’s testimony,” Mr. Hixler said, “I am granting her additional time. Could someone please turn the lights down?”

  The lights dimmed. People who were seated in the back rows stood to get a better view of the screen.

  Ginger’s video began. When she had rewound the tapes, she had been careful to stop each of them in a spot where Mr. Wren was giving instructions. This video began with him showing the players how to do man-to-man defense.

  “Turn up the volume,” someone called.

  Mr. Hixler clicked a button on the remote control.

  Mr. Wren’s voice filled the hearing room—teaching the girls and encouraging them when they made mistakes. One section showed the players doing a layup drill where the players were in two lines, half on the left of the basket and half on the right. The first player in the right line tried to make a layup shot; the lead player on the left got the rebound and passed the ball to the next player on the right. As soon as each player had a turn, she went to the end of the opposite line. The lines kept running toward the basket, with the lead players shooting and rebounding as fast as they could while Mr. Wren clapped and cheered them on. When a player missed, Mr. Wren suggested a better way to try it next time. The room was quiet as everyone watched the television screen.

  Everyone except the man in the Fred’s Fish House baseball cap, who still stood in the rear doorway. Even in the dim light, Ginger could see that he continued to watch her.

  Hurry, Karie, she thought. I can’t stay up here in front forever. When they stop the video, I’ll have to return to the back of the room. He and Joyce will expect me to leave with them, and if I don’t . . .

  The video was still playing when a cellular telephone, which sat next to the secretary’s computer, rang. She picked it up, talked briefly, and hung up. She wrote something on a piece of paper and took the paper to Mr. Hixler.

  He read what she had written. Then he stopped the video. “Lights up, please,” he said.

  When the room was bright again Mr. Hixler said, “We’re going to take a two-minute break so that I can ask this speaker a few questions about her tapes. Please stay in your seats. The hearing will resume in two minutes.”

  He handed the piece of paper to one of the other board members as he motioned for Ginger to follow him. She did.

  He led her out the side door at the front of the room.

  Karie and two police officers waited in the hall.

  “You were signaling for help, weren’t you?” Karie asked.

  “Yes!” Ginger quickly explained what had happened. “They might be lying about Tipper,” she added, “but I’m not sure.”

  “No one has reported a missing boy,” Officer Hayworth said.

  Ginger told the police Marcus’s last name and where he lived, so they could check to see if Tipper was there. They radioed for additional police to come to the administrati
on building.

  She described Joyce’s car and told where it was parked. She wished again she had thought to get the license plate number.

  “Are they armed?” Officer Tyle asked.

  “Joyce isn’t,” Ginger said. “I don’t know about him.”

  “Mr. Hixler,” Officer Hayworth said, “we want you to go back in and continue the hearing. Keep the attention of the audience focused on the front of the room. Ginger, come with us and identify the suspects.”

  Mr. Hixler reached the door just as the Daily Journal photographer burst through, followed by the school-district secretary.

  “I told him not to come out here,” the secretary said.

  The photographer snapped pictures of the police, and of Ginger and Karie.

  Mr. Hixler quickly stepped into the room, followed by the secretary. “Please dim the lights,” he said as he clicked the Start button on the remote control. Mr. Wren’s voice filled the room as the video played again.

  Ginger and Karie hurried down the hall with the two police officers. They rounded the corner into the lobby and saw that the lobby was empty.

  “He was standing in that doorway,” Ginger said, pointing, “but he isn’t there now.”

  Quietly, they slipped into the hearing room, where Ginger’s video was still running. Ginger scanned the crowd.

  “Do you see him?” Officer Tyle whispered.

  “No,” Ginger said.

  “Which one is Joyce?”

  Ginger pointed.

  Outside, sirens wailed to a stop.

  Officer Tyle motioned for the girls to go back to the lobby. “Can you describe him?” she asked Ginger.

  Ginger told what the man looked like and what he was wearing. When she mentioned the Fred’s Fish House logo on the baseball cap, Officer Tyle said, “Good job. Most people don’t remember specific details.” Then she radioed the description.

  Ginger and Karie watched as Officer Hayworth tapped Joyce on the shoulder, whispered something to her, and then led her out of the hearing room.

  Joyce looked confused.

  As they came into the lobby, Joyce saw Ginger. The expression on her face went from confusion to shock to rage.

  “You called the police?” she cried. “You want them to arrest your own mother?”

  Chapter

  Fifteen

  THE POLICE READ JOYCE her rights.

  “Is it a crime to talk to my daughter?” she asked.

  “It’s against the law to harass someone,” Officer Hayworth said, “or to stalk her. Or try to kidnap her.”

  “I’ve done nothing wrong,” Joyce insisted as Officer Hayworth led her out to the squad car. “This is my baby. My baby.”

  Officer Tyle said, “We’ll need you to come to the station, too, Ginger. Are your parents here? Or someone else who can drive you? If not, I’ll get a squad car for you.”

  “My dad will be here any minute,” Karie said. “He’ll do it.” Officer Tyle handed Ginger a card with the address of the police station and then hurried out to the waiting police car.

  Other police officers entered the building and began to search the rest rooms. Ginger saw whirling blue lights outside and saw patrol cars at every corner of the parking lot.

  “Dad had a last-minute crisis at work,” Karie told Ginger. “That’s why I was late; I had to ask my neighbor for a ride.”

  While they waited for Karie’s dad, Ginger and Karie stood in the back of the room.

  The first video ended.

  “Lights up!” Mr. Hixler called.

  “After viewing this video,” Mr. Hixler said, “it is my opinion that the charges against Mr. Wren are not justified. He is a fine coach, and Roosevelt should be proud to have him.”

  “I agree completely,” said one of the other board members. “I move that we dismiss the petition.”

