Silent Warrior, Chapter 21

As a handsome middle-aged gentleman in a brown ponytail stood by her side, Linda Williams took center stage of the gymnasium with a microphone in hand. She noticed the sullen expressions on her students’ faces as they filed into the bleachers one by one. Linda caught a glimpse of Adrienne Simpson sitting in the far upper corner by herself. The Principal’s heart ached for her and all of this new trauma she had to deal with. That was not to undermine the sadness of the other students filling the seats, all of which had slumped over postures and saggy frowns.

Right at the time everybody was seated where they needed to be, Linda tapped the microphone a few times and tested it for feedback. She gazed around at the audience before her with a combination of sympathy and strength in her face. She needed to be strong when others felt they had the strength sapped right out of them. Linda took a few breaths to steel her nerves and brought the microphone up to her lips to begin her oratory.

“Before I get started with this emergency school assembly, I want to get two talking points off my chest. First, I’d like to thank each and every one of you for coming today, students and teachers alike. I wish this was all under different circumstances, but it is what it is. And secondly,” Linda patted the ponytail-wearing gentleman on the shoulder and said, “This is Paul Corbin. He will be your new US history teacher as he’s taking over for the departed Tom Simpson. He’ll take good care of you and hopefully you’ll find him to your liking.”

Linda gazed down at her loafers to allow for a beat of silence. Reengaging the audience, she said, “I’m sure some of you heard by now what happened with Tom Simpson and why he’s not here today. For those of you who need to be brought up to speed, let’s just say he won’t be working here anymore. He made a bad decision and it cost him his job. I know that argument sounds familiar to those of you who were close to one Scott George. I know how quickly rumors can travel.”

Pacing back and forth with slowness in her step, Linda cleared her throat and said, “We can debate all day long about the morality of what Scott George did. Then again, we can also do the same thing for Mr. Simpson. And for Alan Young, another student whose name you might recognize. Varying opinions aside, I have a confession to make as it pertains to my tenure here at Perkins High.”

“I haven’t been a perfect Principal. I’ve made a few enemies here and there. But the one thing I can never forgive myself for…is allowing my own students to be victimized. I’ve been blind to the mistreatment going on around here. I thought it was just another day at the office. And then I saw a You Tube video of Scott George sobbing at his father’s grave while the so-called filmmaker Alan Young laughed in the background. That never should have been the ultimate breaking point and for that I’m sorry.”

Pointing her arm at the new teacher, she said, “As you can see from Mr. Corbin’s presence, there are going to be some changes around here. These changes are going to shake the very foundation of this once esteemed high school. No more abuses of power. No more hostile work environments. No more mediocre school lunches. Everything is going to change around here from top to bottom, left to right. Mind you, these changes aren’t going to happen overnight. Reforming a broken school takes time and effort. While I realize that patience isn’t always a virtue among everyone here today, it is needed if we’re to make these changes in a civilized and methodical way.

“To put it as delicately as possible, Scott George hit some bumps in the road during his educational experiences here. I’ve no doubt that many of you feel the same way. The only difference is, his story came to my attention first. And his story is the reason why these radical changes are happening in the first place. As long as they’re happening, I’d love know your stories as well. You know why? Because unlike what Tom Simpson had been preaching this whole time, democracy isn’t dead. Your voices matter now more than ever. You have the right to be heard and there’s not a teacher walking this earth that can take that away from you.

“Which brings me to my final talking point of the day. If you’ve been following the local news, you’d know that Scott is currently sitting in jail awaiting his final sentencing. The crime he committed had no victims, yet he currently has a five thousand dollar bail looming over his head. He doesn’t have a lot of time left before that bail will be revoked and his prison sentence will officially begin.

“Therefore, I am announcing to you all this morning that I’ve set up a Go Fund Me page to pay for his bail. The link to the page will be posted on the bulletin board outside of my office. I don’t expect any one person to fork over the full amount. In fact, I don’t want any of you to think that the new changes to this school will be contingent on how much money is donated to the cause. This isn’t extortion. This is purely optional. One dollar would be fine. A quarter. A nickel. Every little bit will help.

“If you’re wondering why you should care about a kid who was rebellious at his worst and tearful at his best, then know that I would do the same for any one of you if you were placed in a similar situation. No student deserves to be taken advantage of. No student deserves to be silenced. Every student has the right to an education should he or she decide to pursue it. I feel that way about Scott George, a kid with so much promise and so much of an upside that it breaks my heart to see him lose it all over an asinine loophole in the law he allegedly broke.

