Entry 4: Eavesdropping. A journalist's most valuable tool

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Sorry about the sudden cut off, but I had to start a new page.

Being I owned no computer, I spent most of my researching time in the library. I preferred the company of the librarians over my friends and on days when Jacks was burning incense, I definitely liked the smell of old books better.

The silence, however, was difficult to ignore. It created an atmosphere that any act of sound-making was an unforgivable offense. Every click of the mouse thundered. Every time I coughed, I fought to keep it perfectly muffled in my hands or I just choked it down like a decent human being that wasn't raised in a barn.

And yet, when something did disturb the peace, how could it not stick out?

A girl said, "I'm not going down for this."

Just the phrasing was so sweet, it gave me a cavity. My ear must have grown ten sizes bigger, but not enough. I was snug in one of the sad excuses of a rolling chair. One good thing, however, was that the chairs could lean all the way back like lawn chairs and the more coordinated individuals could take naps here during their breaks. Yes, people not like me. Struggling, I threw my body back, scootching closer to the using-zombies-as-a-metaphor-for-society-section of the library behind me. I peered between the spines and metal bookends, catching a few details like ponytails and jerseys. These were jocks.

"They're going to blame me," the first girl said. I recognized her immediately.

Profile: Barrett Parker

Centre Forward.

Typically stands while she raises her hand in class.

Kicked me out of the LGBTQ+ club for accusing the treasurer of embezzling funds.

The accused.


Her friend, Norah sighed, "No, they're not."


Profile: Norah Khan

The Winger.

Could fit in my pocket.

Mom friend.


"They will," Barrett insisted, her voice hot and full of spit. Funny when people try whispering when they're angry, they just get louder. "Just because of that passive aggressive witch, Chelsea who holds a grudge longer than my mother can and that's saying something."

"Well..." Norah chose her words carefully. "You did break her nose."

"On-" Barrett started, but started again, realizing she was about to start shouting. "On the field! During a game!"

"It's still bent."

"You're supposed to be on my side!"

Finally, my curiosity could not be contained. I had to introduce myself to the conversation. I walked around the corner and raised my hand, "Excuse me?"

I was met with a frown from Barrett and a raised brow from Norah. Clearly, my popularity dwindled after my falling out with the illustrious "Mickey" Holly. I didn't blame them. I was the one who picked a fight with their God. Already reaching for it, I was itching for my notebook. 

And even though they knew me, I introduced myself, "Hello, it's Ben Turney, can I cut in? I couldn't help but overhear your conversation and I'd like to express my concern."

Norah said something like "pareshaan karane se roken", which I believed translates roughly to me needing to keep my nose out of other people's business. Writing and speaking Hindi was not one of my strong suits and my mother reminded me of that every time I called her, which was daily. If not daily, she'd send a black hawk helicopter to check in on me. I know because she has done it before. She denied it, but I know.

I decided not to reply in Hindi to avoid more mockery and just asked Barrett, "What are you going to be blamed for?"

Barrett eyed Norah and in their own silent conversation discussed every pro and con of using the help or the star reporter at the Atlas Academy Gazette, but also using the help of the pariah of the entire Senior class. They said nothing but everything in seconds, with only a look and I was impressed. Obviously, that was why the soccer team was such a powerful unit this year. They spent the summer in Area 51, learning the art of telepathy.

Still, the odds were in my favor. Barrett said, "someone stole all the penalty flags."

"The repercussions?" I asked. For every action, there was a reaction.

"I don't know," Barrett threw her hands up. "Expulsion from the team! From school! Hannah will break up with me!"

"Let's tone down the dramatics," I suggested and received a very rude snort from Norah right in my face. I ignored her and continued. "We'll focus on the facts for now. When did you realize the penalty flags were missing?"

"This morning."

"How many people know this?"

"Just us-"

Norah interjected, "For now. The team practices right after last period. They'll all figure it out pretty fast."

"Lots of penalties on the field then?" I mumbled, scribbling down the information. I noticed Barrett's knuckles whiten when Norah grabbed her elbow and brought her closer. Briefly, I thought about the consequences of dropping Barrett in a china shop and seeing her bill rise. Then, the bell rang and my free period was over. The bell tugged something in the back of my brain, something I was supposed to remember about my next period. Something important.

