Streaks of Blue: How the Angels of Newtown Inspired One Girl to Save Her School

by Jack Chaucer

  Once that you've decided on a killing

  First you make a stone of your heart

  And if you find your hands are still willing

  Then you can turn murder into art

  Then she looked at the chorus:

  It's murder by numbers — one, two, three

  It's as easy to learn as your ABCs

  "That's terrible," she blurted to herself, unknowingly disrupting Mr. Richardson. He stopped to stare at her after uttering the lyrics: "There's a red fox torn by a huntsman's pack" from "King of Pain." They gazed at each other for an awkward moment, then Nicole put her hand over her mouth in embarrassment.

  "I'm sorry," she said.

  "What's so terrible ...?" he asked, gesturing in her direction to prompt her for assistance with her first name.

  "Nicole," she said.

  "Nicole, thank you — I've got a lot of names to learn fast," the teacher said. "So what's terrible, Nicole — my spoken word reenactment of Sting's lyrics? Trust me, you don't want to hear me sing these."

  The class laughed, Mr. Richardson chuckled and Nicole smiled, but he could tell she was serious so he approached her to the left of her window seat.

  "This is terrible," she said, pointing to the title "Murder by Numbers" on her iPad. "Extremely insensitive."

  Mr. Richardson stooped to look closely at her screen, nodded quietly and returned to the front of the classroom. He put his hands on the podium and frowned.

  "I apologize to you, Nicole, and anyone else who might be troubled by the song ‘Murder by Numbers,’" he said, genuinely apologetic. "I probably should've excluded it from this lesson, given what has happened over the last decade or so, especially in our schools."

  "It's just a song," a boy interjected from the other side of the classroom. A few other students grumbled their agreement.

  "Relax," gasped one red-headed girl, clearly directing her venom at Nicole.

  "It is a song written well before Columbine, 9/11, Newtown and all the rest," Mr. Richardson said, "but I asked you to look at these lyrics and see what moved you. Nicole has responded very honestly to this particular song."

  Nicole was impressed by her teacher's calm reaction to and assessment of her disruption of his lesson, which he clearly had intended to be fun. She felt bad about ruining that, but the effect of her dream in the mountains, the one creepy look on Adam's face yesterday and the pent-up rage she sensed in Thomas Lee Harvey would not let her read the title "Murder by Numbers" without saying something. So she did. Now what? She felt compelled to say more.

  "I'm just not comfortable with that song — it's too raw, too flippant about killing," she said before reciting more of the lyrics to the teacher and the class. "'You can bump off every member of your family/And anybody else you find a bore?' Really? Wow. I'm moved all right. I thought I liked Sting. I had no idea he wrote this song and now I might hate him for it. Apparently nobody valued human life in 1983 — just the same as today."

  "You're totally overreacting," the red-headed girl piped up again.

  "Am I?" Nicole shot back, looking right at her and trying her best to ignore Derek's smirk.

  "This is quite a lively poetry class," Mr. Richardson interrupted, attempting to regain some control as other students began arguing separately. "Next time I'll try Barry Manilow, perhaps."

  "Who?" someone shouted, causing everybody to laugh except Nicole.

  "Quiet please," Mr. Richardson implored.

  After a pause of relative silence, he said, "I respect Nicole's honest reaction and the rest of you should as well, even if you don't agree with her. 'Murder by Numbers' is not the focus of my lesson. I included all of the songs on this album to give you a sense of its entirety and the power of the band's collective words. As I said earlier about poetry, don't always just take the words at face value. Quite often there are deeper meanings. Nicole, if you would, please read the last four lines of that terrible song."

  Nicole just looked at him for a moment and seemed reluctant, but he waited her out and eventually she focused on her iPad. Then she read the lyrics to the class:

  But you can reach the top of your profession

  If you become the leader of the land

  For murder is the sport of the elected

  And you don't need to lift a finger of your hand

  "Murder is the sport of the elected," Mr. Richardson repeated to the class while looking at Nicole. "The end of the song takes it in a rather different direction, doesn't it?"

