Chapter 2

I think she was going to ask if the car went fast. The other reason I parked where I did is because it’s a straight shot out of the parking lot and onto a city street. And this particular city street has no houses for about two hundred yards and no side streets for what amounts to about three blocks. Sometimes, I just like to hit it and take off. Like now.

“OH MY GOD!”

“Yeah, it can go fast when I want it to.” I slowed down to a street legal thirty-five miles an hour before I got to the first corner and its stop sign. I brought the car to a halt and looked at my passenger.

“Which way to your house?”

“I thought you knew that?”

“Jean, we haven’t talked much since ninth grade. I really don’t know where you live.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. Turn left.”

“Left it is.”

I turned and followed her directions and before you know it, I was in the foothills and in a very nice part of town. Jean directed me to turn right, between two very impressive brick pillars. I stopped short of the large gate barring the way. Jean reached into her purse and the gate began to rise up.

“Wow! You guys expecting an invasion?”

“You never know. Drive up to the house.”

I slowly accelerated up the winding driveway to a large roundabout that was half covered by the house’s extended roof. It was supported by four white columns and I pulled underneath and stopped in front of the huge double doors. Jean was looking in her purse, pulling out a pen and then looking at me with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment.

“Paul, I don’t have anything to write on.”

I reach to the front of the center console and pulled the latch to release the lid. Inside the storage bin was a small pad of paper. I removed it and handed it to Jean. She smiled and took it and wrote as I gave her my home address and mom’s cell phone number.

Again she hung with the cool kids and I worked at a job to make my way. From the opulence of her house, I was guessing that she never worked for anything.

“I’ll give this to my father and he’ll get with your mother about dinner. Thank you for the ride home and thanks again for saving me.”

“I’m happy to have been at the right place at the right time,” I got out of the car and ran around to open her door as I spoke.

Getting out, she smiled and turned to her front door, then stopped looking back at me with the greenest eyes, ever.

“Paul, would you please be my friend?”

“Jean, I always thought we were friends. Not hang out together, best friends, but friends.”

“I mean a real friend. Someone I could call and talk to if I’m having a problem.”

I closed the passenger door and walked to her and took the paper out of her hand. I wrote my cell number on it and returned it to her. She looked down and smiled.

“You have my number, Jean. If you need me, call me.”

Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have worded it that way either.

When I got to school the next day, I found Jean waiting for me at my locker.

“Hi Paul. Do you have a minute?”

“Sure, Jean. What can I do for you?”

“We have lunch at the same time, can I please sit with you?”

“Sure. This is a departure from the norm. Is something wrong?”

“Some of the kids I was hanging around with are blaming me for what happened to Bill. It’s getting a bit uncomfortable.”

“That’s a shame. My lunch table is always open for you no matter where I sit.”

“Thanks. I gotta get to homeroom.”

She flashed that smile and those green eyes and turned, scooting off down the hall. I turned and walked to my homeroom, gathering a few kids along the way. I went to my assigned seat and opened a book I’d neglected to fully read the night before. While I did that, the teacher came in at the bell and quietly took attendance.

“Were you talking to Jean Carlesetti?” my friend Trent Collier asked in a whisper.

“Yeah.”

“Wow!” Trent said.

“What wow? We’ve been friends since before ninth grade.”

“But Jean Carlesetti! She’s hot!”

“What do you care. You had Ingrid Skarsgaard all lined up and walked away. OK?”

I went back to my book and ignored my good friend Trent Collier. We had been buds since grade school. If I had a single close friend, it was Trent. The fact that he’d noticed Jean talking to me, meant that others had noticed as well and the rumor mill would be jumping and jiving before the day was out.

I never messed with the rumor mill. No one ever talked about me and I never talked about myself or Trent or anyone else. At the end of class. the bell rang and I closed my book and headed off to English Lit.

My last morning classroom was right next to the cafeteria, so I always got there early and was able to get a table that was close to the exit so I could leave late. The food of the day was the dreaded mystery meat, along with mushy green peas and some sort of fruit cobbler. I’d taken my seat and was about to get a glass of milk when Jean came to the table.

