by Elle Rush
“That’s horrible. Who was it?”
“That I can’t comment on.”
“Do you think that will calm things down now?” Brooke asked.
“I really hope so. We have two and a half more weeks till Halloween. I’m going to burn out by then if this keeps up.” Aaron wasn’t kidding in the slightest. He hadn’t had a solid night’s sleep in weeks, even when he was home. He was going through antacids like candy, and he couldn’t see an end in sight, even after Halloween.
“I know you aren’t a big police department, but can’t any of your deputies take any of these callouts? It can’t all fall on your shoulders. You’re only one man,” Brooke said, her voice full of sympathy. “A really handsome, smart, funny man, but you are one of a kind.”
He snorted. It wasn’t much of a laugh, but it loosened some of the tension in his gut. “I don’t want to give them all the bad shifts.”
“How about giving them a percentage so you aren’t stuck with ninety-nine percent? You need a break, Aaron. Not only for your mental health, but for your physical health. I’m worried about you.”
He almost brushed her concern off. Almost. Until she added that last comment. He knew he’d been pushing too hard for too long. Summers were long in Holiday Beach. Tripling the population tripled the problems. He’d forgotten to come out of high law enforcement mode. “Thanks, Brooke. I appreciate it. But I’m fine.”
“I’m serious, Aaron. When’s the last time you took a vacation?”
He shrugged.
“Everybody needs downtime. Maybe we could take a day after my midterm. Go into Minneapolis for the day or something, just the two of us.”
“I’ll look at the schedule tomorrow.”
“In the meantime, eat a vegetable, have a glass of milk, and go to bed. You look beat,” Brooke said. “Sleep well, Sheriff Tall, Funny, and Handsome.”
“Sleep well yourself, Numbers Lady.”
Aaron was actually able to do as he was told. He wasn’t on call that night, but he was the two following evenings. When he set the next week’s roster, he was going to give himself more time off. He’d been trying to make things easy for his deputies for the last couple months, knowing they were all pulling extra hours, but it was time to even out the schedule.
He didn’t eat a vegetable, but he did have a glass of milk before he went to bed. For the first time in ages, he slept all the way through. And dreamed of Brooke.
Chapter 22
Brooke Portman did not enjoy being summoned to the high school. She’d been asked to see the principal more than once, but she’d never been ordered to appear under a threat to her daughter’s future.
Brooke arrived at the high school ten minutes later than she’d intended, but some things were more important. Taking the time to dress to the nines, in her only good suit and heels and with her hair in a no-nonsense chignon, was worth the delay. Because she meant business and she wanted everybody who saw her to know it.
If they wanted to play hardball, she was going to bring the bat.
Jordan’s article on the bias in the student parking spot assignments had gone live on the website that morning. She’d had over thirty hits before she’d left for school that morning. She’d added a hundred more by the time Brooke had left their apartment. John Reno, the faculty advisor for the paper, had wisely turned off comments, insisting that any responses be emailed to the school with the sender’s contact information attached.
They’d discussed it before: John, Brooke, and Jordan. They’d expected a reaction. What Brooke hadn’t realized was that today was the day the school board was visiting to discuss the dress code with the student council. From the sounds the office secretary made when she called, the board members were not pleased with Jordan’s latest piece. One in particular demanded Jordan post a retraction immediately.
By all reports, things had gone downhill after that.
The high school was a madhouse. The walls were papered with posters about the upcoming football games and signs for the Halloween dance at the end of the month. Several notices advising students that costumes were only acceptable on Halloween itself or at the dance. That didn’t stop some of them from decorating their lockers.
The adults on the scene were the ones doing the yelling. The students forming a wall between the overdressed woman and the door to the newspaper room were red-faced but holding their tempers for now. Principal Kelly stood on the sidelines like a referee nobody was listening to. John Reno was blocking the entrance to the room.
Brooke showed no fear. She strode through the narrow gap until the adults were forced to step back and give way. “Excuse me, Principal Kelly, I was summoned?” If she could have left frost in the air with her words, she would have.
“Your daughter owes the school board an apology after her false accusations,” a woman said.
“I don’t think we’ve been officially introduced. You are?” There was a reason Brooke had worn her power suit. She knew exactly who she’d be dealing with. Marjory Major was the board member who’d declined to be introduced to her when she’d made her presentation regarding the board’s literature choices. She’d also refused to address Brooke directly afterward. Everybody in the corridor knew it.
“I’m Marjory Major.”
“This situation sounds serious. Please tell me, in detail and for the videos being recorded by these various students, what false accusations has my daughter made against the school board? I read the articles she’s published, as has Mr. Reno, the newspaper’s faculty advisor. Everything Jordan said was factual, and documentation was provided by the school and from the school board’s own public policies and minutes.”
“I am not a sexist!”
