Ferrell hung back to allow the rush of students to exit the building. Several of the inmates, as Tom called them, circled his squad car hooting and whistling, casting taunting looks his way, running their hands over its gleaming surface. Tom leaned his head toward his shoulder mic for effect, mouthing a few unspoken words to a nonexistent recipient. He glared at the teens threateningly as if calling for backup. The stunt worked. They laughed and spat on the sidewalk as they sauntered away.
Pete Reynolds had been reduced to human residue over the twelve years he had been Dean of Students at Manaloosa High. The job granted him the power to make decisions without the ability to fully enforce his authority. He mostly made idle threats, summoned the uncooperative parents of undisciplined students to meetings that left him feeling enfeebled and foolish, and often required assistance from school security when discussions grew hostile. Most parents were less educated than their ninth grade offspring.
“Thanks for coming Tom,” said Pete, motioning to a chair.
“No problem,” said Tom, “How can I help?”
Tom and Pete had forged a sympathetic bond over the years. The town wore people down like sandpaper. The toxic social fabric and failing economy layered resentment and the status of outsider onto anyone who fell short of the common suffering.
“I wanted you to be aware of a situation that’s brewing. I can’t let it go on any longer. Teachers are afraid, kids are afraid. Hell, I’m afraid Tom.”
“Maynard?”
“Yeah,” Pete paused, “I’m expelling him.”
Reynolds let the words drift across his desk to Ferrell, whose jaw clenched as he exhaled deeply. Tom gripped the arms of his chair and forced himself to a greater seated height. He looked down at his shoes, then up at Reynolds and nodded his head.
“It’s been coming for a while,” he said.
“It’s not like school is doing him any good Tom, but at least it gets him away from that uncle. When he shows up.”
“When?”
“Next Friday, I think. I have to cover this with security and the school board.”
“Any resistance?”
“None. Just nerves on edge. I think we need police presence here and at his house. He’ll be walked out. He’ll need a ride home.”
“From us,” Tom stated with a sigh.
“We’ll do it at a time when other students aren’t around.”
“And then,” Tom thought out loud.
“I know. I feel like I’m unleashing a monster on Manaloosa.”
“Things have a way of working out. His father got put away.”
Both men grew silent, considering the high price that had been paid on account of Johnny’s father.
“Call and confirm?” asked Tom.
Reynolds nodded, stood and shook Ferrell’s hand. Their eyes met with a sad resolve.
Tom unlocked the door to his cruiser and stood for a moment scanning the school property. Absent students it looked peaceful, inviting. A chain link fence surrounded the sports fields. Two baseball diamonds adjacent to a quarter mile track in the middle of a small stadium stood in the blazing sun like a small town American dream. He entered the car, called in on the radio and looked at his watch. Two hours until end of shift.