“Hi Paul. Is it still OK for me to sit with you?”

“Of course. I was just going to get a glass of milk. Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m all set. Thank you.”

I went to get a glass of milk and saw that today they had chocolate milk so I got two. I figured that if Jean wanted one that was fine, and if not, that was fine too. As I got back to my seat, I noticed that two good sized guys had moved my tray to another table and had seated themselves on either side of Jean. She looked scared to death.

“Who moved my tray?” I asked trying to sound none too friendly.

“I did. Sit somewhere else.”

“OK. Jean would like to join me over here?”

Before she could answer, one of the guys answered for her.

“She don’t want to eat with you.”

“Doesn’t,” I corrected.

“What?”

“Doesn’t want to eat with you. Who do you have for English?”

“Get lost kid.”

That verified my thought that these two might not be students. I stood in my place at the end of the table and looked at Jean.

“Jean, I asked if you wanted to join me at another table. I’m waiting for a reply. Don’t worry about these two.”

“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear. Get fucking lost!”

I leaned in towards the guy doing all the talking.

“Do you want to leave on your own or do you want some help?”

The huge guy looked at me like I had two heads and he began to stand up. When he did, I raised my voice towards one of the teachers who had lunchroom duty that day.

“Fight!” I yelled as loud as I could and threw the glass of milk in my right hand in the guy’s face. He must have been inhaling as the milk hit him because he began to cough and sputter and as soon as he brought his hands to his face, I pushed him sideways.

The guy had his feet tangled in the legs that were part of the foldable lunchroom tables and with his legs twisted and his hands covering his face he fell over forward and his knee made a really bad noise as his leg bent forward like it would normally bend backwards. The other guy was on his feet and he was much more nimble.

But before he could do anything the lunchroom teacher was there with a security guard right behind him.

“What’s going on, O’Dell?”

“These two guys aren’t students and they were harassing Jean and me.”

The teacher, who just so happened to be the wrestling coach took hold of the guy not on the ground and asked him for his student ID. When the guy couldn’t produce any, the security guy was on the radio and calling for police to come to the school.

Mr. Walkowski, the teacher, looked at Jean and me, “Mr. O’Dell. Miss. Carlesetti. Report to the office. NOW!”

I took Jean’s hand and we left the lunchroom quickly and calmly. The office was just down the hall and up a flight of stairs to the ground floor. We walked in to see that there was already some activity among the secretaries. I pointed Jean to a chair and I took the one between her and the door. After sitting, I looked at Jean.

“Well, remind me to not have lunch with you anymore.”

Jean looked at me in horror and began to tear up.

“Hey, hey, hey, Jean. That was meant as a joke. What happened in there?”

“Those are some of the guys Bill was going to give me to. They still want me. Paul, I’m scared.”

She began to sob and leaned into me. I put an arm around her.

“I’m sure your father will take care of this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well he must know what happened to Bill and what he was doing. Right?”

Jean looked at me and that was when I knew. Her father had no idea what she was involved in. This was getting messy. And what’s more, now I was getting scared. I’m young, strong and a little cocky. But I can’t fight a man and come out on top. And if these guys were tied to gambling that meant organized crime and that meant guns and the sort of bad stuff that could involve my mom.

I was about to say something when the principal came back to the office and looked at Jean and I. He was followed by a guy in a suit and a cop.

“Martha, call these students’ parents and get them in here,” he calmly asked one of the secretaries. Then he and the guy in the suit went to his office and the cop stood near the door facing us.

“Jean, what have you gotten me into?”

“Excuse me,” the cop said, “but you two should probably not talk too much. I’d have to report anything you said that could be important.”

He looked at me then Jean and he winked at her. That got my attention. I looked at Jean and she looked me in the eyes and pursed her lips.

“I’m sorry.”

Jean and I were still sitting in our chairs when my mom came in.

“Paul, what’s going on? There are police cars all over outside.”

“There are? Wow. Mom, this is Jean Carlesetti.”