“Good for you. But Jordan didn’t call you a sexist. She said the existing policies, which the current board didn’t make, were sexist. But that distinction doesn’t answer my question. What false accusations has she made?” Brooke repeated. “It’s true that the football players are issued spots before the rest of the student body has a chance to enter the draw. Principal Kelly confirmed that it’s school policy. Basic math says that fifty players and a hundred spots means that the football team gets half. The school, board, and state all confirm that the girls’ volleyball team has made it to state finals twice in the last five years, and the football team has only made it to the playoffs once, so the volleyball team is the ‘winningest’ team in the school. If the policy is to give the spots to the team with the best record, they should go to the volleyball team.”
“That’s not how things are done,” Marjory yelled in her face, spittle flying.
Brooke drew a tissue from her pocket and dabbed her cheek. “Jordan didn’t say that wasn’t how things are done. She said the policy was sexist and biased towards the football team, which is all male. She asked if the board had any intention of changing them to provide equality to all students when it came to parking space allotments.”
Brooke faced Marjory head-on. “So, I ask you again, what is the problem here, and why was I ordered to the school? As far as I can see, my daughter has done nothing wrong. You, on the other hand, are literally spitting mad and are hurling verbal abuse at a minor. Several minors,” she amended, catching a glimpse of Olivia Holiday, the student newspaper editor, her face pale but determined.
“Every last student involved with this post will be expelled unless they retract all the columns that disparage the school board,” Marjory threatened. “The board will also deal with the faculty advisor.”
“We both know you can’t expel anyone for this, Ms. Major,” Brooke said. She’d had a long discussion with Principal Kelly about repercussions for Jordan’s op-ed pieces. Expulsion wasn’t one of them.
“I can shut down the website,” Marjory countered
“That you can do,” Brooke agreed.
Marjory gave her a vicious smirk.
“But there’s nothing to keep them from reposting it elsewhere. Again, the truth is the truth. Free speech and all that.
These delightful, civic-minded, equality-demanding young people can only present their case. The board’s decision and how they choose to present it to the community is the board’s business.”
Brooke hadn’t drawn a line in the sand, she had carved it into a concrete pad. She knew from years of experience and a lot of advice that the surest way to lose a confrontation was to get emotional. It gave the opponent an edge. Cold facts trumped all. If she didn’t fold to the social pressure of dealing with a board member who was prominent in the community—and years of being “only a housekeeper” had accustomed her to that pressure—Marjory’s options were to throw a public fit, which would weaken her case, or save face, walk away, and try to find another way to get what she wanted.
Unfortunately for Marjory, she went with the first option.
Brooke, at five-foot-four, was not a tall woman, even in heels. Marjory Major towered over her and gave the impression she did it a lot to get her way. Then she got even louder. “This is unacceptable! If she were my daughter, she’d learn some respect. If you won’t teach it to her, I will.”
“There is nothing you can teach that a decent human being needs to learn.”
Marjory raised her hand to her shoulder as if to strike, but Brooke caught her wrist before she could.
“Assault! You saw her assault me, Principal Kelly! I’m pressing charges.”
Brooke released her arm and took half a step back. Then she sighed. The board member ranted to the principal, naming every person in the school she felt had insulted her, not treated her with the respect befitting her position, or not jumped on demand. Her arms flailed as she pointed out people. For a second time, her hand came too close to Brooke’s face for comfort, so Brooke grabbed it, held it for a second, and then threw it down.
“Ms. Portman, I need you to stop touching Ms. Major.”
“Ms. Major has almost hit me in the face twice in the last two minutes. The videos will confirm this. I will not let her assault me because she’s throwing a temper tantrum. If she wishes to continue her violent physical behavior, she should ensure she isn’t within striking distance of innocent bystanders.” Brooke wasn’t rude. She didn’t shout, she didn’t accuse, even though she wanted to, wanted to so badly she thought her head would explode from the pressure and anger inside her skull—but she held her temper.
“She has a point, Ms. Major,” Principal Kelly agreed. His face looked extra red against his blond beard.
“I will calm down but, at the very least, an apology is in order. A public apology. There have been some grievous public insults issued today,” Marjory insisted.
Principal Kelly looked at her but addressed Marjory. “An apology doesn’t sound unreasonable.”
“I can live with that,” Brooke said. She knew what she was about to do would demolish the entire “give a little, get along” philosophy the other adults had going. She also knew she wasn’t in the wrong in doing it. “Ms. Major can apologize to me and Jordan at any time.”
“You’re delusional. I’m not apologizing to either of you. You, however, can apologize to me, and if it’s good enough, I’ll consider not pressing charges.” Marjory crossed her arms. For a moment, Brooke had a flash of what the woman would have looked like as a stubborn four-year-old. This, however, was forty years later.
“So much for that plan.”
“Please, ladies, don’t get emotional,” Principal Kelly pleaded.
Something inside her cracked. “Excuse me? I’m too emotional?” Brooke repeated. She concentrated on keeping her voice completely flat. “Why would you say that? I’ve been perfectly calm through this entire situation. I didn’t scream at anybody. I didn’t almost hit people in the face. I didn’t threaten to expel students. I am not the one who needs to calm down. I have been, and continue to be, nothing but calm. I have done nothing that requires an apology, and neither has my daughter.”
