The Sacrificial Daughter (27 page)

"Now it's my turn," Mr. Irving announced. "Your column on the left is bare of a few items. You haven't taken into account interest on your loans..."

"I..."

"Don't interrupt. I sat here and listened in silence to your diatribe and now I expect the same politeness from you," Mr. Irving said, sounding as if Jesse had attacked him personally. "You haven't taken into account, rent, utilities, insurance..."

He went on for some time, ticking off the minutia involved in running a business. After a minute he lost the class's attention and Jesse found herself staring at Ky.

"So you see that two-hundred and twenty five is not even close to being accurate," he said as a way of finishing.

"All those little details," Jesse said in response, turning back to the teacher. "I actually factored in under the initial investment of a million dollars. I didn't want to bore the class with lots of little details. But you did bring up even more points that we could discuss. You mentioned energy and fuel costs, those would be much cheaper under Supply-side..."

"I think we have taken up enough time on this discussion," Mr. Irving announced interrupting Jesse. "I don't see it going anywhere. Now if you could present to the class a real world example rather than a fictitious company that you've created simply to showcase the wonders of Supply-side, maybe we would be able to debate that, but since it doesn't exist let's get back to chapter fourteen."

"I do have an example," Jesse said. "A real world one."

The class had been all-aflutter with the sound of books being opened to chapter fourteen, but now they stopped as Mr. Irving looked at Jesse with a mixture of disbelief and loathing. The eyes of the students flicked back and forth between the two...a teacher/student confrontation was always the most fascinating event of the school year and Jesse already had a reputation for putting on a show.

Jesse didn't want a confrontation really, she just didn't want to be dismissed so easily out of hand. Her discussion on economics was like none she'd ever had before. When she had hopped up to discuss her lemonade stand, it was with only a vague notion as to where the debate would lead to. It had been exhilarating. Thoughts had come to her almost as fast as she could speak them and it felt good to be able stand her ground against an adult.

Remember the ball! Don't say anything stupid. Don't blow it.

It was the voice of reason, but also the voice of a chicken. "You asked for a real world example," she reminded her teacher.

"Maybe you should put it the form of an essay," Mr. Irving suggested.

Jesse refused to budge. She neither said yes or no. She only stared evenly into his face. The idea of an essay didn't upset her. What did however, was the fact that if she did write it, he wouldn't bother to read it.

After a few moments he gave her a strained smile, "Fine, I'll indulge you. But be warned my patience is wearing thin."

"I'll be quick," Jesse promised. She opened her book bag and snatched out her thick history textbook. Laying back the cover, she exposed the map of the world which she presented to the class. "Right here...so small you can't even see it is Hong Kong. It's just a tiny little island and it's crammed with buildings and people like you can't believe. I went there two years ago with my parents and it was a real eye-opener."

Her father had been there trying to find companies that would relocate to the states, while her mom had shopped. Jesse had accompanied both during the week and had learned much...from her father.

"Even though it's so thickly populated and has next to nothing when it comes to raw materials...I mean there's no coal, or oil, or even trees...it's one of the richest cities in the world. Why...because it's also one of the freest cities in the world. They have really low tax rates and almost no regulations, other than ones keeping people safe. This is the most perfect example of pure Supply-side economics in action that I can think of. And right next to it is China. It's Keynesian at its purest. They have every resource imaginable, but the government dictates everything and the people are dirt poor. It's a slave economy."

Jesse paused to catch her breath. She had been worried that if she had taken even a moment, Mr. Irving would have stepped in.

"That was wonderful, thanks," Mr. Irving said. "Now, chapter fourteen everyone."

That was it?

Jesse didn't know what to think about this. She had expectations of another argument, yet the teacher just went right into his regularly scheduled pre-planned class. Did that mean she had won the debate? She had refuted, and easily so, the premises of his economic thought, while he hadn't touched hers with anything resembling logic. That sounded like a win to her, so why wasn't he acknowledging it?

She'd been expecting:
Those are interesting points; I should take them into consideration
. Or better yet:
You've really put that into perspective, thanks.

Jesse stewed on this for the rest of class. Her mind ran over every detail of their debate and came up with even more points to buttress her arguments. Yet she had the feeling that she would be wasting her time if she brought them up. Mr. Irving seemed content in his philosophy despite the fact that she had clearly shown him how wrong it was.

What did that mean? Was Keynesian economics his religion? Was he basing his ideas on faith rather than facts?

Maybe you're the one that's wrong?

That was definitely a possibility. She wasn't omniscient after all. Unobtrusively as possible, she flipped her book open to—Chapter 2
Keynes and You!
—and read for the remainder of the period. When the bell rang, she wasn't any closer to understanding why he would think it would work as a major philosophy. Her mind twirled and she just had to give up trying to figure out Mr. Irving's rationale.

At least you weren't sent to the principal's office
. There was that.

The sight of Ky helped to clear her head. He walked out of the room and she stepped out right behind him. With him clearing the way and people doing their best not to look in his direction, she felt protected being so close to him. It was like he was her own personal bodyguard.

"Room 235 please," she whispered, so that he alone would hear. Involuntarily, his shoulders jumped when she said it. He then went taunt as steel cable and Jesse had to remind herself that Ky had issues. Out of deference to him she kept quiet the rest of the way down the hall.

Jesse didn't immediately turn into her classroom as she came up to it. She was curious. Amanda Jorgenson had been absent from fifth period and with a quick peek into the room next door Jesse discovered that she was gone from seventh as well. It brought a wide smile to her lips. Maybe the girl had been suspended.

Sudden movement to her side startled her. A blur of black leather and blue jeans, came at her. Jesse dodged back, not quite so fast as she needed to be and someone clipped her shoulder hard enough to spin her halfway around.