“Hello, Jean.”

“Hello, Mrs. O’Dell.”

“Your father called me yesterday and asked Paul and I to come to dinner this weekend. Does this have to do with that?”

“Yes and no. The dinner was for my father to say thank you to Paul for his help when I was attacked. Today is something else.”

“Are you Mrs. O’Dell?” one of the secretaries asked.

“Yes, I am.”

“Please have a seat.”

My mom sat in the chair next to Jean and I could see her mind working out what questions to ask me when the office door opened and Mr. Carlesetti walked in with two other men. I recognized the one big guy from the hospital. The office was getting crowded. All we needed now was the two guys who were sitting at our lunch table.

The principal came out of his office and welcomed my mom and Mr. Carlesetti. He asked them to come into his office. The two men with Jean’s dad looked at each other and one went with him and the other stood next to the cop.

It must have been about fifteen minutes before the secretary answered the buzzing intercom and shortly afterwards everyone walked out of the principal’s office. As my mom walked past me, she waved me to come with her. I stood and before I could look back at Jean, her father had done the same thing with her. The guy in the suit who had been with the principal first, stopped to talk to the cop.

“Come along but stay outside of the room.”

“Yes, Detective.”

Detective? This was getting more and more scary.

Our little procession left the office and went down the hall to the larger conference room used for department staff meetings and some club meetings. Once inside we all took seats, with the principal sitting at the head of the table. Mr. Carlesetti and Jean sat to the right side of the table. My mom and I sat to the left. The two guys that came in with Mr. Carlesetti took places next to and behind Jean. The detective sat at the other end of the table.

“For those of you that don’t know, I’m James Garfield, principal here at Von Steuben High School. At the other end of the table is Detective Roberts of the Boise Police. To my right are Mr. Leo Carlesetti and his daughter Jean. To my left are Mrs. Joyce O’Dell and her son Paul. The man sitting next to Jean is her lawyer and the others in the room are either police or security.”

“We had an incident in our lunchroom today. Two members of a local gambling gang confronted Miss Carlesetti and Mr. O’Dell. We are still trying to ascertain the nature of that confrontation. The two men involved are in custody, one in the hospital, courtesy of Mr. O’Dell, and the other with the police for questioning.” My mom looked at me before the principal continued. “At this point I’d like to know if anyone would like to speak about what happened.”

“Before that happens,” Mr. Carlesetti said. “Paul, do you have a lawyer?”

“No sir.”

“May I offer my man’s services? He is very good.”

“I don’t know,” I looked at my mother. “Lawyers are pretty expensive.”

“Money is no problem. I’ll take care of that,” Mr. Carlesetti said.

“Not wanting to be a pain, sir, but what if my interests and Jean’s are different? Am I going to then lose my lawyer or find myself with thousands of dollars in legal bills?”

“Robert,” Mr. Carlesetti said looking at the lawyer. “You are Paul’s attorney until he gets one of his own.”

I looked at the lawyer, my eyes wide open in surprise.

“Mr. O’Dell,” he said quietly. “My name is Robert Smith and I will represent you without concern as to Miss. Carlesetti’s interests.”

I nodded and extended a hand to seal the deal.

“I like you Paul!” Mr. Carlesetti said. “Exactly the correct question to ask. I’ll state here, publicly, in front of witnesses, that no matter what, I’ll cover all of your legal expenses in this matter and Robert Meyers will represent you fully regardless of any issues with Jean.”

I looked at my mom who nodded while remaining quiet. She seemed more calm than me.

“Now then, Mr. O’Dell or Miss. Carlesetti please tell us what happened in the cafeteria.”

I looked at Jean and she silently pointed at me.

“This morning before homeroom, Jean asked to sit with me at lunch. I said she was welcome any time. At lunch, I arrived first and found a table. When she arrived, she joined me. I went to get a couple of glasses of milk and when I came back there were two guys sitting on either side of her and they had moved my lunch tray to a different table. I thought they looked old for high school, but then some of our football players look older.