“I’m not asking you all for help. I’m pleading with you. I’m all but on my hands and knees. I’m asking for this school to be united, not torn apart by bullying or abuse of any kind. If there’s one thing Scott George will teach you all, it’s that empathy and love will go a lot further than empty disciplinary tactics and mindless conformity. He wants you all to be free thinkers. He wants you all to take advantage of the opportunities you have. He wants to see these changes to our school just as much as you all need them. I’ll close this assembly with one final plea: can you find it in your hearts to give Mr. George another chance?”

The expressions on the students’ faces spoke volumes: angry eyebrows, defeated frowns, and tense stares. One by one they left the gymnasium without waiting for Miss Williams to give permission to exit. They never said one word, presumably because for so long they had been fed the “democracy is dead” shtick like it was the worst tasting medicine imaginable, worse than any worm-infested food Scott George would eat in his new home. The only student who didn’t get up and leave was Adrienne Simpson, who pulled her knees up and tucked her head in her lap, feeling dejected and forlorn.

As soon as the bleachers were empty sans Adrienne, Paul Corbin placed a gentle hand on Linda Williams’s shoulder and said, “You did your best to convince them.”

“Did I really, Paul? Is this just another chapter of broken promises and ignorant leadership?” asked Linda in a sullen tone.

“Nobody’s perfect, Linda. Not you, not me, not Scott George himself. But that’s what makes us human. We grow, we adapt, and we learn things. Isn’t that what school is all about?”

“It’s too late for us now,” said Linda. “These changes should have been made long before Scott was taken into custody. I could have prevented all of this from happening. But instead, I sat by and did nothing. I was naïve to think everything was okay. Does anybody really tell you that everything is wrong in their world? For god’s sake, I should have never hired Tom in the first place.”

Linda’s stonewall strength had crumbled all around her and she couldn’t help but shed a few silent tears. How could she remain strong after all that’s happened? She believed it was all her fault and that she had no right to cry about it in the first place. But the tears kept coming, albeit in a silent sob that still caught the attention of Paul Corbin. The new history teacher gave the Principal a hug light enough to avoid awkwardness, but strong enough to know that he was by her side.

“Excuse me, Miss Williams?” said Adrienne, who was now standing within close range and Linda hadn’t even realized it until she picked her tear-soaked face up. The little freshman held out a twenty dollar bill and said, “I want to contribute this to Scott’s bail. It’s not much, but I hope it’s a step in the right direction. I’ve been saving it for a rainy day.”

A smile spread across Linda’s face despite the flowing tears. She accepted the twenty dollar bill and said, “Oh, Miss Simpson, bless your little heart. I know Scott means a lot to you. He means a lot to me too. Speaking of rainy days…” The last sadly joking sentence was punctuated by pointing at her own teary face, hence the raindrops.

“I’ve been doing that a lot lately too, Miss Williams. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re still one of the strongest women I know, next to my mom.”

Linda sighed, “I guess we all have to be strong now, don’t we? I just hope Scott feels the same way. Of course, it’s hard to be strong when you’re all alone behind those barred walls.”

Silent Warrior, Chapter 16

Linda Williams sat comfortably on her couch enjoying a bowl of wheat cereal while watching her daily dose of MSNBC. While her “pet project” Scott George no doubt spent his Saturday in misery, Linda felt guilty about being able to enjoy hers, so much so that she could barely concentrate on the world news. “I sure hope Tom is enjoying his little triumph,” she said softly to herself before taking another bite of cereal.

The rampant pounding on her front door jolted her so much that she spilled her food on the hardwood floors. Her spine tingled at the sounds of a familiar voice screaming, “Linda! Open the damn door! We need to talk!” The pounding grew progressively louder with every second Tom Simpson was forced to wait. “I know you’re in there! No sense in hiding from me!”

“Oh, for god’s sake!” belted Linda as she marched over to the front door in bare feet and a nightgown. Sure enough, Tom stood there with his fists balled up and his teeth gnashed together like a venomous snake waiting to pounce. “This better not be what I think it’s about.”

Taking labored breaths, Tom let himself in the house much to Linda’s confused dismay. He said, “You need to have a little chat with Scott George. Oh, he showed up to detention like he said he would. It’s what he did after that made me so...UGH!”

“Two things,” said Linda with her arms crossed. “One, you don’t come barging into my house without me letting you in first. And two, once you’re in my home, you don’t demand things from me like you own the damn place. Both of those things could have gotten you arrested today and I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a cage, quite frankly.”

With a sickening smile, Tom said, “Arrested?  You’re going to have me arrested? Well, you better bring the entire police force and the SWAT team, because you’re going to fucking need them!”

