Relative Danger (13 page)

I didn’t know that, or whether Kat showed up today, but students were smiling at me. Mrs. Little quit talking. Now class should start. I stared at young adults—they at me. One young man wore facial hair cut in the slimmest beard that circled his chin and ran up to his earlobes. A hand shot up. “Yes?” I said.

An adorable boy spoke. “Miss Fleet said to tell you her roll book is in that top drawer.”

“Thank you, Mr.…”

“Cody Steward. Our names are on those seating charts.”

Oh, the charts
. I opened the subfolder to first period. “I’m Mrs. Gunther, and I’ll be taking your teacher’s place today. Would you please answer the roll? Cindy Adams,” I called.

“Here.” A girl lifted her hand and lowered it.

“Cathy Adler,” I said.

“Present.” Cathy’s fingers slid up and down.

“Chad…Cherish…Charity.” I was reciting a litany of C’s. “Rodney,” I said, grinning. “Ah, Rodney.”

“Right here.” A dark-skinned boy with a friendly smile raised his hand. I nodded, realizing I also smiled. I couldn’t help it, but wasn’t worried. If a killer was at this school, he or she wasn’t in this classroom. “Would you like me to pass out the worksheets?” Rodney asked.

He did, and with little noise, students began working. John Winston took out an ink pen. He’d worn his hair longer in the picture on Cynthia Petre’s desk. Halfway during the period, all heads were still upright. No one snored. These kids didn’t even look tired. Most took their time, pondering the worksheet questions. John Winston’s eyes scanned words quickly before he penned answers. He looked like the all-American boy, much too pleasant to have made up that lie about Miss Hernandez to worry Kat.

So Marisa Hernandez had not been arrested yesterday. She was here today. But she was with the police. Of course they’d been questioning lots of people.

I wandered down aisles and stopped beside John. He glanced up, and I pointed to his answers. “Those look good.”

“Thanks. Do you know how to work these problems?”

“Sorry, I didn’t take chemistry.”

“Lucky you.” He waited until I moved on before he wrote more.

Students set their completed worksheets in a tray on an old credenza. They returned to their desks and read. No one seemed worried about my age or their naptime, and I adjusted to the sulfur smell. Wondered why a detective had Miss Hernandez. Why someone had told Kat that she’d been arrested. I trotted back to John Winston’s desk. Leaning close, I spoke softly. “Kat’s my grandchild.” He didn’t look surprised, so I continued. “Yesterday Kat received a note in a class about Miss Hernandez.”

John made no change of expression. “So?” he said in a quiet voice.

“You were in that room. Did you happen to send her the note?”

John’s demeanor altered. His aqua-blue eyes narrowed. “I don’t pass notes in classes!” His voice carried enough to make nearby kids stare at him and me. “Did Kat tell you I sent her one?” John asked.

I shook my head. “She doesn’t know who wrote the note.”

“It sure wasn’t me.”

During the rest of the period, John’s shoulders kept a rigid set. He didn’t write on his worksheet. Irritation built on his face. Class ended with a bell, and teens waited to be dismissed. They left in orderly fashion. Most told me goodbye, they hoped I’d come back. John stared straight ahead and said nothing. Tension in my neck told me that maybe I shouldn’t have said anything to him about Kat.

Rowdy kids roared toward me, not giving me time to contemplate. I stood firm, getting ready for them. They turned into other doorways, and smiling youths approached mine. Where were my hoodlums?

I spied Sledge. He stopped, dead center in the hall, and nailed me with his glare. I planted my feet on the floor and my fists on my hips. Sledge growled a low mutter. He shifted into another room.

The fear that had sprung to my chest fluttered away, and I found my second class well behaved. So were those in the next period, which zoomed by. All of the teens seemed normal, like Kat. “What happened?” I asked after another bell, when I stepped across to Abby’s room. “Did somebody ship off the students I had yesterday and ship in a new friendlier batch?”

She didn’t look up from the papers on her desk. “Today you have mainly honor students. Most of them are in the band.”

I immediately liked the band. And looked forward to my next classes. Kat had never played anything but her stereo, but she was taking honors classes. I couldn’t recall whether she’d scheduled chemistry. Returning to my room, I sat. Abby’s voice came from the corridor. “Thank goodness for lunch break.”

“Lunch break. When is that?”

“Now.”

I sprinted through the hall past Abby. “Where’s duty five?” I asked over my shoulder.

