Elegy - Chapter 16

I was still thinking about what I saw Sunday night when I got to school on Monday. While it cleared up so many questions, I just didn’t know what to do with it. I thought about talking to Chef, but he didn’t really know the people involved, and he’d just tell me to be patient and wait until something else happened. That doing something for the sake of doing something was what led to mistakes. It wasn’t bad advice, but it also wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

Instead, I made my way to Mr. French’s room during my lunch period.

Peeking into the choir room, I saw he wasn’t busy and knocked on the door frame. His office was a little offshoot of the choir room, with a door, which was usually open, and a window that let him see what the choir was up to. He looked up and saw me through the window and waved me in. This part wasn’t that unusual. I came by to have lunch with him or stopped by after classes got out, from time to time. He’d been a huge help in both writing music and putting me in contact with Rowan, who’d produced our first album.

Today, though, he could tell something was different. I thought I was playing it cool, but he could read the worry on my face.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

The office smelled like old coffee, as always, and it had a weird way of calming me down. At school, this was my oasis, where I could get away from Harry, Coach Bryant, or Mr. Packer and just relax for a little bit. I guess I’d started to connect the smell of his constantly half-full old coffee pot with the idea of a refuge. It’s weird the connections our brains can make.

“Yeah,” I said, sitting down. “I saw something on Sunday night, and I’m not sure how to handle it.”

“Okay,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “And what did you see?”

“So, you know how Mr. Packer has been out to get me all year?”

“I wouldn’t say I’d agree with that. He has made some decisions I disagree with, but I don’t think it’s fair to say he’s out to get you.”

“I know you have to be diplomatic and can’t speak badly about other teachers, and I get it, but I told you about the drug thing and him trying to frame me. I know you said it was probably just an accident, but it wasn’t. Anyway, I’ve also had a similar problem with Aaron’s father. Even after that drug thing was shown to be BS, and the sheriff said there weren’t any more problems with it, he tried to charge me with possession anyway. We got it thrown out, and he claimed it was an error, just like Mr. Packer did, but he’s had it out for me ever since I started getting tangled up with Aaron. It only got worse after Aaron got arrested at the prom.”

“Charlie, I’m not saying I’m doubting you, but if what you’re saying is you think both Mr. Packer and the District Attorney are out to get you, you know how that sounds, right?”

“I do, but it’s also true. I know it’s hard to hear something like that from someone my age and take it seriously, but this is true. And now I have proof. Well, not proof, but now I know what’s happening. You’re right. A teacher wouldn’t just randomly pick out a student to torture and harass. I didn’t know it at the time, but that isn’t what Mr. Packer is doing. I saw him and Mr. Campbell at school on Sunday after the baseball game, and I saw Mr. Campbell give Mr. Packer an envelope full of cash. I wasn’t close enough to hear their conversation, but from their body language I’m nearly certain Mr. Campbell is why Mr. Packer has it in for me. He’s actively paying the man to get me. I’d heard he was vindictive, but I never imagined he’d take what happened between me and Aaron so personally, or that he would try to take it out on me like this.”

“You know this would be a huge risk for Mr. Campbell. You’re accusing him of paying off people to attack you personally and leveraging his office, up to and including fabricating evidence, to go after one person. That could cost him his career, or maybe even put him in jail. It’s difficult to believe that someone would do all that because he blames you for his son getting in trouble. More so after he managed to keep his son out of any trouble and, from what I hear, he’s off to college and already playing football. They haven’t lost anything, and yet you’re saying he’s willing to throw his career away just to get you.”

“I know it sounds crazy, it sounds that way to me too, but I know what I saw,” I said, frustrated. “If I can’t get you to believe me, what chance do I have to convince anyone else?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” he said. “It’s that what you’re talking about requires more than just belief. You have to be able to prove what you’re saying. Did you overhear any part of their conversation?”

I shook my head. “No, I was too far away. But you have to admit that the whole thing seems fishy. Why is the DA meeting with a high school vice-principal at the school on a Sunday night? What else could he have been passing him? This is the only thing that explains what’s been happening to me, and it explains Mr. Packer’s actions all this year too.”

“I agree it does seem suspicious. But without knowing the content or context of their conversation, we have no way of proving they were doing anything wrong.” He held up a hand to stall my protests. “I know you believe they were plotting Mr. Campbell’s vendetta against you, but that is even harder to prove.”