“Well, look at you, tough guy. The same Tom Simpson who’s so anal retentive about swearing is suddenly unleashing some nasty words at me. If hypocrisy was against the law, your ass would have been gone a long time ago.” Linda pointed at her front door and barked, “Seriously, you’d better get out of my home before things go south. Get a massage. Sit in a hot tub. Meditate. Do something relaxing for the first time in your life and quit acting like a small child!”

“Speaking of small children, guess what your teacher’s pet did to my daughter,” said Tom while grabbing his boss’s arms. “They had sex behind my back. Lots and lots of sex! Can you imagine that slimy little creature Scott putting his lips and other body parts on someone else?” Tom shivered for extra dramatic effect.

Linda ripped her arms away from Tom and said, “That’s not my problem, Tom, so quit trying to make it mine. While I don’t condone underage sex, there’s not really much we can do about it. If Scott and Adrienne are in love, so be it. Don’t forget: you were in love at one point in your life. And then you threw it all away in a disgraceful divorce. Is that where you’re getting this attitude from?”

Tom pulled his glasses off and shouted, “You don’t know a damn thing about my marriage!”

Linda remained stone-faced as she stood up to her employee. “So why don’t you educate me about why you’re so upset. You are an educator, after all. That’s part of your job description. Tell me why you suddenly care about your daughter’s life now that she’s completely out of yours.” Tom’s haunted face stared off into the distance as he refused to respond. “Tom! Tom! Ground control to Major Tom! Hello?!”

“How old is Scott?” asked Tom.

“Eighteen. Why?”

Tom’s insane smile widened and was accompanied by clownish chuckles. “I got him! I got him by the balls!” He grabbed Linda’s arms once again and excitedly explained his viewpoint to her. “Think about this for a minute: Scott George is eighteen years old and Adrienne is only fifteen. The two of them openly confessed to having sex. That means…Scott just broke the law! Oh, this is too good! This is too fucking good!”

Once again shoving Tom away, Linda said, “Give me a break, you sick freak. Scott’s no more of a pedophile than you are a good history teacher. Three years difference between them doesn’t mean a damn thing in today’s world.” Shoving a finger in his face, Linda said in a low, angry tone, “I’m warning you, Tom, don’t you go through with this so-called case of yours. This is beyond vindictiveness. You’re talking about ruining a young man’s life before it even has the chance to begin, all because of a stupid technicality that shouldn’t be there!”

“Oh, Linda, you’re just as naïve as Scott. For better or worse, the justice system in this country doesn’t care about circumstances. It doesn’t matter when young people are applying for a job. It doesn’t matter when they get suspended from school. It won’t matter when they’re sitting in the defendant’s chair with all eyes of the world judging them. The law is the law and it will be enforced. If you don’t believe me, ask any war protestor who’s sitting in jail over causing a traffic jam.”

Arms folded and death stare locked on her target, Linda sneered, “I’m warning you, Tom, if you press charges against Scott and turn his life upside down, I will fire you. I’ve been waiting a long time for an excuse to give you a pink slip. I think I may have just found it.”

“Well, look at you, Miss Social Justice Warrior,” said Tom with his hands on his hips. “You’re all about getting justice for women on college campuses who get gang raped at frat parties. You’re all about sending Alan Young to jail for trying to get away with less. But the minute statutory rape takes place and it involves one of your favorite students, you’re so quick to cover it up. Who’s the hypocrite now?”

“There are degrees, Tom!” shouted Linda. “There are circumstances! I don’t give a damn what the law says! Everybody is different! Every case is different! You can’t just paint them all with the same brush! Lord knows what else you’re applying that twisted logic to! Is that how you teach slavery in your history class?! By painting all black slaves with the same brush?!”

“Wow, your naivety really does astound me, Linda,” chuckled Tom while shaking his head. “Don’t you get it by now? This country has gone through the ugliest history imaginable and not a goddamn thing has changed. The ugliness never went away, Linda. It just showed itself in a different way. The same applies to the law, for better or worse. Unless Scott has the debating skills to back it up, he’s not going to make it with the wolves in that courtroom. I’ve tried to toughen him up to the world around him, but he’d rather be sheltered. Well, they don’t shelter people in the darkest parts of prison, I’ll tell you that right now!”

“Just know this, Tom…” said Linda with a trembling voice. “You will not have the support of this school or any of its officials. And just like your classes, you won’t have the support of your own pupils. You want to win this war? You’re going to win it on your own. Clean your belongings out of your office first thing Monday morning. You’re fired, Tom. Get out of my house!”

Tom’s maniacal chuckling caused him to double over before he said, “That’s okay, Linda. I don’t need anybody’s help to win this case. The law is on my side and that’s the only ally I’ll ever need. I don’t need you. I don’t need my ex-wife. I sure as hell don’t need my daughter’s help. Scott George is going to crash and burn because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants like our sex ed program says to do.”