“Down the main corridor and out the front door.”

I smelled pizza. “One more thing. When do teachers on duty eat lunch?”

“We bring a sandwich. You have to eat while you’re out there.”

My stomach grumbled almost as much as the students who began filling the halls. I went past them into the yard, and wind pressed my skirt into a mold of my lower body. I tugged the fabric loose. Breezes had swept off the earlier humidity and left behind sweet cool air. No students were out yet. They’d gone for lunch, I decided, dropping to a bench and wishing they would bring me some.

I was pleased to see tiny red flowers growing in a small rectangle of grass, contrasting with the surrounding concrete slabs. Students might find slivers of nature here if they looked hard enough, and the unhappy teenagers might calm down. The sidewalk before me seemed to lead to outdoor classrooms. Parked in front of them were sedans, newer model trucks, and SUVs, surely belonging to teachers. I moved closer and saw doors numbered 1, 2, 3. The 3 stopped me from looking at more. Today was the third, Gil’s birthday.

Musing made me smile. We’d held hands often, and each of us touched the other’s back when we walked by. We’d made love and then fed each other Gil’s fresh-baked cookies, the chocolate chips melting on our fingers. One time Gil smeared the moist chocolate down my breasts. We laughed afterward because he couldn’t let all that good chocolate go to waste.

I scowled, thrusting away those mental pictures. They had come from the past. They made me lonely. And hungry. Gil’s smile jumped back into view. How would he like receiving my gift today?

Male students with deep voices came out the front doors, followed by girls with giddy laughter, and I was glad they’d stopped my unproductive thoughts. Until I saw Roxy. She was describing someone, loudly using creative expletives. I stopped her by saying, “Hello, Roxy.”

A girl near her muttered a curse. The girl scurried back inside, shoving something into her purse. She probably wanted to smoke, but because I stood guard here, she might now try it in the girls’ restroom.

Roxy did an about-face and reached for the door handle. “Have you seen Kat today?” I asked before she vanished. Roxy shook her head and yanked on the door. I touched her shoulder. “Do you have any classes with her?”

“I don’t talk about nerds,” she spat.

“Oh.” I slipped my hand off her arm. “I didn’t know Kat was a…well, I should have figured.”

Roxy let the door go. She turned to me, her navy eyes not quite so harsh. “Kat’s not that bad. I mean, she is a nerd and all. But she’s not like the rest of them.”

I smiled. Here was a kid with edges. Roxy seemed hard to the core, but she probably wasn’t. “You seem to like her.”

“Kat’s all right. Yeah, she’s okay.” Roxy appeared to have forgotten her mission, probably of smoking. Maybe pot. Blankly, she stared out at the red flowers.

“Aren’t they pretty?” I asked.

She didn’t reward me with another response. Roxy gazed at the parking lot, the wind blowing her stringy hair, revealing a thick brown scar along her neckline. From a recent knife fight? I shuddered, thinking of what this child could have done to Kat.

A crinkling sounded as Roxy drew a bag of Cheetos out of a small purse. She yanked the bag open, tossed golden puffs into her mouth, and crunched, making my mouth water. “Want some?” she said.

“Just a couple.” I grabbed four.

“Catch a few more.” Roxy widened the bag and made my belly very happy. She sent the empty bag flying to a plastic barrel, brushed crumbs off her fingers, and grabbed the door handle. “You don’t know much about schools, do you?” she asked.

“It’s been awhile.”

She grinned. “You’re short, you know that?”

“Vertically challenged,” I said.

Roxy laughed. She spun around to face me. “You’re pretty cool, just like Kat.”

Again I was cool. So was my grandchild. “Roxy, is Kat here today?”

“Don’t know. I didn’t see her.”

Disappointment dropped in. But since I was cool, maybe Roxy would tell me other things. “I heard you talking about the custodian this morning,” I said.

“Yeah, the dead guy.”

“I saw policemen here. They’re still checking out the accident?”

“Accident, ha! Somebody killed the dude.”

I moved closer. Her harsh eyes stopped me, and I took a step back. “Who would have done such a thing?”

She gave me an incredulous stare. “Haven’t you seen all the punks around here?”

“You think a student could have murdered someone?”

“Just like that.” Roxy snapped blunt fingers. “Or a teacher.”

My chest sank. Yesterday I’d told myself someone here could have killed, but I hadn’t really believed it. Not here. Not a student or teacher near my precious Katherine.

