by Sean Boling
Chapter Eighteen: Candice
The whisper campaign was running out of breath. Nobody had transferred out of Live Oak for a week, and a couple of new students had transferred in. She took their arrival as a sign that the message was not reaching enough people beyond the confines of the campus. Almost all of the families who had departed from LOCA headed for St. Bonnie’s, so word was not spreading in the public schools. She needed to start working her way down the economic ladder, but she had not made any acquaintances on those rungs.
Subtlety was no longer an option. It was time to put some distance between herself and the academy, and fill that gap with noise.
She didn’t want to pull Mia without Kimmy, because she wanted it to be a joint effort, a show of solidarity between those victimized by the Plumas. And short of a press conference, she wanted to work together on a statement that they would send to the school, then be prepared to regurgitate it when people asked them why they left. They would still stop short of identifying anyone explicitly, but the implication would be even more obvious, and they would threaten to start using names unless Artie was expelled, and Rod forced to resign from the board.
“You could have pulled me right away,” Mia curled into a ball on her bed upon hearing the plan. “But you had to stir things up.”
“I didn’t want to make any rash decisions,” Candice maintained her stance in Mia’s doorway. “I wanted to see how things played out.”
“Whatever,” her voice echoed in the shell she had created. “Just when I think it’s over. It never ends.”
“We’re taking a stand.”
“You’re taking a stand. Don’t expect me to say anything if anyone asks me why I transferred.”
“What are you going to do, then? Shrug?”
Mia shrugged.
Candice sighed.
All the progress made over the fall and winter was collapsing. The sight of her daughter deflating all over again punctured Candice, and she braced herself with the first large object that came to mind.
“You could tell them that Mr. Benton resigned because of what’s been going on.”
Mia sat upright.
“What?”
“But what do you care?” Candice tried not to relish Mia’s reaction. “You wouldn’t have been in his class next year, anyway.”
She backed out of the frame and took the door with her. By the time she gently closed it, she was already far less proud of herself, but neither was she compelled to go back in and ask Mia not to tell anyone.
When she drove up the gravel two-track at the Althouse spread to speak with Kimmy’s grandparents, it was a weight bench that caught her eye amongst all the other discards tossed around the scorched property. It stood in a clearing ten yards to the side of driveway, halfway between the front gate and the house. The vinyl upholstery had faded to a light grey that left no trace of the original color, and the metal appeared to have been dipped in an orange powder. It was possible that the barbell was stuck in place, the weights not having been lifted in years. She couldn’t imagine anyone walking that far to use it, or lifting while exposed to the elements. Candice decided it was the saddest weight bench in the world.
She trained her vision back onto the path. Kimmy’s grandmother had just pulled in minutes earlier. She knew this because she had tailed Kile from LOCA to ensure that she would be home, and that Kimmy would not. Candice predicted that knocking would not be necessary, as the popping gravel under her tires would announce her arrival. Indeed, Kile was standing in her front door by the time Candice swung herself out of the Cherokee door.
“I know you,” Kile chirped.
“Grandma i, yes?”
“You remembered!”
Candice nodded her way to a smile.
“Come on in, Candy,” Kile beckoned. “It’s a lot neater inside. Which ain’t saying much, but at least Grandpa Kyle won’t listen in on us.”
Kile turned and raised her voice over the rusty jungle.
“Not that you’d be interested in a couple of hens clucking, right, Kyle?”
No reply came. She turned back to Candice.
“He worked at the state hospital for years. I think some of the loony rubbed off on him.”
Candice offered a brief laugh as she entered and Kile closed the door behind her.
“Is this about Kimmy?”
Candice wasn’t ready to engage the subject so quickly.
“I’m sorry,” Kile backtracked. “Where are my manners…can I get you anything? Coke? Gatorade? A little early for a beer, I reckon.”
“No thank you.”
“Water? We’ve got a real steady well here. You’d never know there was a drought.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sure?”
“Really.”
“Well then sit down at least. Don’t make me feel like a total failure in the hospitality department.”
Candice followed Kile’s gestures to the kitchen table and sat in a chair that had the same upholstering as the abandoned weight bench.
“You’ll have to excuse Kimmy,” said Kile as soon as they sat down. “Wait, what am I saying? You don’t have to do anything. But it would be nice if you could understand. We’re doing the best we can, but with her Mom gone and Dad in prison…”
She completed her defense with a broad shrug. Candice was learning way more than she had expected, but she was just as surprised that Kile had stopped talking for a moment.
“Is that her Dad’s weight bench outside?”
“Yes,” Kile re-energized. “Yes it was. Would’ve been nice if he took his frustrations out with exercise instead of all that other stuff. He never used it much after high school. I told him after Josey died to get on it. But, there it is.”