  The red-headed girl pounced: "Yes, it's the elected leaders who start wars and get people killed without a drop of blood on their hands! That's what this song is about!"

  "Thank you ...," the teacher said, raising his eyebrows and leaning toward her to get help with her first name, too.

  "Rebecca," she said with an edgy assertiveness.

  "Thank you, Rebecca, for your opinion and I do happen to agree with you," Mr. Richardson said as Nicole quietly huffed. "While I do understand why Nicole would find this song offensive, particularly the cavalier talk of murder in the lyrics, I believe the writer, Sting, is trying to make a political statement with this song: that the leaders of nations often are the people most guilty of murder by numbers, and they do so without lifting a finger of their hand. All they do is give the order."

  "I get your point," Nicole said. "But I'm more worried about the people who aren't so clever — the ones who don't get elected and don't write fancy words with deeper meanings. I'm worried about the ones who take the order from the clever guy and turn murder into sport. I especially fear the damaged kid who reads lyrics like these — 'Now you can join the ranks of the illustrious in history's great dark hall of fame' — and decides to start shooting to ease his pain ... to spread his suffering around to the rest of us."

  Nicole's chilling words hung in the air for three seconds that seemed much longer.

  Then the bell rang.

  CHAPTER 6: THREE WORDS

  Nicole stashed a few books in her locker and realized she had forgotten her lunch in the fridge at home. She had late lunch today and now she'd be forced to find out what little the $2.50 in her pocket would buy. As she stared blankly in thought, Derek had sidled up next to her without her even noticing him.

  "Are you always such a troublemaker?" the 6-foot-1, 210-pound linebacker asked whimsically.

  Nicole jumped, slammed her locker shut and covered her mouth shyly when she saw the handsome young man with the mostly buzzed brown hair and playful hazel eyes suddenly standing next to her.

  "You scared the crap out of me," she admitted.

  "I apologize. I'm Derek," he said, offering his hand. She shook it and smiled.

  "I know. I've watched you at football practice, I’ve seen you in class ... and I'm sure you know my name by now after I ruined Mr. Richardson's lesson on song lyrics," Nicole said.

  "Are you OK, Nicole? You seemed pretty shaken up in there," he observed, leaning against a locker with his arms folded across his chest and his backpack slung over one shoulder. He had a free period so he was in no hurry to join the exodus of students fleeing the corridor toward their next class.

  "I'm fine," she said. "I'm sorry I went off in there, but ... never mind. I'm actually pretty normal most of the time, but you're catching me on a bad day, week ... I don't know."

  "Hey, I understand," he said. "We all have those."

  Just as he said that, Thomas Harvey emerged from the boys’ bathroom, looked over his shoulder as he was turning away from them and smiled. Nicole had never seen his smile before and now she wished she hadn't.

  Derek's eyes followed hers, and they watched Thomas abruptly turn around and walk back toward them suspiciously. His hard blue eyes never blinked.

  "Making more friends, DGW?" he asked calmly with a disturbing curl to his lips. Derek took a more aggressive posture and glared at the strange kid with the stretched earlobes.

  "Johnny Football Hero is a more sensible choice for you," he added mockingly, strolling past th
em and giving them just wide enough berth to avoid Derek's reach in case he decided to respond with a fist.

  "You better keep on walking and shut your mouth, asshole, before I shut it for you," Derek warned him with a finger pointed at his head.

  Thomas did as he was told. He wanted no part of Derek, but he made sure to add a parting shot when he was safely down the hall.

  "OK, DBW," he said ominously before shoving his way violently through one of the double doors and exiting the school.

  "DBW? DGW? What the hell is that dipshit talking about?" Derek asked with a scowl, his temper flaring and his biceps rippling beneath his light-blue collared shirt.

  "I have no idea, but thanks for ... being here," Nicole said, feeling even more shaken up by "Lee Harvey" than she was yesterday in the cafeteria.

  "No problem. Do you actually know that kid?" Derek asked.

  "No, but I'm friends with one of his friends ... Adam Upton," she acknowledged with some hesitation.

  Right away, Derek backed away a step to process that. She could tell he thought less of her in an instant.