Before Tom could cross the threshold to the outside world, Linda stopped him with one last thing to say. “No matter how this court case turns out, whether you’re triumphant or defeated, just know that you’ll have nothing you want by the time it’s all over. Once Scott George is behind bars, there will be another rebellious and open-minded student to take his place. And another. And another. You’re not going to send a good message to your students by going through with this petty trial. One of these days, Tom, the hate alone will be enough to give you a stress-induced heart attack.”

Fiddling with the door knob, Tom looked down at his feet and said, “You know, Linda, some people prefer to die while having the best sex of their lives or doing some kind of extreme sports activity. Me? I think you just gave me an idea of how I’d like to die someday. See you soon!” Tom closed the door behind him and walked back to his car, leaving Linda Williams in a cataclysm of her own tears.

Silent Warrior, Chapter 15

The fact that Mr. Simpson didn’t get a speeding ticket or a smashed up car on the drive to his daughter’s house was nothing short of miraculous. His hands squeezed the steering wheel like it was the throat of Scott George. His eyes burned brightly like a fiery orphanage. His veins bulged and pulsated while his teeth were so tightly clamped that he could easily max out his dental insurance. When he finally pulled up to Adrienne’s house, he slammed on the brakes and nearly smashed his forehead against the windshield (another miracle that he didn’t).

The history teacher huffed and wheezed in an attempt to reason with himself. He didn’t want to go in there guns blazing (because he still loved his daughter), but that message scrawled across his blackboard did no favors for his boiling rage. It played over and over in his head like a scratchy record of cacophonic screaming. He got out of the car and slammed the driver’s door shut before marching with authority to the front door of Adrienne’s house.

Taking a few more deep breaths to steady his pulsating nerves, he noticed his ex-wife’s car wasn’t in the driveway. Adrienne must have been home alone. Or maybe not. Maybe he was with someone a little more familiar to her. Mr. Simpson clutched his agonized face and scraped his fingernails across his cheeks in a raw attempt to push that thought to the back of his mind. He opened the door without knocking and bolted straight for Adrienne’s room. A few more whirlwinds of anxiety-crushing breaths later, he barged into his daughter’s room and caught her painting her toenails bright pink.

Adrienne crab walked across her bed and allowed her nail polish to spill all over her carpeted floor. “D…Dad? What are you doing here? Don’t you know how to knock?” she stuttered.

With a sinister visage and clenched fists, Mr. Simpson took a few more hard breaths before stating his business in the house that was once his. “Your mother and I may be divorced. It may have been one of the worst experiences in the Simpson family history. But I am still your father, Adrienne. I still love you very much. That’s why I must insist that you stay away from Scott George.”

Her jaw quivering, Adrienne said, “W…why? I love him, Dad. He loves me too.”

“That’s not love!” belted Mr. Simpson, causing his daughter to jump out of her skin. “Scott George doesn’t give a damn about anybody but himself. He’s dating you to get back at me. I may be a rotten bastard at times, but at least I’d never hurt you the way he’s going to.”

Sobbing and breathing heavily at the same time, Adrienne said, “Bullshit! You’ve done nothing but hurt me and my mom ever since you married her! All the yelling, all the rules, all the arguments…I remember everything, Dad. I’ll always remember those no matter how many times I see my therapist. Yeah, Dad: you put me in therapy. That must be a proud moment in your life. So much yelling. I can still hear it in my head!”

Crossing his arms, Mr. Simpson said, “I didn’t yell at you and your mom because I wanted to cause you pain. I did it because I wanted order. That was something this household was lacking for a long time. Your grades weren’t always the best and your mother was complacent at her job. Sometimes yelling is the best way to get through to someone. You’ll understand one day when you’re a mother, hopefully not with Scott’s child.”

“Order?” cried Adrienne as she shot up from her bed and shoved her father. “I call bullshit! I had you figured out a long time ago, Dad! In fact, I want to show you something that you’ll never be able to deny.” She reached in her underwear drawer and pulled out a stack of magazines before slamming them on her computer desk for Mr. Simpson’s perusal.

The teacher’s heart thumped deafeningly in his chest as he thumbed through the magazines and saw pictures of athletically gifted men with chiseled frames. “Heh…your porn collection? Does your mom know you have this?”

“They’re not my magazines, Dad. They’re yours.”

Mr. Simpson’s blood froze into a solid block of anxiety. His nerves tingled as he took one more look at these “beautiful” men. “Where did you find these?”