Candice lurched for something to say.
“I’m…really sorry.”
“Long time ago, hon. Long time ago. And a lotta time left. So Kimmy…”
“Oh…”
“I know the girls haven’t been spending time together, but that’s just Kimmy. I think she makes friends just so she can fight with them later on. I can set my watch by her. Boy, did I just date myself. Who wears a watch anymore?”
She cackled and got up off her chair.
“So don’t sweat it, Candy. Same old, same old. You sure you don’t want a glass of water? I’m gonna draw one for myself, if you don’t mind.”
Candice shook her head. She waited for Kile to fill her glass and come back to the table, but Kile stood by the sink and punctuated each gulp with a satisfied exhale. When she took some time to inhale, Candice proceeded.
“It’s not Kimmy’s fault the girls aren’t hanging out together.”
“Well, there’s a first. You sure about that?”
“Something happened to them.”
Kile was about to chug the rest of her glass but stopped.
“What do you mean?”
“They were assaulted by one of the boys in their class. She didn’t tell you?”
Kile followed through with a small sip before addressing the charges.
“You sure Kimmy didn’t have anything to do with it?”
“Are you kidding?”
“I know my granddaughter.”
Candice needed a moment to regroup and figure out how to respond.
“Even if she did do something,” she decided to say, “assault is never okay. That’s blaming the victim. Maybe she hasn’t told you because she’s embarrassed. Things went too far this time.”
“Kimmy don’t embarrass easily.”
“That’s how this whole thing got started. The same boy kept doing things and the girls were too shy to say anything. Kimmy finally did at one point, good for her, and it still wasn’t enough to get this kid suspended. So it just got worse and worse and finally they had no choice. I can only imagine how bad it must have been to finally get him a suspension.”
Kile leaned back against the counter.
“Who is this kid, anyway?”
“The son of the wealthiest man on the board. He practically built the school.”
“Of course,” Kile chuckled.
Candice saw an opportunity to present her case.
“Which is why I’m here,” she leaned forward in her chair, stopping short of getting up and approaching Kile, which she figured would be a bit much. “It’s not fair. And something should be done.”
“What’d you have in mind, hon?”
“I’m going to pull Mia from the school, and would appreciate it if you would pull Kimmy, too.”
Kile drooped into a single exaggerated nod before she spoke.
“Two students ain’t exactly strength in numbers.”
“But it’s the two students who were involved. And it wouldn’t be just the two of us. A lot of parents have already pulled their kids.”
“Thanks to you?”
“I’m just the messenger. It’s the injustice that convinces them.”
Kile kept quiet and stared at the floor. Candice was as unsettled by her rare silence as she was by the fact that her pitch didn’t appear to have stirred anything inside of her. She considered filling the pause with a few more gentle pleas, but resisted.
“I know that keeping Kimmy at Live Oak kind of messes with your case,” Kile finally spoke up. “But I’ve got a kid to raise, and this school seems to be good for her.”
“The school that subjects her to sexual assault by the people who run it?”
“I haven’t seen any signs that Kimmy’s gone through anything that bad.”
“Well good for her,” Candice sniped. “Wish I could say the same for Mia.”
“Kids respond differently to things,” Kile adopted a consoling tone.
“That doesn’t change the things they’re responding to,” Candice resented Kile’s attempt to play the role of the reasonable one. “Those things are what they are. And this is wrong, no matter how your granddaughter decided to react to it.”
“You don’t know what it was like before Kimmy got to Live Oak,” she fell into a more desperate approach. “She went to just about every elementary school and burned every bridge there. I can’t send her to the middle school. They’re all in the same place now, all the kids from every elementary school. It would be like sending a cop to a prison full of people he arrested.”
“Kimmy the cop?”
Kile laughed at herself.
“Maybe that wasn’t the best example,” she seemed eager for Candice to join her in lightening up.
Candice wasn’t interested.
Kile moved back to the table and sat down across from her.
“I’m sorry, hon. I truly am. But are you really that surprised the game is rigged?”
Candice glared at her.
“So you’re not going to do anything about it,” she managed to measure her words. “And you’re okay with it?”
“It’s not my decision to be okay with it. That’s just how it is. You ever been inside that warehouse up the valley where that online store ships all that stuff?”
“No,” Candice was about ready to leave.
“They’re always looking for seasonal workers. And I’ve done it a couple of times, made a little extra spending money for Christmas. Maybe if Kyle had taken a few more good shots from those lunatics we’d be getting a bigger check each month. But anyway, what you do there at the warehouse is stand by a conveyer belt and put stuff in boxes and roll them out to the shipping area. And you know who brings you the stuff?”