"Sorry bout that," drawled out John Osterman. He had come out of nowhere and if he had hit her square, he might have sent her face first into the nearest locker. "You should watch where I'm going. If you know what I mean."

"Right," Jesse said and nothing more. Nor did she move. Ronny was on one side of her and John the other. To move meant putting her back to one of them. They advanced wearing goofy grins and she had to wonder if they had been smoking something. But then she smelled the sour odor of cheap beer on their breath. It made her stomach go squirrely, though it was mostly out of nerves. Drunk boys were apt to do anything, even in a crowded hall.

Just then a teacher, an older woman with brassy red hair, that Jesse had only seen on one other occasion poked her head out of her classroom door and barked, "Ronny! John! Get to class." When they didn't immediately leave, she raised her voice louder. "I said leave!"

"Sure thang," John said and spun on the spot. He misjudged his twirl and knocked into his friend which set them both to giggling. Jesse watched them go and didn't move even after the bell rang a second later. They had put a good scare into her and she was afraid that wasn't all they were going to do.

"Excuse me, Miss Clarke?"

Just then Jesse realized the woman was still there. "Y-Yes...Ma'am?" Jesse stuttered still frazzled.

"I need you to do me a favor," she said with a tight smile on her lips. "I need you to cut this 'Bad-Girl' attitude out or don't come back to school...for a few days." The woman nodded her brassy head as she spoke. Her mottled blue eyes fixed on Jesse's. "Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"Am I in danger?"

Pain swept the woman's face. "Good, I'm glad we understand each other." She turned and left, shutting her classroom door on Jesse's puzzled look.

A cold chill swept up Jesse's back as she stood in the empty hall. She
was
in danger and not just from the petty bickering of Amanda and her friends. It was the second time that day, she'd been warned by a teacher...what did they know? Had they overheard the other students talking?

"Miss Clarke?" The sudden sharp sound of her name stopped her heart and Jesse jumped a foot in the air. It was Mr. Johnson sticking his head out into the hall. "Should I mark you as absent today? Or are you going to bless us with your presence?"

"Oh...yes. I'm coming," Jesse said and took two steps toward the door, but then stopped. "Can I speak with you? Here?"

"No of course not. I have twenty-two other students waiting on me. If you wish to speak with me do so after class."

"Yes, Sir," Jesse replied, scampering past him and heading for her desk. Immediately her fingers slipped into the word that was carved out on the flat plane of the wood:
ALONE
.

That she definitely was.

The class was full of students and Mr. Johnsons bowling pin shaped body took up a lot of room, but despite that, Jesse felt isolated. It was if she were thirty feet away from everyone else and under a spotlight, with fingers being pointed at her from every direction. Was there a plot to sic the Shadow-man on her? If so, how? There was no way to know. Again her stomach went queasy as her nerves kicked up a fuss.

Settle down. You're not his type.

Right...maybe...who knows? If she only knew what his type was it would be far easier to settle down.

Jesse traced the outline of the carved word almost in a trance and it was sometime before she noticed that someone had erased the light pencil marks she had drawn on the desk. The note!

She had plum forgotten about the note she had left Ky two days before. Too casually, she slipped her hand into the slot of her desk while pretending to listen to Mr. Johnson, yet there was nothing in the desk at all. She even stuck her hand as far back as possible and searched the darkest corners of the cubby. Nothing.

Grasping at straws, she then searched the underside of her chair. Again nothing. She slumped back defeated and dispirited. Ky hadn't written in return and who knows if even read her note in the first place. On its own, her hand went back to the carved word, yet her eyes were drawn to the initials:

S.B.

G.M.J.

J.O.

R. M.- K. M.- N.M.-?

M.C

What were these? Victims of Harold Brownly's?

Probably. The first initials S.B. corresponded with what her father had mentioned about Harold, how he had killed his own son. Scott Brownly? Steve Brownly? Sam, Shawn, Seth...just then, to Jesse it didn't matter the boy's first name.

The last set of initials M.C. had to be Mary Castaneda, the girl who'd been found in the cemetery. The thought of her set a pang of regret through Jesse. It must have been a rough year for her mother, and Jesse had gone and made it just that much worse.

But who were the rest? G.M.J. was likely Gregory Matthew Johnson, the boy whose picture sat on the desk in the front of the room. His year of death matched as well. The rest were just a mystery, especially the three:
R. M.- K. M.- N.M.-?

Did this mean that it wasn't known if they had been killed by Harold or not? Again unknown. Her eyes wouldn't come off the letters K.M.— Kyle Mendel. Her mind kept filling in his name, which was stupid since although he ghosted around the school, he was still very much alive. But for how much longer? Unknown.

In a zone, she traced the letters, listening to Mr. Johnson teach until later the bell rang.

That was her day in a nutshell. Waiting on bells, waiting on Ky, waiting to see what would happen to her. Waiting, like everyone else in the town, to see who would die next. Why they still lived in Ashton, she didn't know. Or why they didn't gather together and string Harold up by the neck, she didn't know that either. She only knew that the waiting was starting to get to her. It was like an expanding hunk of cold lead in her chest and when she thought about it too much, it made it hard to breathe.

As the other students filed out of the class, Jesse waited for a chance to be alone with Mr. Johnson so she could ask him about the vague warning that she had received. She fiddled about in her bag as if looking for something, but when she glanced up next, he was gone.

"No!" she exclaimed, and then ran to the door. The hall was filled with nothing but students, half of whom stared at her as if she were an insect. Not only had she lost the chance to talk to her teacher, when Jesse looked into the room next door, Ky was gone as well. Now she'd have to brave the corridors without his protection. This wasn't really a problem, she'd done it many times before, she just liked being so close to him.