Chapter 109: Something’s Gotta Give

Wednesday, April 11, 1984

Normally, when a student was out, there’s no need to check in at the office. Technically, there wasn’t a need for me to check in this time, either, but I did.

The secretary was surprised, but accepted my note from Mom, which offered the excuse of an urgent, unscheduled appointment yesterday.

She was more surprised when I asked her to take a message for Principal Riggs, and practically nonplussed when that message was a request for him to call me out of second period. I had PE then, and the coaches would hardly miss me. God knows that, if first-life Steve had passed with full credit (and he did, bless his heart), this me had no problem on that front.

The morning announcements reminded me that the trip to the Capitol was this Friday. Friday the 13th — how appropriate!

I was pretty sure going would be a bad idea. Elizabeth could, in theory, handle everything, but I felt that I needed to stay.

I could play it by ear for two more days, though. Perhaps things would change. But, most likely, I was going to miss the Senior trip to the Capitol twice! What were the odds on that?

Once out of the office, my first goal was to find Mel. Fortunately, I found her before first period.

“How is she? Where is she? It’s ... is...”

“She’s fine, Mel. She’s in a hotel, she’s safe, she’s got clothes and food and whatever else. And school stuff.”

Mel hugged me, I think almost as much to keep from falling over as anything else.

“Thank God!”

“I can’t tell you where she is, because technically I don’t know...”

“Which means...”

I smiled. “Which means that technically I don’t know, and Cammie’s lawyer...”

“She has a lawyer?”

“She has a lawyer.”

Mel blushed, then smiled. “Sorry. You were saying?”

“Cammie’s lawyer advises me to stick resolutely to not knowing. Also, that means you don’t know, and you know that I don’t know. Those are very good answers if someone asks you questions that might be ... uncomfortable.”

“Um ... you ... have a very good point there! She’s really okay?”

“She’s really okay. Plans are in progress to make sure she stays okay. Are you okay?”

“I’m a lot better than I was two minutes ago! All I had was Angie reporting that she was safe — which was a lot, let me tell you! — but that’s all. Knowing she’s got a lawyer and is in a hotel and is just... away from them! ... that’s huge!”

“How are things at home?”

“Mom’s being an idiot and Dad’s being worse, but even if I wasn’t eighteen, I wouldn’t be getting shipped anywhere. Mark and Morty are grounded because they won’t throw me under the bus, though, and ... I mean ... who the hell knew they’d grow up and become really good people, right?”

“I had hopes. So did Emily, I’m sure.”

She giggled. “Emily bit off a lot. Well, not literally, I’m sure, since they’re still with her.”

She paused just a second, then said, “God, it feels good to laugh! I’ve been ... just ... since that phone call...”

She sighed, then continued, saying, “The phone rang, and Dad got it. Then he looked at me, and his face went white. Then it went red. I knew. There was only one thing it could be. He was yelling at me the instant he got off the phone. I tried to run off to help Cammie but, of course, I couldn’t.”

“Mel, she got lucky. I can’t tell you the whole thing, but it’s ... she got lucky. I would have private detectives tearing East Texas apart if I had to, but...”

“But you don’t have to, and thank God for that! Two fucking weeks!”

Ms. Wolkowski, who was passing us coming from behind Mel, said, “Language!”

“Sorry, Ms. Wolkowski,” Mel said.

“Don’t let it happen again,” she said, then headed on down the hall.

“We need to run or we’ll be late,” Mel said.

“Yeah. I’ll give you as much of an update as I can, as soon as I’m allowed to.”

“As for our being grounded,” she said, then shrugged. “I don’t know how long it’ll last. They know we’re eighteen, but we have to follow their rules while we’re at home.”

“Makes sense. The thing is, they’ll be your parents forever. This won’t be anywhere near forever.”

“That helps, I think. Thanks, Steve,” Mel said, then hugged me, tightly. “Love you!”

“Love you, Mel.”

She scooted off to class, and so did I.

My note from the office appeared right on schedule, before I could even change for PE. That was fortunate.

I just took my backpack and headed to the office. However long the meeting took, it didn’t make a lot of sense to come back to PE.

When I got to the office, Principal Riggs was seated at his desk. He rose when I came in, motioning for me to close the door. We shook hands, then sat.

“I’m assuming this is about Cammie Clarke,” he said.

I nodded. “It seemed like a good idea to meet with you.”

“First of all, this is completely off the record. I’m not supposed to discuss other students the way we’re going to, though ... well, my second point will explain why I think I can in this case.”

“Understood. Completely off the record.”

“Second, I talked to an Elizabeth Crawford earlier this morning. Impressive woman. Your doing?”

I smiled. “It’s got my fingerprints all over it.”

“We haven’t received any requests to unenroll Miss Clarke as of yet. Technically, if we were to get one, we do have to honor it...”

I just nodded.

“But, we can slow-roll it, and make sure that perhaps it takes two weeks to process.”

He gave me a bit of a grin, which I returned.

“And she can reenroll herself?”