Candice shrugged.
“Robots!” Kile proclaimed. “Robots fill the orders. They’re like those automatic vacuum cleaners, what are they called, Roombas? They’re like those things, only with lifts on them, like Roomba forklifts. So you stand there in your spot and these things come rolling at you with bins full of stuff someone ordered, and you grab the right-sized box and slap the sticker on it and take the stuff out of the bin and put it in the box. That’s it. Robots run all over the warehouse and you stay in one place. And when you do this, you just know that someday they’ll probably have a robot that’s doing what you’re doing. I hope not, since I’m a person and all, but what I do know for sure is there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”
“We’re talking about our kids,” Candice condescended.
“And we’ve got all the control in the world over them,” Kile mocked her right back.
“We most certainly do.”
Kile took a deep breath. Candice thought maybe she wasn’t accustomed to anyone pushing back against her verbal walls. She hoped for a moment that Kile was reconsidering.
“I admire your spirit, Candy.”
Her tone made it clear she was not leading up to a rousing declaration to fight by her side after all. Rather, it was a prelude to her final refusal.
“It’s Candice,” she corrected her.
“Candice. Sorry. I really wish you the best. It’s good to have people who remind us what’s right and wrong. But you might as well protest the sunrise.”
Candice stood up and offered her hand.
“Thank you for your time.”
Kile stood up and shook it. She also got in the last word, which came as no surprise.
“Worse things have happened to people who thought they had a lot more control over life than you do.”
Candice mulled a variety of responses as their handshake waned. She was certain Kile would have a comeback for anything she said, and she had just enough restraint left in her to resist the lewd gestures that came to mind. So she nodded and turned to leave, not bothering to attempt a smile, since it wouldn’t come out the way she wanted.
Candice drove down the driveway a bit faster than she had come up. She still noticed the weight bench, though, and as it floated into her passenger side window, the barbell looked like a pair of arms extended out from each side of the bench, which was the body. She stomped on her brakes. By the time she skidded to a stop, the glow of recognition had turned to shame. Of course Grandma i felt helpless.
She threw her arm over the passenger seat and looked behind her, ready to hit reverse and apologize. But the way back looked long now that she had it in her sights, and she wasn’t very good at driving backwards. She checked in both directions to see if there was any place to turn around, but there were enough mysterious metal objects close to the road and to each other to give her pause, and make her wonder if there were things she couldn’t see that would leave her with a flat tire. Besides, just because Kile had a problem with her son, didn’t mean everyone else’s kid should have to suffer. And why wouldn’t she want to help other kids, in light of what happened to hers? Candice took a deep breath and drove forward again.
She spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon tending to renters in person and landlords on the phone, focusing on those tenants who paid their own way, and those owners who had but a house or two. She avoided a day of extracting government assistance from the poor and forwarding it to the rich. She never enjoyed such a transfer, but under the circumstances felt particularly susceptible to saying or doing something that could cost her dearly.
There was a hiccup involving a renter complaining about the owner stopping by with annoying frequency to check on the house, which was rare because so few landlords lived locally, but otherwise her job went smoothly enough to allow plenty of time to pick up the girls.
She parked along the curb of the frontage road leading to Live Oak, where she could see the rear blacktop and the meadow, while maintaining her stance of staying off campus. More than a couple of classes were outside, their teachers letting the kids run off their spring fever as the clock wound down on the school day. The sixth graders were one of them. Candice spotted Mia and Beatrice back on their customary bench. Their maudlin body language aside, the sight of them brightened up Candice a little, as it demonstrated that Mia was not completely back to where she started. At least she was able to hold on to the point where she met Beatrice.
Isaiah stood near the upper cluster of rooms, behind a
ll the action. Thanks to his position, she didn’t notice him at first. When she finally did, he appeared to be watching her. She told herself to stop being so self-absorbed, and shook her head with a slight laugh as she reached to turn on the radio.
Her phone pinged with a text alert.
It was from Isaiah.
The kids know I’m leaving, it read. And they know why. I asked you not to tell anyone.
She looked over and confirmed that he was in fact looking at her. There was no way to pretend she hadn’t received the message.
Sorry, she wrote back. I was upset. It slipped out.
I had a story ready for them and for Dale. Now it’s all damage control.
Just stick with the truth.
And then expect Dale to give me a reference when someone calls?
Why would you want a reference from someone you don’t respect?
It looks bad if you don’t have contacts from your most recent school. Like something bad happened.
Something bad DID happen!!!
She scowled out the window. Some kids approached Isaiah, who put his phone back in his pocket. When they left, he didn’t retrieve it.
