Chapter 2: Coffee in the Gym

It was now nine in the morning. I reflected that on any normal day, I'd be back in the nude, having completed my usual victualling and banking expedition into town and now answering correspondence. Instead, I was still dressed, standing on the stage of the high school's gym, which doubled as an assembly hall. Well over 100 parents, plus assorted offspring, were in the gym partaking of that amazingly putrid and weak distillate that serves as "coffee" in school and church assemblies. The Board had elected to gather the Willow Lane Elementary School's parents, at least as many as could be found on a weekday morning, and let them know what kind of a week they were in for, and what kind of a school year they could expect.

Janet chickened out at the last minute, and asked me, a non Board member, to speak on her behalf. Nicklaus Slaight was chair, or emcee, or circus ringmaster, or whatever. He was thrilled that I volunteered to tell the throng that their wee ones would be spending the remainder of the school year in the buck, as he hoped to split for safer parts when the news registered ... safer places like Chernobyl.

As the parents gathered near the front, I intercepted Greg Foster, coach of the high school's football team. I gestured for his team to gather round. "It's possible that I'm going to need some assistance shortly. My news may cause some parents to want to shred me limb from limb."

One of the tackles sniggered. "Why, are they moving the kids' school to 'Cuda?"

I looked the prescient young man straight in the eye. "Right on one. See, Greg, your athletes are smarter than the school's science geeks give them credit for."

Grins began to spread among the team. "Ah, coach," asked Adam Winslow, the quarterback, "can we discuss the high school's dress code?"

"Sure, discuss it to your heart's content," Greg assured him. "Just don't expect the conversation to actually result in any changes."

"Is this nude school your idea?" one of the blockers asked.

"Actually, the suggestion was made by someone who doesn't happen to be here right now. By the way, I notice that not one of the School Board members happens to be here right now, especially the Chair." They were bright enough to put two plus two together. The grins became wider.

Unnoticed by the largely adult female crowd at the fore end of the gym, Greg's NFL hopefuls arranged themselves along the walls nearest to the stage, ready to respond if anyone became physical. I wondered how they could be so unnoticed, what with all the testosterone they were generating.

After a few words, Principal Slaight came to his next speaker. "Mr. Paul Jackman is someone many of you already know. His daughter Victoria is a student here in Miss Sanchez's Grade 6 class, and it is thanks to his generous offer that we managed to avoid financially ruinous fines that the State Educational Oversight Committee would have gleefully imposed for failure to have a proper life safety swimming program."

Murmurs of both gratitude and concern rang round the room. Most did not need to be hit by a clue-by-four to get the hint that I was the guy running the naturist resort, Manatee Bay's biggest money earner and commercial property tax payer ... and one of its largest private employers.

I hopped up to the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you. Janet Brooks sends her regrets, but the details in pulling another school out of her hat have her a tad busy this morning. She asked me to convey her gratitude for your patience, and appreciation for the needs of your children that have brought you out here on a weekday, when many of you also have jobs that need your attention as well. Most importantly, we need to settle the plans for our children's education, at least for the remainder of this year."

That last sentence got their attention.

"First, yes, we have 'A Cunning Plan' for the immediate future. We had an ad-hoc group meeting from early this morning, before the flames had been defeated by our gallant firefighters. If some of our planning sounds off the cuff, that's why.

"For today, as you noticed, school is not in session for the Willow Lane students. This afternoon, the Grade Four through Six classes are scheduled to have their regular swim classes this week. I propose we continue with that, it will leave them with some sense of normality."

The heads all nodded at that.

"Very well. The class usually leaves at about eleven-thirty, I believe?" Nicklaus nodded from the sidelines. "Then at 11:30, the Grade Four through Six students will leave on their usual buses to Barracuda Beach in their weekly class in How To Not Drown." A few of the parents snickered. "The buses are coming here, so those of you whose kids already have their towels with them, might as well stick around. At least they don't have to worry about swimsuits, they already are wearing that under their clothes."

I then grimaced. "Now, about the school itself. The fire department and the local safety engineers assure your Board and myself that the grounds will be in no condition to safely host children, even to play in what used to be grassy field, for quite some time. The cinders and other debris make the playground patently unsafe without months of rehabilitation, and as for the remaining structural integrity of the building – only one wall is still standing, and it has to come down before traffic is allowed to proceed along Willow Lane or Columbia Avenue."

Some of the parents gulped at that. They had been unaware as to how thoroughly the fire had destroyed the school.

"Now, the other elementary schools are more than a little packed at the moment, so we need to get a replacement elementary school built, pronto. Fortunately, King County's Board was assigned as this region's central facility for the Emergency Modular School. It is sending us all the bits and pieces to assemble one school suitable in size for our roster of students – they called before the embers were cool. The new school just needs a large enough space to stay. It can be in operation by Monday morning."

Parents were relieved ... until someone asked, "So where can we find a suitable sized field for this?" I was still the Big Bad Ogre who "forced" their children to go skinny-dipping, although so far nobody had withdrawn their kid from the program.

Off to the side stood Chuck Malone. He was on the Relocation Committee that had been trying to find new digs for the Willow Lane school. He chuckled, "Well, we looked at that nice large patch of ground behind the..." A stunned look crossed his face as the cluebat struck. "Um, we never told you about that. Thought it might give you ideas."

"It gave your board ideas," I informed him darkly. "I only found out about these 'ideas' about five this morning. Do you prefer to tell your fellow parents what 'ideas' you had, or should I?"

He gestured at me. Such a kindly, generous man, letting me be lynched instead of him...

I rolled my eyes and took a breath. "OK, the Board begged me to make them an offer they couldn't refuse. Actually, I probably could have made a fortune, but it would have come from my pocket anyway." I told them the deal. The dollar-a-year land rent. The use of the Resort's playground equipment. The free day passes for teaching staff and their families. And I confirmed the design of the new school uniform for not only students but teachers and principal as well, a old tried-and-true but still stylish model that the older kids were currently using as swimsuits a half day a week.