  “I second the motion,” said another board member.

  “Is there further discussion?” Mr. Hixler asked.

  “Yes!” shouted Mrs. Vaughn. She didn’t even bother to speak into the microphone. “I demand that we hear the rest of the speakers.”

  “In the interest of fairness,” Mr. Hixler said, “I call the next speaker, Allison Sumner.”

  Mrs. Sumner walked to the microphone. “I will use my time to watch three minutes of another video,” she said.

  Mr. Hixler quickly started Ginger’s second video. This time, he got the section Ginger had spliced in the night before. It showed Mrs. Vaughn, Mr. Fields, and some other parents screaming at Mr. Wren during the game. It showed them booing the players and shouting, “We want the starters!”

  Gasps arose from the audience and the school board members. When the three minutes were up, Mrs. Sumner said, “We desperately need a coach who teaches our children to be good sports. Mr. Wren is such a coach.” She sat down.

  Mr. Hixler called the next speaker, Mr. Fields. He said, “I am shamed by the last video. I know that life skills are more important than basketball skills, and I apologize to Mr. Wren and ask the board to retain him.”

  “Way to go, Dad!” exclaimed Susan.

  The next two speakers said only, “I pass on my time to speak, and ask the board to retain Mr. Wren.”

  Mr. Hixler said, “It seems clear that there is no need to continue this hearing. Is there further discussion from the board?”

  “I call for the question,” said the woman who had seconded the motion.

  Mr. Hixler said, “All in favor of dismissing the petition to fire Mr. Wren, signify by saying aye.”

  There was a chorus of ayes.

  “Those opposed?” said Mr. Hixler.

  Silence.

  Mr. Hixler said, “Let the record reflect that the school board has unanimously voted to keep Mr. Bill Wren as coach of the girls’ basketball team.” He banged his gavel on the table. “This hearing is dismissed.”

  Several students jumped to their feet, cheering wildly. Ginger was astonished to see Polly Vaughn in the center of the group.

  Mrs. Wren burst into tears and hugged her husband.

  Mrs. Vaughn stomped up the aisle toward Ginger, her face flushed with rage.

  “Here comes a thunderstorm,” said Karie. “Take cover.”

  “That was not a smart move,” Mrs. Vaughn said to Ginger, “but it will be a costly one.”

  “Laura and Mom had nothing to do with it,” Ginger said. “They don’t even know about the videos.”

  “That’s no excuse. You knew your testimony would ruin your sister’s business, and your mother’s, too. Your mother and Laura were warned. If they didn’t tell you, that’s their mistake.”

  The crowd surged into the lobby. Mrs. Vaughn left without talking to anyone else.

  Ginger watched her go. Mom and Laura may never speak to me again, she thought.

  Nancy Randolph and her father came over to Ginger. “That was a brave thing to do,” Mr. Randolph told Ginger.

  “Dad would have been the next speaker, if the hearing had continued,” Nancy said. “You probably saved Dad’s job.”

  “And cost my sister hers,” Ginger said.

  Mr. Bradley arrived.

  “We need to go to the police station,” Karie told him.

  “For what?”

  “We’ll tell you in the car,” Karie said.

  On their way to the police station, Ginger and Karie told Mr. Bradley all that had happened. When she got to the part where the man said he had Tipper, Ginger’s stomach knotted with anxiety. Had the police located Tipper? Was he okay?

  “You should have told your parents,” Mr. Bradley said.

  “I was going to when they got home,” Ginger said.

  Mr. Bradley didn’t say anything else, but Ginger knew he was right. She should have called Mom or Dad, or at least told a teacher what was going on. What if the man and Joyce had not agreed to wait while she spoke at the hearing? What if they had forced her to go with them?

  The police station was an old flagstone building. Mr. Bradley and Kari
e went in with Ginger. An officer led them past an information desk, down a hall, and into a windowless room that contained a cluttered desk, four chairs, file cabinets, and a small table. A fax machine and a coffeepot shared the tabletop.

  Soon Officer Hayworth came in. “Tipper is safe,” he told Ginger. “He has been at his friend’s house all along.”

  Relief poured over Ginger. Tipper drove her crazy sometimes with his jokes and his burping and his loud cowboy games, but if anything bad had happened to him, she would not have been able to stand it.

  “We told your sister where you are,” he added.

  “Thank you.”

  “Laura’s curiosity must be killing her,” Karie said.

  “Please tell me exactly what happened,” the officer said.

  Ginger started with her birthday lunch at the restaurant and told him everything. He asked some questions, and she answered them.

  When she finished he said, “A fingerprint check on Joyce Enderly revealed an outstanding warrant for her arrest on a kidnapping charge. Three years ago, Enderly kidnapped a ten-year-old girl in Bozeman, Montana, and tried to convince the girl that Enderly was her mother.”

  Ginger felt sick to her stomach.

  “The child escaped at a freeway rest stop,” Officer Hayworth said, “and asked other travelers for help. One of them called police on a cellular phone, and Enderly drove off, leaving the girl behind. Her car was found abandoned in the next town. The police have been searching for Enderly ever since.”

  “If you had gone with Joyce and the man,” Karie said, “they would have kidnapped you, too.” She reached for Ginger’s hand and held tight, as if she feared Ginger might still be snatched away.

  “Since Joyce Enderly is a fugitive,” Officer Hayworth said, “she’s being held without bail.”

  “What about the man who was with her?”

  “We’re still looking for him.”

  Oh, great, Ginger thought. She wondered how much Joyce had told him. Did he know Ginger’s name, and where she lived? What if he tried to get even with her for calling the police?

  “You are free to go,” Officer Hayworth said, “although we may want to talk to you again later.”