It hit me and I couldn't help but groan. Panicked, I showed all my junk into my bag as I assured the girls. "Don't worry. I'm on the case. You'll have your flags back in no time."

"Our hero," Norah sighed, but I'm the bigger person so I didn't retract my promise to help. That was what real superheroes did. They helped everyone, even if some people in the crowd were complete assholes. The one asshole would not ruin it for the rest of the world.

What I almost forgot was my guidance counselor meeting, which I would like to mention that Mickey did not have to attend one. I had attempted to arrive early as a sign that my extra-curricular activities were not impairing my ability to be on time. The faster I could prove to Woodward that I was normal, the faster I could go back to doing a background check on the Holly family.

The women at the front desk seemed to be out, not that it was a problem. We only had two counselors, Mrs. Fair, and Mr. Woodward and as long as I didn't walk into the room with framed cat pictures, I knew I was in the right place. I walked up to his door, thinking a knock was in order when an enraged shout stunned me in place.

"You are blinded, Woodward!"

I immediately took out my smaller notepad and jotted everything they said down. I'm now transcribing it in clearer terms. I could recognize both voices easily, one being Mr. Woodward and the other belonged to Headmaster Deville.

"Please," Woodward sighed, "Let's not yell."

"I will if I want to! I think this is what you deserve, you idiotic little rat! How dare you go behind my back like this! After everything I've done!" There was a slam, followed by a light noise and I could only imagine Deville slamming his fists down and shaking the desk. My heart raced, snapping my eyes to the front to see if anyone was coming.

"I never promised I'd vote in favor of your proposal," Woodard said still completely calm and I circled 'proposal.' So many options flew through my head, but I couldn't think of anything that would cause such a violent stir in Deville.

"Yeah, well you sure made it clear to everyone that you were. Pompous," He spat under his breath. I heard him begin to pace, the floor creaking under his squeaky leather shoes, "Pretentious, child. I don't ask for much. I don't like conflict."

I could see why. If this guy got any madder, his head might pop off.

"This," Deville said carefully, "was the one thing I wanted."

"I'm sorry headmaster, I just don't see the point of blowing through the downstairs when we have no need for the space anyways. It's a waste of time and a waste of money. Besides! When would we do it? Think about how loud the renovations would be! It'd drive everyone crazy, no one could get anything taught."

"Well, that's why I'm the Headmaster and you're just a counselor. I can see the bigger picture. I know what's best for everyone else, even if they're all cowards, afraid of a little change."

"That's not fair!" Woodward started shouting, "And I don't appreciate you coming in here, causing a ruckus and insulting me-"

"Woodward, you were the one-"

"That's enough! If you have a problem with the board and their decision, take it up with the Hollys..." Then, there was a beat so quiet, no one breathed. "Or are you afraid? Who's the coward now?" He challenged the Headmaster while tying my stomach into a knot.

Board.

Holly.

They must both be one the school board. Again, Woodward is an enigma to me. How did he have enough stock to be on the board? I thought he was just another counselor.

"I've had enough," The Headmaster grumbled and his squeaky shoes became louder.

Panicked, I shoved my notebook back into my bag as I hurried backward. I tried to manage surprise when Deville threw the door opened. Deville certainly looked amazed. His hand remained on the knob for a moment, his eyes wide.

Profile: Headmaster Clayton Deville

• Middle-aged. Still physically fit and healthy.

• Fan of tweed and squeaky footwear.

• Becomes red in the face when angered.


"Mr. Turney?" He blinked and took a step forward. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," I said the first thing that popped into my head. My mouth moved on its own. "Just here for some counseling." I'm surprised it came out as steady as it did. My heart still pounded. I came from a family of yellers and I learned quickly the best way to get through it was to go quiet, become small and unnoticeable.

"Are you here for Mr. Woodward?" He raised his brow, glancing at the man behind him as if there had never been a screaming match at all. "What could you possibly need to see the counselor for?"