“The cops keep on asking us, ‘Who’d you see? Where were you when it happened? Right before that? Then afterward?’” Roxy stared at me. “Man, you’d think this was the great inquisition.”

I was pleased that she knew such a word. “They’re asking all the students?”

“Some of us, some people in the office. Teachers.” With a grim face, she peered at the flowers as though needing something positive to hold onto. “I gotta go.”

“Roxy, are there any teachers that you believe could have done it?”

I watched the rear of her head, mentally begging her not to say Miss Hernandez.

“Have you checked out Ms. Jeansonne?”

“Abby Jeansonne?”

“And while you’re at it, we have a really mean coach.” Roxy vacuumed herself through the door with a grim warning, “I didn’t say nothing.”

The flowers faded as I stared out at them. Maybe my mind was painting a less-than-lovely scene. Abby, my friendly neighbor with bangs. Did she keep them long to hide her eyes so they wouldn’t reveal a deadly nature? She’d wanted to make certain I knew about a murder here. I knew some killers wanted lots of recognition. And a school this size must have many coaches. But the one who appeared ready to thrash people stood out in my mind. Of the faculty members Roxy mentioned, I’d give my vote to Coach Millet.

A few students milled outside. I wandered around them, hoping to hear snatches of conversation. If Roxy knew something, surely other kids did, too. I peered at flowers the wind shook and pretended to ignore students, my hearing cranked to high gear. I glanced at the door in case Kat came out. The teens all drifted back inside, and I was left alone. Disappointed not to learn anything new, I was pleased a moment later when the bell rang.

I scuttled inside the building. Some students rushed, while others lounged around, stalling. Most moved to other halls so that the central corridor became maneuverable. An extra-tall, slender woman with blond hair and a shapely denim dress walked a distance ahead of me. “Hi, Miss Hernandez,” I called, trotting to catch up. She didn’t glance back, so I yelled, “Miss Hernandez. Marisa.”

Neither name brought a response. I paused to ask a nearby student, “That is Miss Hernandez, isn’t it?” I pointed ahead and saw the woman turn. I had never seen her before.

The boy that I’d asked continued to stare at his arm, where I had just tapped. His face rose toward mine.
Sledge
. Total hatred formed his grimace. “Don’t touch me,” he snarled.

My eyes widened. “Did that hurt you?” I tapped him again.

Sledge smoldered. He hissed, and his big shoulders spread even wider. In that moment, I knew: This boy-man could knock me to the ground and pummel me until I was dead.

My mouth zapped dry. I took steps away, praying Sledge wouldn’t follow. He might be carrying a weapon, and I was certain he could use it. I turned the corner and reached a corridor filled with people. At least if Sledge stalked me here, I might find help.

My glance at surrounding students revealed many that I’d had in yesterday’s classes. I doubted whether any of them would come to my aid. A detective emerged from a room, and I breathed easier. The unhappy youth with him was Sledge’s buddy who had said I mustn’t have heard about what happened between Sledge and the dead man. The young muscular cop scanned the hall. His gaze stopped at Sledge, now leaning against a wall near me, his mean gaze fixing on the cop. The detective wagged a finger to call Sledge, who unglued his back from the wall and followed.

I surmised that they had probably called Sledge’s friend in for questioning because of what I’d told the administrators. And now they would question Sledge. Great. Teenagers closed in around Sledge’s friend, and I slowed down to listen.

“Those damn cops,” the boy said. “We all know who’s got keys to get back in this place.”

My steps faltered. The sole of my shoe squeaked, and the teens all rolled their heads toward me. They muttered and scattered. I strode to the science hall, considering what I’d gathered thus far today. Anne Little had dubbed herself keeper of the school keys, but today Cynthia Petre had given me my keys. John Winston said he didn’t start the rumor that worried Kat, but had he lied? Now that I’d witnessed his anger, I could more easily imagine him as someone who would. The idea of Sledge shoving a person over a balcony rail became conceivable. He would be strong enough. And he could’ve been here after school hours—almost anyone could have stayed and hidden, it seemed to me, without other persons knowing.

I spied a woman coming to the science hall and wondered where she was heading because I couldn’t imagine anyone going to teach looking like that. She was a runt of a person with orange-red hair teased up like an Afro, although she was Caucasian. Her hairdo, even back in the seventies, would’ve been too extreme. Her face appeared flushed, as though she’d just run a marathon. A suspicious-looking creature if I ever saw one.