She re-sent the message. He ignored it.
She re-sent it again. He folded his arms into an obstinate pose.
She kept sending it until he cracked.
He snatched up his phone and started banging on it with both thumbs. When he finished typing, he made an exhibition of pressing “send”.
Yes, and it had nothing to do with me! NOTHING!!!
Her heart thumped as she read his message. When she looked over at him, he held up his phone, and lowered his thumb onto the power button as though pressing a detonator.
She started the engine and pulled forward where the building stood between them so they couldn’t see each other anymore. She spent her time waiting for the girls with her head leaning on the steering wheel, stuck between a cry and a scream, and stayed that way until she heard the bell ring.
When the girls climbed in, she told them they would be in a different school by the following week.
“Aw,” said Zoey. “I thought we were going to wait.”
Candice glanced at Mia, who had no reaction, much less a comment.
“Sorry, sweetie,” she turned her attention back to Zoey. “There’s no reason to anymore.”
“Oh well,” Zoey bounced back. “At least I get to see all my old friends.”
“That’s right,” Candice started the engine. “And Mrs. Horst is a lousy teacher, anyway.”
“What about Mr. Benton?” Zoey asked.
Mia looked at her Mom as if repeating the question.
“Mia’s case is different,” Candice answered. “She needs a better bunch of classmates.”
“Which I’ll be sure to find at the middle school,” Mia spat.
Candice focused on merging into the flow of traffic so she wouldn’t overreact to Mia’s sarcasm.
“There’s variety there,” she said. “The kids from your old elementary school only make up about a quarter of the students. And you get a different teacher for each subject. They can’t all be duds.”
“Why not?” Mia asked.
“Law of averages.”
“No such law.”
“Who says?”
“Mr. Benton,” Mia explained. “It’s called the Gambler’s Fallacy.”
“Okay, then it’s the Gambler’s Fallacy.”
“But a fallacy is wrong.”
“Then maybe all your teachers will be great,” Candice let her voice rise. “Every one of them a genius, a regular Isaiah Benton.”
Her volume reached a level that quelled any further discussion, even from Zoey. The quiet continued as they entered the garage, the house, and their rooms.
Candice lay on top of her bedspread and stared at the ceiling, trying to decompress. Lately it had been moments like this when she would reach out to Isaiah for help in doing so. She reached for her phone and typed him a message.
I’m sorry.
After sending it, she rested the phone on her chest.
Within seconds it vibrated. She picked it up and saw a window on the screen. It said that she had been blocked by that number.
Her arms fell by her side, the phone bouncing off the bed and onto the floor.
“Everyone is a coward,” she announced to the emptiness.
She felt naïve, like she was thirteen and all of the adults in her life had let her down. She hated the feeling. Once was enough. Yet it seemed to have become an annual event.
She sat up and spun her legs over the side of the mattress, reaching down for the phone. She opened the search engine and looked up the website for the county newspaper, checking the submission guidelines for sending a letter to the editor. They were easy enough to follow, but she wasn’t sure if she had any paper of her own in the house, as she didn’t want to sift through the girls’ backpacks in case they caught her.
She found a long, narrow pad in a kitchen drawer from the real estate agent who had sold them the house. The woman’s picture was at the top, with the company logo above her and a quote below her: “Your trust is my motivation.” The transaction had occurred only a few years earlier, but since her husband handled most of its machinations, Candice could not muster any clear recollections of the woman smiling in the photograph.
The pad of paper did inspire memories of her ex-husband, though, which may have nudged her toward the introduction she wrote. She drew a few circles to rev up her pen, then started out by claiming to have plenty of experience with failed relationships, and that the relationship between Rodrigo Pluma and Live Oak Charter Academy was the latest example, in particular its principal, Dale Copeland. The narrow strips of paper left little room to write, so she had to flip to the next clean page rather quickly. This time the smiling photograph of the realtor reminded her of a ventriloquist, speaking the words beneath her through clenched teeth. So she made an analogy with Dale as a puppet, and Rod pulling his strings. She thought maybe she was enjoying herself too much, so she switched to a more distressing topic, and laid out the havoc that Arturo Pluma was able to inflict thanks to his father’s influence, culminating in the assault on her daughter. As she pressed toward the end of describing what happened to Mia, the word “trust” jumped out at her from the realtor’s quote as she flipped to the latest blank page, so she concluded the letter by addressing that very issue, and how the charter had violated the trust of the district and the parents who had put their faith in LOCA.
After dotting the final period as though spearing a fish with the pen, she dropped her weapon and slid the pad away from her.
She stared at it for a while.
Nothing happened, so she put it in her purse and brought it to work the next day, where she could type it up and send it in.