“Ms. Portman, you grabbed her.”
“Principal Kelly, are you saying a woman has to let a hand make contact with her face before she’s allowed to defend herself from an assault?”
“No, I’m not saying that,” he responded quickly.
“I didn’t think so.” She shifted her attention. “Ms. Major, I’m not doing anything wrong. Neither has Jordan or anybody else on the newspaper staff. This situation is entirely of your own making. How you handle it is your decision. As are the consequences. Just like I have my own decisions and consequences to deal with. This isn’t me being difficult. This is life.”
“We’ll see about that. And we’ll see about those assault charges.” Then Marjory walked away with her head held high, silk scarf flapping behind her, like she hadn’t lost the battle. The rest of the war lay ahead.
Mr. Reno stepped up. “Here’s what’s happening. I’m requesting that anybody who filmed or is still filming this encounter to please email me a copy of their video or a link to it. If you are a student who doesn’t have any reason to be in the corridor after school hours, I’m going to ask that you leave for the day.”
The principal stepped forward. “Everybody not involved with the newspaper is dismissed. Ms. Jacobs, our school counsellor, is still in her office and is in tomorrow if you want to discuss what happened here.” The red-faced man waited a moment. “Dismissed means you need to go. Now.”
A dozen students slowly moved toward the door.
“Next,” Principal Kelly continued, “if you are involved with the newspaper, you are free to go do whatever it is you should be doing as long as you do it somewhere other than the hall. That includes you, Jordan, unless you want to go home with your mother.”
“I’ll wait for my mom in the newspaper room.”
Brooke hated that her daughter sounded so uncertain. “I’ll knock when it’s time to go, Cookie.”
The rest of the students dispersed. Mr. Reno followed them into the newspaper room and closed the door behind him.
“That could have gone better,” Principal Kelly said. “It could have gone a lot worse, but it was bad timing the story came out on the same day the board was visiting the school to discuss the dress code with the student council. I want to reiterate that we are standing behind Jordan on these stories. Only staff are looking at the emails her pieces have generated. There’s been a lot of pushback.”
“I’m sure. She’s convinced it will make a good college essay.”
“We’ve weeded out the commenters who don’t have children in the school. Most still think the current parking assignment policy should stay, but it’s not an overwhelming majority.”
Brooke longed to pull her sweat-soaked blouse away from her back now that her adrenaline rush was fading. But something held her back, something that said it wasn’t entirely safe to drop her guard yet, even if it was down to the two of them. “It’s hard to give up a perk, especially when it’s a tradition. Jordan isn’t the first person to bring this up. She’s just the first to do it in a time when people are more willing to listen.”
“Unfortunately, Marjory is not one of those people.”
“Do you think she’ll actually press charges?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if she did. She’d at least look into it to be a nuisance.”
Knowing what she did about Marjory, Brooke wasn’t surprised at this observation. She let herself have a minute. She’d solved one problem—Marjory coming after Jordan—but had created another. Marjory’s real problem wasn’t Jordan; it was the board’s policy. That was something for her and the board to sort out. Brooke would go to the meeting and state her opinion, but she didn’t have to do the work to provide the solution. That was their job.
The door to the newspaper room cracked open. “It is safe to come out?” Jordan asked.
“It’s fine.” Brooke took a breath. She had to refocus. “How are you?”
“That was bad,” Jordan said.
She looped her arm around her daughter’s shoulders and said goodbye to Principal Kelly and Mr. Reno. They headed for the parking
lot. “You know I’ll be watching the videos. Is there anything you want to tell me first?”
“No. Three members of the school board met with the student council. That didn’t go well either, but Olivia is the president of the student council and president of the debate club, so she kept the meeting on track and only discussed the dress code. It wasn’t much of an argument when she pulled out the actual code and read it aloud. Then Ms. Major came by the newspaper office. Principal Kelly was right on her heels, and he and Mr. Reno kept it under control until you got here.”
Her brave, beautiful daughter paused. “Ms. Major said she was going to press charges. I can apologize—”
“Oh, no,” Brooke protested. “Out of everything that happened this afternoon, that in particular had nothing to do with you. Marjory was talking out of her butt trying to save face. It was an intimidation tactic and nothing more. You are always allowed to defend yourself if a fist is coming near your face. I’m not apologizing for that.”
“What if she does talk to the sheriff? I started this whole thing…”
“Again, Cookie, not your problem. I promise.”
“Okay.”
Jordan stared out the window. She was saying all the right things, so Brooke let it go for now. Her daughter didn’t have the life experience yet on how to handle the pressure that was leftover. Brooke would check on her again later that evening to see how she was handling the second wave of emotions.
“Thanks for coming so fast.”
“Of course. But I don’t feel like cooking after that. What do you say to frozen pizza and a sleeve of Oreos for dessert?” It was comfort food at its finest.