“Under your bed, Dad. I’ve known about them for a long time now, but I didn’t want to say anything because I was too interested in keeping this family together,” confessed Adrienne, who held her father’s hands in hers with a tender loving touch. “Dad…” she sobbed. “I don’t care that you’re gay. I would have loved you anyways. You didn’t have to keep it locked inside you this whole time. Hell, I would have helped you find a nice boyfriend. You’re angry at everyone because you don’t feel accepted. You didn’t have to take it out on your own family. You don’t have to take it out on your students either. Dad…let me help you! Please!”

Mr. Simpson pulled his hands out of his daughter’s loving grasp and angrily whispered, “I’m beyond help, Adrienne. There’s no turning back for me or this family. And there’s certainly no turning back for Scott George. It’s like I said to him in detention this morning: I’m definitely going to hell for all of the disgusting things I’ve done. But if I’m going to hell, I’m taking the whole world with me. Every homophobe, every bigot, and everybody in between…they’re all going down in flames. I don’t know how I’m going to get back at Scott, but it’s going to happen. Detention isn’t good enough for him. I need something a little extra!”

Adrienne dropped to her knees and begged her father, “Please! Don’t hurt my boyfriend! I love him!”

Petting his daughter’s hair with fake comfort, Mr. Simpson said, “Don’t worry, my darling. I’m not going to get physical with him. I can’t even afford a pistol on my teacher’s salary. Like I said, I don’t know what I’m going to do to him yet, but when I do…I’m going to make it hurt!”

“No…no…NO!” wept Adrienne while pounding her father’s chest with clenched fists. “Don’t do it! Leave him alone! He’s mine, goddamn it! He’s mine!”

To end the assault, Mr. Simpson shoved Adrienne on her ass and caused her to bawl even louder than before. Realizing what he just did, he clutched his scalp and sighed in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Adrienne. I didn’t mean to do that. Here, let me help you up.”

He offered his hand for Adrienne to grab, but instead of accepting it, she screamed, “Get out! Get out of my house and don’t come back! You’re not a father! You’re a glorified sperm donor! I hate you, Dad! I fucking hate you! Get out of my house before I call the police! Move it!”

Holding up his hands defensively, Mr. Simpson backed off and silently said, “Okay, I’m leaving. It’s okay, dear. It’s okay.”

As the teacher turned around to leave, he overheard Adrienne screaming at him some more. “No! It’s not okay! It’ll never be okay again! Get the fuck out of my house, you pig! You wanted this divorce! Now you’ve got it!” That last sentence was punctuated by Adrienne throwing a hardcover book at her dad and nailing him in the back of the neck, to which the teacher just flinched and shrugged it off. He ran out of the house and back into the driver’s seat of his car.

Mr. Simpson clutched the steering wheel tightly while tears poured from his eyes. Adrienne’s words stung him like a thousand scorpion tails. He almost considered backing off from Scott just out of respect for her. He still wanted to love his daughter. He still wanted to make things right. But she wouldn’t let him. Nobody would. He even damned his own sexual chemistry for getting in the way of what could have been a beautiful family love.

He screamed like a gorilla and wailed on the steering wheel with closed fists. His assault could have easily disabled his own vehicle if it hadn’t been for one lingering thought interrupting his moment of rage. He still had one more person to talk to that morning. There was somebody out there who could make things right even though they were on less agreeable terms than him and Adrienne.

Mr. Simpson smiled maniacally and breathed heavily as he said to himself, “Miss Williams…guess who’s coming to breakfast!” He laughed like a loony toon as he started his car and peeled out onto the empty suburban street, once again evading a speeding ticket through the kindness and mercy of the universe.

Silent Warrior, Chapter 10

Scott George could have stayed locked up in his own imagination for a thousand years and he would’ve been happy. Even in a fictional dream, holding Adrienne Simpson in his arms was a warm experience that made him tingle all over his body. But eventually the real world caught up to him and it was time once again to go to Perkins High School a.k.a. hell on earth. Not even fictional escapism could free him from his responsibilities. At eighteen years old, he wasn’t a kid anymore. This shit had to be done.

But instead of catching the school bus and surrounding himself with laughing troglodytes, Scott woke up just before dawn and walked the whole way in solitude. Instead of starving his already pencil-thin body even further, he grabbed two unheated Pop Tarts and nibbled on them gently like a hamster. And instead of looking like a homeless Power Ranger with a rat’s nest for hair, he combed his hair backwards and wore blue jeans and combat boots with his obligatory black shirt.

He toed the line between love and war with his new dress code and eating habits. If he wanted to make his dream a reality, he had to fight for what he wanted. “Heart Shaped Box” by Nirvana wasn’t exactly war music, but the MP3 soundtrack powered Scott through his early morning walk to school. Not one shitty human being bumped his shoulders or cursed him out the whole way. Either that was a good sign or the calm before the storm.