"I had a little... disagreement with Mickey Holly," I tried to explain while not sounding like a trouble maker. Deville typically let me go crazy with my articles. He gave me a lot of leeway and I didn't want to embark on that trust. "Lost my cool a little."

"Oh, yes," He smiled and walked closer. He had on too much of his minty aftershave that I couldn't stand. It was like being gobbled me up and trapped inside a mouth wash bottle. He touched just above my elbow, but he didn't drop his hand. My chest clenched so tight my stomach was cut from its place and fell to my feet. "You and Mickey were very close, right? One wasn't without the other. Very close indeed."

I swallowed. "Um-"

He squeezed my arm. "I do wonder what happened."

"We just..." I stepped to the side, gently tugging my arm just enough to get away but not too much to elicit more. I told him dead in his eyes, "grew apart."

Amused, he chuckled and as he walked by, he patted my shoulder. He drew his mouth close to my ear. He whispered, "I doubt that."

Losing my nerve, I watched him leave. He implied too much, but there's no way he knew about Mickey and Me. We were careful. Incredibly careful. We never did anything outside his dorm room. No matter how many times I wanted to kiss him, even in empty classrooms or deserted hallways we didn't touch. Once we kissed in the bathroom stall, but there's no cameras in there. I don't think.

"Ben, are you alright?" Woodward asked, standing from his desk.

I cleared my throat, hiking my backpack up my arm. "Of course," I said and that was the end of all the drama. Like I thought, Woodward wasted my time discussing stress relieving methods and how to properly deal with emotions and blah, blah, blah. I kind of wanted to slam my fists on the table and storm out too.

The moment I was free to go, I sped out of the office. My fingers were vibrating, ready to document everything while it was fresh on my mind. I hurried down the hall, the eerily empty halls. Most of the clubs were over and all the sports team would have been hitting the showers, all but one.

Nearly head butting a hole through his chest, the fake Mickey Holly fumbled backward and he still managed to grab me. He helped steadied me upright with a little laugh, "Whoa there. You alright?" He smiled a foreign smile. His smiles were like artificial sweetener, nice but not what I really wanted, not what was good for me.

"Great," I grunted and took a big step backward. My personal space had already been encroached today. I'm slowly coming to the conclusion that all men are toxic and I'm just going to make it easier on myself and forgo all men, become celibate and just live platonically with Jacks the rest of my life.

He studied me as if he'd catch me in a lie. He obviously just got out of practice, his hair still wet. Condensation still clung to his dark skin. His duffel bag hung from his back. The sleeve of his letterman's jacket spilled out. I wonder if this impostor even knew one of his pins were missing and was stuck inside the front pocket of the bag on my back.

He opened his mouth, but I didn't feel like playing along with him. Even though the direct route was risky, I knew I wouldn't get through to him any other way. His dodges were skilled, prepared and planned. He was ready for me, so I decided to go off script, "do you know why Headmaster Deville wants to renovate below the school?"

Silence. I could see his thoughts buffering. Finally, I surprised him. He smiled, "I don't know."

"I guess you also didn't know that Woodward and Deville are on the school board?"

"Now I do. You've been busy, haven't you?"

"So, no idea huh? Your family has a lot of influence, why would they go against Deville on his construction plans? Why would they even care? Anything special down there?"

His next answer was quicker, another prepackaged answer. "Sorry Ben, but my family's business is out of my hands until after college. I'm not privy to that kind of information. Maybe I could get you in contact with my father's assistant?"

"No that's alright..."

"Alright," He smiled and walked by me. I watched him go the way I came, catching him look back at me. He chuckled, "Good to see you, Ben. We should hang out soon."

"I'd rather shove my hand in a blender."

His laughter disappeared along with him. After a beat, I decided to trail him. At a good distance, I stayed behind corners, watching him slowly follow my previous path, all the way to the counselor's office. I wondered if he went in for a meeting for another reason.


#

Author's Note

Hmm. So, the flags are missing? I wonder for what reason. And who could possibly be behind it? Quick! Guess who Ben will have to blame for it! And that conversation got a little heated. Strange again. Looks like there's more than a disappearance case on Ben's hands. 

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