  "Wow," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "He's a pretty messed up kid. I'd be paranoid, too, if I were you — hanging around with that loser, who's friends with an even more psychopathic loser."

  Nicole closed her eyes and searched for a response as the bell for next period reverberated through the empty hall.

  "We went to the same elementary school, Adam and me," she finally said before changing the subject. "I have to eat something before I faint. I've got late lunch today."

  Derek calmed down and sensed he had been too harsh with her.

  "Sorry I ... sometimes I shoot my mouth off before I ...," he started.

  "It's OK," Nicole quickly interjected, walking down the hall toward the cafeteria. "I'm sure you were just being honest. But the truth is none of us knows each other very well. A lot of the kids in this school are going through a lot of different things with very different family backgrounds. It's so easy to judge each other, to jump to conclusions and dismiss each other. It's a toxic place sometimes and it freaks me out."

  Derek shrugged his shoulders as they strolled down the corridor together. "Are you always this deep about everything?" he asked.

  "Most of the time," she admitted with a shy grin. "Maybe I should go to a football game, let my hair down and have fun for a change."

  "Your hair is down right now," he countered with a smile as his eyes followed her blue streaks down the side and back of her gray-and-white blouse.

  "Metaphorically, I mean," she said playfully.

  "Our first game is next Friday night," Derek said.

  "Then I'll make sure to go and root you guys on," Nicole said, forcing herself to think happy thoughts for a change.

  "Will you be watching us practice again today?" he asked.

  "Would you like me to?" she asked with a flirtatious smile.

  "Definitely."

  ...

  Nicole was joined by Candace instead of Melanie as she overlooked football practice from the grassy hill for the second straight day. Her eyes were on Derek, but her mind was wondering what happened to Adam. Brody had taken the bus home, she had observed from a distance, but there had been no trace of his older brother at school all day. Even Thomas had bothered to show up for at least part of the day — just long enough to torture Nicole with another creepy encounter. Not even Derek could completely shield her from his diabolical aura.

  "I thought of you hiding in the bathroom at 12:14 today," Nicole told her friend as they both stared blankly toward the field while cars exited the parking lot behind them. They both wore hooded sweat shirts, with their hoods down, as the wind kicked up on a mostly cloudy afternoon. "I would've joined you, but I had English that period."

  "How's the killer friendship going?" Candace asked somewhat caustically.

  Nicole winced at her choice of words but decided not to argue.

  "He accepted my offer of friendship," she simply said, "but I haven't seen him at school all day."

  "Part of me thinks you're one brave, admirable girl for sticking your neck out like this and part of me thinks you're totally insane," Candace said as Nicole's iPhone chirped.

  "That's Adam now ... Hello?" Nicole asked.

  "What?" Candace mouthed in horror. "You gave him your number?"

  Nicole nodded, then asked Adam, "What's going on? Why didn't you come to school today?"

  As Nicole listened to his response, Candace pointed at her and whispered the words, "The second part of me is right — you're totally insane! You don't give a potential killer your number!"

  Nicole waved her off with one hand as she continued to listen to Adam's explanation.

  "Wow, OK, well I'll see you tomorrow then, Adam," she said. "Right ... second lunch. OK, bye."

  Candace shook her head and squinted in disbelief, but no words came out.

  "It's hard to be friends with somebody if you never call them or text them," Nicole said with an annoyed tone. "I need your help with this, C.C., not your judgment. I'm trying to save your life, my life and the lives of everybody in this school, and all I get is grief from everyone."

  Candace toned down her critical approach and grabbed Nicole's hand.

  "I just don't want you to get hurt, Nikki," she pleaded. "You're supposed to stay away from troublemakers, not hang around with them and give them your number. Don't put yourself in that position."

  "What am I supposed to do, C.C.?" Nicole asked.

  "I don't know — just let it be," Candace advised, then pointed toward the practice field. "Be a senior, go date a football player and forget about saving the world for a little while."

  That brought a smirk to Nicole's lips in between suddenly blushy cheeks.

  "Wait a minute," Candace said, pushing her face close to Nicole's and then looking out toward the field of golden helmets. "Are you up to something ... someone?"