Scott had taken his last hamster bite of breakfast by the time the sun bloomed in the sky and he arrived at school. To his surprise, not one student locked eyes with him or even gave off a hint of a mocking smile. Still, he had a knot in his stomach that wouldn’t stop pounding. He had to swallow hard to keep his Pop Tarts in his stomach, but he finally trudged up the stone stairs and past the front door. So far, so good. A sigh of relief escaped his frosting-covered lips.

“Mr. George. Can I have a word with you in my office,” said Principal Williams, who stood at the entrance with her arms folded, probably expecting Scott this whole time.

“Uh…,” stammered Scott as he looked like a deer in the headlights. “Can it wait until after history class?”

“Are you really that eager to put up with Mr. Simpson for another day? You didn’t seem to mind bailing out on him yesterday when you crept out of detention. What makes you so happy to see him this time around?” Lingering students let out their “ooo’s” and Miss Williams barked at them to shut up and keep walking. She then motioned for Scott to join her in her office before shutting the door behind her and instructing him to have a seat.

Scott’s face was aimed low at his boot laces, studying the various patterns as some kind of excuse to avoid eye contact with yet another authority figure. “Listen, Miss Williams, if you’re going to punish me, do it already and spare me the lecture. I know what I did was wrong and the sooner I get this crap over with, the better.”

Miss Williams lifted Scott’s head with a singular finger underneath his chin and said, “There’s more to it than that, my friend. Skipping detention is a serious offense on its own, but I’m more interested in the whys than the whats. I know about your lack of love with Mr. Simpson. I know this because pretty much every student he has says the same thing about him: that he’s senselessly cruel and doesn’t care one way or another about their fates.”

As soon as the Principal removed her finger from Scott’s chin, he asked, “If he’s really that much of a pain in the ass, why don’t you just fire him already? I don’t think there’s a single person in this building who would miss his sorry ass.”

“Duly noted, Mr. George,” said Miss Williams as she folded her hands across her chest. “Trust me, I’d love nothing more than to tell him not to let the door hit him on the ass on his way out. But it’s not that easy. It never has been. Teachers and other authority figures can’t just get fired over disagreements with the students. In other words, you don’t have to be a friendly person in order to qualify for the job. It’s screwed up, but that’s the way things go sometimes.”

A frustrated Scott slapped his own thighs and said, “It’s beyond screwed up, Miss Williams. School is supposed to be a place where kids can grow and learn things. What are they supposed to learn from having a bad teacher? That’s not a rhetorical question. I’d actually like to know the answer to that. Sure, there are bosses out there who never get their comeuppance, but that’s the very thing we should be avoiding when we have the chance.”

“I’m sorry, Scott. It’s out of my hands. What happens to you from this point on is up to Mr. Simpson since he’s the one who assigned you to detention in the first place. If you stiff him again, I’ll have no choice but to expel you.”

Scott folded his arms and said, “That’s right, Miss Williams. Punish the victim. Punish the guy who’s been laughed at for his whole high school career. Punish the guy who has few opportunities to stand up for himself. Punish the guy who actually knows what justice is supposed to mean. I knew it. I have no fucking allies in this school. Nobody really does. That’s why they’re acting out the way they do.”

“There’s no joy in this for me, Scott,” said Miss Williams as she leaned forward in her chair. “Even with students who deserve punishment the most, there’s no happiness in dishing it out to them. I also know what justice is, but I’m also wise enough to know that justice doesn’t always get served. Whatever Mr. Simpson has planned for you as punishment for ditching him yesterday, you’d better follow through with it.”

“Got it,” said Scott while sarcastically nodding his head. “Any other dreams of mine you want to crush while you have me here?”

“No, not particularly. But in order to make one of them come true, you have to endure a little bit of the suck for just a few minutes.” When Scott formed a confused look on his face, the Principal explained, “I don’t know if you’re aware of this or not, but there’s a video of you being circulated on You Tube. It has thousands of hits already and the comments are cringe-worthy at best.”

Reality smashed Scott in the stomach with a sack of bricks. He bent over in his seat and fought like hell to suppress vomit. Principal Williams rushed to get a trash bucket underneath his face, but after moments of intense breathing and body pulsations, it turned out Scott didn’t need it. He leaned back in his chair with pinprick feelings in his face and chest. He swallowed more saliva and it tasted like warm, bitter tea. Tears barbecued his stinging eyes as he struggled even harder to keep himself together.