“The rules are ... well, to be honest, they’re unclear, which works to our advantage here. Technically, according to state law, we have to get permission from her parents for anything like field trips, or even nurse visits, until she’s out of the house, but I gather she will be out of the house permanently.”

“It seems likely.”

“It’s a gray area. Nothing says that we need parental permission to enroll someone who’s eighteen. I presume no one considered this situation coming up. Of course, students are enrolled by parents, right? That’s how it works. They could unenroll her, but she could reenroll herself, and we could ping-pong all the way to graduation, unless someone got a judge to say either they couldn’t or we couldn’t.”

I smiled. “Thanks for seeing it our way.”

He chuckled. “She’s one of our best and brightest. As are you, of course. Lose a National Merit Finalist with stellar grades and a great scholarship this close to graduation? One on several teachers’ award lists? Not if I can help it — and I can, it looks like.”

“And her assignments?”

“I’ve already sent notes to all of her teachers asking them to prepare daily packets for her. Ms. Crawford is going to pick them up — well, I believe a courier is going to pick them up — and they’ll be whisked off to wherever they need to go.”

I nodded. “Thanks!”

“That’s how we’d handle an absence like this any other time, and that’s what it is, right now.”

“Still, it’s definitely appreciated. Next question: can they pull her out of State?”

He frowned. “That’s a University Interscholastic League thing. Well, and a Texas Forensics Association thing, but they’ll defer to the UIL. If her parents think of that ... well, I can give the UIL a call and try to get them to verify that an eligible student remains eligible as long as we have them enrolled. They’re not going to understand what I’m asking, but if I get a ruling, we can run with that. Even if her parents unenroll her out of spite on her birthday, we can flip that back around within a day, and the UIL will have to deal with it. If I can’t get that, though, it’ll come down to whatever the people on the scene do. The UIL is one of my least favorite parts of this job.”

“Thanks for taking them on for Cammie.”

“Don’t mention it. I’d forgotten about the possibilities of them messing with State. Your other tournament ... um...”

“Tournament of Champions.”

“Yes, that. That one you should be fully in the clear on. Miss Clarke will have been an adult for almost a week, she’ll be a Memorial student, and she’ll have qualified the usual way. If they raise any issues, I’m pretty sure Ms. Ames will read them the riot act. She’d do that to the UIL, too, but the UIL can make her life, and my life, difficult in a thousand ways. They’re usually pretty reasonable if they make the mistake, though. Not that this will be a mistake, but they may act like it is, when push comes to shove.”

“Thanks again,” I said.

He smiled. “You and Miss Clarke have a solid chance of winning the whole thing — I mean State — or so I hear. State championships always make my bosses happy.”

“Works for me.”

He leaned forward a bit. “I’m in the dark here, honestly. Ms. Crawford was quite circumspect. This is obviously a major disagreement between Miss Clarke and her parents, and one where getting a lawyer in place and potentially taking legal action is warranted. Ms. Crawford did not strike me as a frivolous sort of person.”

I started to say something, but he waved his hand. “I’m not actually asking you to explain. If I needed to know, she’d have told me. What I do need to know is your honest impression. I know you’d back Cammie to the ends of the Earth and vice versa, but if I ask you straight-up if there’s wrong on both sides...”

I nodded. “In my firm opinion, and being fair to the Clarkes ... no, there’s not wrong on both sides. Nothing on Cammie’s end is wrong, in my opinion. This is a student and her parents having a philosophical disagreement, and her parents using their powers to try to force her to change her mind using any means necessary. That’s my honest take on it, and — as you said — off the record.”

He nodded. “Are we getting in the papers again?”

I chuckled. “Over this? I hope a seventeen-year-old and her parents having a knock-down drag-out fight, even using lawyers, isn’t press fodder, but who the hell knows? There are bigger fish to fry. Not saying it won’t, or that no one’s going to do something else that blows up...”

This time it was my turn to wave him off. I continued, saying, “I’m not saying I know of anything that’s in the works. In fact, I do not know of anything. But I’d have sat here last year and said that, even knowing that Lizzie and Janet attending Prom was at least a possibility. I didn’t think that would become the story it became, but ... heck, Principal Riggs, I don’t know. If it happens around me, I’ll do everything I can to make sure the press coverage turns out positive.”

“That’s about all I can ask for. It’s also what I’d have expected.”

He rose, so I did, too.

“Somehow I’m sure we’ll be meeting again before too long, but I’ll say right now that it’s been a distinct honor to have you as one of my students, Steve. You and the rest of that group of yours, most definitely including Angie. I’ve said it before, and I’m sure I’m hardly the only one — kids like you are one of the rewards of doing this job.”

“And, for my part, you’ve been, and remain, a terrific principal. Aside from wanting you to have a happy and well-deserved retirement before any kids of mine hit high school, I’d love for them to go to a school you were running. I’ll have to settle for hoping they get someone close to as good.”

He chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a student compliment me by referencing future children. Thanks! That really means a lot.”