  "Well, I'm not just standing here for no reason," she replied with a grin.

  "Who?" Candace pressed, a little too loudly.

  "Derek Schobell maybe," Nicole said softly.

  "Fantastic!" Candace yelled.

  "Shhhhhhhh," Nicole slapped her playfully.

  "That's more like it, girl. Good for you. How did that happen?" Candace asked.

  "Nothing's happened yet," she said. "But he's in my English class and we talked at my locker after class. I'm going to root him on at the game next Friday night if you want to come with me."

  "I'd love to," Candace said, "especially if you're going to be the normal, fun Nikki."

  Nicole smirked. "What? I can't invite Adam, too?"

  Candace rolled her eyes. "Really, Nikki?"

  "One friend on each side of me," she said, egging Candace on.

  "Now that's playing with fire right there, Nikki, and I'm not even joking," Candace said.

  "What?"

  "You can't be friends with Adam Upton and talk to him on the phone at the same time you're trying to date Derek," Candace warned.

  "We're not boyfriend-girlfriend. I told Adam we're just friends," Nicole explained.

  "Yeah, you might understand that, but you're dealing with a very unstable person who probably won't be satisfied with that, Nikki. That's the kind of shit that could set somebody like that off and your dream just might come true."

  Nicole cringed. The Derek thing kind of just happened and she didn't consider any possible consequences as they might relate to Adam. Then again, she had only talked to Derek so far — nothing more.

  "I guess you're right," she told Candace. "I'll make sure I don't kiss him or anything — at least until this whole thing blows over."

  "Don't let Adam try to kiss you either," Candace said. "You shouldn't even let yourself be alone with him. You're way too trusting of people."

  Nicole nodded, wondering how her best friend would react if she told her she drove Adam's younger brother home yesterday and then walked down a path alone with Adam at Whispering Pines
trailer park. Instead, she said, "Then I might ask you to come along with us sometime. How about that?"

  "I'd rather not hang out with that kid, Nikki," she replied. "It's not a safe situation for you or me."

  Nicole sighed.

  "What did he say on the phone anyway?" Candace asked.

  Nicole waited for the whistles blaring on the practice field to stop before answering.

  "He had a big fight with his father," she said.

  "Why?"

  "His father wouldn't let him take the truck and told him to walk to school because he ditched Brody in the parking lot yesterday. So Adam blew off school today."

  "Who's Brody?"

  "His younger brother," Nicole said. "He's a freshman."

  Candace shook her head and waved both of her hands in front of her.

  "OK, that's enough about the Upton family. Sorry I asked," she said. "I'd much rather talk more about Derek, but I've gotta go."

  "Mall on Saturday?" Nicole asked, hoping to end their rollercoaster chat on a high note.

  "Yeah, let's do that," Candace replied, "but don't invite Adam, Brody, Lee Harvey Oswald or anybody else. Got that? And I'm driving just to make sure."

  "Fair enough," Nicole said as they both left the berm and walked toward their cars.

  After a warm embrace, Candace got into her car and left, but Nicole noticed Mr. Richardson walking toward his car a couple of rows over from her and waved to him.

  "Hi Mr. Richardson," she said.

  "Hello Nicole," he replied, smiling and meeting her halfway between their vehicles.

  "I'm impressed you remembered my name already," she said.

  "How could I not? You're the student who will forever remember me as the teacher who offended you in the shortest amount of time any teacher has offended any student in the history of modern education," he deadpanned with his folksy voice.

  Nicole laughed out loud for the first time in what seemed like weeks and it felt good.

  "I'm sorry I was such a lesson crasher today," she said. "I promise I'll be better next class."

  "No apology necessary, Nicole," the teacher said, raising both hands, one of which clutched his briefcase. "That song will be stricken from the record from now on as far as I'm concerned. Your point was honest, well-made and well-taken."

  "Thank you for reacting so well to my concerns and hearing me out," she said. "I'll make it up to you by writing an extra poem ... it's one that's been rustling through my mind lately and I've gotta put it on paper. I think it will give you a better understanding of why I am the way I am."