“You already know about it, don’t you, Scott,” said Principal Williams with a hand on her student’s shoulder. The two of them hugged it out while Scott’s fiery tears bathed the Principal’s suit jacket. “You don’t have to tell us any more about it. We know who filmed that video.”

Scott broke the embrace and shouted, “So what?! You said yourself justice doesn’t always get served! So what the fuck are you going to do to that bitch-ass Alan Young?! Does he get to slip through the cracks or do only teachers get preferential treatment?!”

“If you’d stop bawling for a moment and see for yourself, you’d have the answer!” Miss Williams retorted while pointing her finger towards her office window.

Scott’s waterworks were cut short as confusion took over. Miss Williams pointed again and again until he pulled himself together and humored her this one time. His eyes widened as he watched two police officers talking to Alan Young. He couldn’t tell what they were saying, but whatever it was, it couldn’t have been friendly. The two cops spun Alan around and slammed him against the wall while cuffing his thick wrists behind his back. Straggling students screamed in horror at what they were witnessing. Even Alan himself couldn’t help but shed a few tears as he was being hauled away.

“Invasion of privacy, cyber harassment, you name it, this kid has done it all in that one video,” said Miss Williams. “If the other kids can pay attention to a stupid video, then they’ll damn sure pay attention to Alan’s arrest. He needed to be made an example of, Scott. Sooner or later, Mr. Simpson will get his. I can’t tell you when or how, but the domino effect is already in place.”

For the first time in what seemed like ages, Scott’s tearful smile seemed genuine instead of looking like a psychotic killer. He spun around and embraced Principal Williams once more while thanking her over and over again in a high pitched squeal. Feeling awkward, the authority figure returned the hug ever so slowly and noncommittally. “You’re welcome, Scott,” she said. “Please let go of me and get back to your classes. I believe second period is about to begin anytime soon.”

Silent Warrior, Chapter 5

Tom Simpson had a strange feeling this would happen: sitting in the office next to his classroom with a cup of coffee glaring at the clock on his wall. Three o’clock turned into three-fifteen. Three fifteen turned into three-thirty. The teacher’s face scrunched downward as though he drank warm piss instead of hot coffee. “I knew it…” he silently groaned to himself. “I knew it!” He punctuated that sentence by throwing his coffee mug against the brick wall and watching the brown liquid drizzle down onto the carpet. He huffed and stomped out of his office without bothering to clean up the mess he made.

As Mr. Simpson stormed down the hallway with fists clenched and brows furrowed, several students (who actually showed up to their respective dentitions) tucked their faces away in fear. Some of them even swerved right past him in a big hurry to get their asses out of school. Mr. Simpson’s sniper sight zeroed in on the Principal’s office. He took a few deep, raspy breaths before fixing his shirt and throwing the door open.

An older black woman in a flower-patterned dress shirt and black slacks typed away at her computer before noticing Mr. Simpson standing furiously in her doorway. She gave him an awkward stare before asking, “Can I help you?”

“Yes, Miss Williams, you can.” Mr. Simpson took a seat next to the Principal and said, “Scott George was supposed to show up after school for detention at three o’clock sharp. It’s a half hour later and he still hasn’t shown!” Tom pounded Linda Williams’s desk and asked in a disturbingly calm voice, “What do you plan on doing about it?”

Miss Williams took her glasses off and folded her hands around her belly before leaning backwards in her chair, clearly no-selling Mr. Simpson’s silent rage. “While I don’t condone skipping out on detention, I also can’t condone you pounding your fist on my desk demanding things from me. Slow your role, Tom. Tell me exactly what happened and I’ll see what I can do about it.”

With animated body language and a silent voice, Mr. Simpson said, “Scott George has zero respect for my authority. He frequently back sasses me, he swears in class, and today was just the day where I’ve had enough of him. Can you blame me?”

“Ordinarily I wouldn’t,” said Miss Williams. “But this seems to be a pattern with you throughout your career. You push your students to their breaking point and wonder why they’re tipping over the edge. What I’m trying to say is, you’re not exactly the easiest teacher to get along with.”

“So what?!” squeaked Mr. Simpson. “Lots of people in the world have to put up with authority figures they don’t like. It’s a hard fact of life. Sometimes in this world, you have to get along with people who don’t necessarily have to get along with you. In this school, you get either an F or detention. In the job market, you get fired. Or if it’s a judicial situation, you go to jail. It’s not the most pleasant system of authority, but if we could all just democratically elect our own authority figures, we’d get nothing done. Haven’t you learned by now that democracy is dead?”

Miss Williams gave a closed-mouth chuckle, shook her head, and said, “So that’s what you’ve been teaching your students, huh? You’re a history teacher who tells his own kids that democracy is dead. Maybe that’s why they don’t want to hang around you anymore, because you suck the hope right out of them. I don’t know if you’re aware of this or not, but part of your role as a teacher is to guide your students to a better life. If you can’t do that, then you’re not a teacher.”

“But see, that’s the thing, Linda,” said Mr. Simpson while flailing his hands around. “The only people who I can guide to a better life are the ones who’re willing to meet me half way. This is the land of opportunity, not the land of milk and honey. Scott George doesn’t give a damn about earning anything from me, hence why he didn’t show up to detention this afternoon.”

Miss Williams typed on her keyboard and said, “Well, that’s funny, because judging from his other grades, he seems to be well on his way to the Promised Land. Look at my computer screen for a moment. Algebra: B+. Graphic novels studies: A-. General art class: A-. Physical education: A+. Chemistry: B-. Not bad so far, huh? But the one place where he struggles the most is US history, your class, where he’s currently sitting pretty at a C-.” She leaned back in her chair again and asked, “Tell me, Mr. Simpson: why is Scott George struggling one class and doing so well in the others? Is US history his weakness or are you just not helping him through his tough times?”

“I could have helped him through whatever he needed if he’d just show up for thirty minutes of detention,” said Mr. Simpson with folded arms. “He’d be getting his very own tutor session.”

“Don’t be a smart-ass, Tom, you know full well that’s a bunch of BS,” warned Miss Williams.

“Oh, so you’re going to use foul language too?” asked Mr. Simpson. “And I’m the bad influence on my students? That’s part of the reason why Scott was supposed to show up today. Oh sure, he gets detention for saying it here, but what if he said it front of a bunch of small children? Or churchgoers? Or his own boss, if he’s actually able to get a job once he’s out of school.”

“He’ll cross that bridge once he gets to it. In the meantime, you’d better stop worrying about the stuff that comes out of your students’ mouths or what they do when they’re not in school. Let’s not kid ourselves and pretend that these teenagers are just sitting around being squeaky clean. That’s not what life is about for these kids. The only thing you’re teaching them by holding Scott George hostage is how to resent tight-asses like you!”

Mr. Simpson pounded Miss Williams’s desk again and asked, “Are you going to do anything about him not showing up or are you just going to turn a blind eye to the bigger picture! He needs to be made an example of!”

Miss Williams’s temper exploded when she stood up, towered over Mr. Simpson, and belted, “I’ll deal with Scott George in my own damn way! I’ll have a talk with him first thing tomorrow morning! If it makes you happy, I’ll even leave a message on his house phone telling him to show up!” He continued her vengeful oratory with finger pointing at a stoic Mr. Simpson. “As far as you’re concerned, you’re leaning on the precipice of career suicide by talking to me that way! You don’t give the orders, I do! This is my school and you’re not going to disrespect me any further!”

Mr. Simpson smiled and shook his head before standing up to meet Miss Williams’s coffee brown eyes. “You’re angry, huh? Now you understand my frustration with people like Scott George. I’m glad we could reach an understanding.”

As Mr. Simpson patted Miss Williams’s shoulder, she shrugged him off and snapped, “Get your hands off of me and get the hell out of my office before I fire you!” The history teacher held his hands up defensively and strolled out of the office, shutting the door behind him. He could see through the glass door that the Principal plopped back down in her seat and rubbed her aching temples.

The teacher turned around and saw a semi-circle of wide-eyed students fixating their gazes upon him. Mr. Simpson threw his hands up and yelled, “Boogedy-boogedy-boo!”, causing the crowd to quickly disperse in several directions.

Off in the distance, Mr. Simpson saw that another student glaring at him was his own daughter Adrienne, who had her arms folded and was leaning against the wall. Seeing his estranged flesh and blood in that mood brought a sinking feeling to his own heart. He let out a sigh and turned around to walk away.

“What am I doing?” he whispered to himself. He began to think there was a little bit of truth to what Miss Williams said, as much as it stung. Maybe that was why his wife divorced him and took Adrienne away. Maybe that was why he had a crappy car waiting for him in the parking lot. Maybe that was why he dined on TV dinners every night while watching the news alone.

He slapped himself in the head for thinking such “horrendous” thoughts. He knew he had to stand his ground if he was ever to get a victory against his own students. It was too late for him to win the war against his own wife and daughter. But the battle lines had already been drawn between himself at Scott George. If he had it his way, he’d bring back corporal punishment just for that one student. But now that he was fighting this war, he had to figure out what exactly he stood for. As a history teacher who taught various wars in his class, he needed to figure this out quickly. Otherwise, history would repeat itself over and over again.