“So, I’m screwed,” I said, slumping back in my chair.

“Charlie, I didn’t say that. I believe you saw what you saw. I just think the worst thing you can do is to take some kind of rash action. There are too many unknowns. Anything you do now could backfire on you spectacularly.” He gave me an apologetic look. “Consider your history with Mr. Campbell and here at school. I know everything they’ve said about you isn’t true, and you’ve been proven innocent time and time again; but to a casual outsider, it wouldn’t be hard for someone to paint you as a troublemaker. From there, they would just have to say they were continuing some investigation into your actions, and the meeting is explained away.”

“This is so unfair.” I clenched my fists, frustration boiling over. “They’re getting away with it, and no one will do anything!”

“That won’t necessarily be true forever. If they’re bending the rules this far, eventually someone’s going to notice. But escalating the situation will only make things worse before that happens.” Mr. French’s tone was calm but firm. “Right now they don’t know you’re onto them, so if they are trying to get you kicked out of school or even brought up on charges, they’re going to keep trying to do it in a way that puts them in the least amount of danger possible. If they realize you know what’s happening, they might escalate things, which you really don’t want.”

I didn’t really have an answer for him. He wasn’t wrong. In this situation, they had all the power, and if they lied how was I going to fight it?

“I know this isn’t what you were looking for, and I’m sorry for that. I know it sucks to hear, but life is often not fair. Sometimes you run into people who have a little bit of power, and they’re determined to use it to get whatever they want, regardless of how it affects anyone else. But, you don’t have to just sit and take it or go through it alone, either. I’ll tell you what, I’ll look into this and talk to some people I can trust to not make things worse. I’m not promising anything, but I’ll see what I can do. I still think, without solid evidence, there’s only so much you, or I, or anyone can do in this situation.”

Although it didn’t make me feel a lot better, I appreciated the gesture.

“I understand, and anything you could do to help would be great.”

“For now, just keep your head down and try not to give them anything they can build on.”

“Okay,” I said, half-heartedly.

I really wished people would stop telling me to keep my head down and stay out of trouble. That’s what I was doing. I hadn’t been in any major conflicts at school aside from a few harsh words with Harry on the baseball field. That didn’t stop them from trying to frame me, and I doubted it would stop them from whatever their next move was.

I did appreciate Mr. French’s offer to help, but I think I felt worse now than I did before I knew Mr. Packer was essentially doing all this for Aaron’s father. Before, it was just misguided meanness. Now I knew it was a concerted effort to hurt me, and one that I had no power to stop.

Everything felt so much more hopeless than it had just yesterday morning.

***

Kat sighed, dropping her pencil on the table in frustration. “I just don’t understand why she’s ignoring me. I’ve texted her at least a dozen times, apologizing for what happened with Troy. But she hasn’t replied to a single message.”

I looked up from my algebra homework, frowning. We’d both been home for about an hour, and had quietly been doing our homework, so it took me a minute to wrench my brain away from the numbers and letters on the page in front of me to what Kat had said.

I did feel bad about how things had gone at the diner, but I’d hoped it would be a momentary blow-up, and things would go back to normal. Considering how close Kat and Hanna had gotten over the last year, it felt wrong to have it thrown away over someone like Troy.

“I’ve called her too,” I admitted. “Left a couple voicemails. But she hasn’t called me back either.”

“Do you think she’s really that upset with us?” Kat’s eyes were worried, the anxieties she constantly fought getting the better of her.

Troy had been out of line, and it had taken a lot for her to confront him. And Hanna had needed to hear it. She’d been letting Troy walk over her all year, and she deserved better than that. I had kind of hoped the tough love approach Kat had gone for would have worked, and I hadn’t expected such an extreme reaction from Hanna.

“I don’t know. Troy was wrong, and you were right to stand up for yourself. Hanna should have had your back.” I paused, choosing my words carefully. “Maybe she’s just embarrassed at her overreaction, and she needs some time to be able to deal with all of it.”

“I guess, but it’s been more than a week. I’m just really worried about her. She hasn’t been herself since she started dating him. I mean, she’s fine when it’s just us, but when he shows up, she becomes a doormat.”

“Maybe it’s because I haven’t had enough time for her this semester. Last semester, we talked all the time, and I was always calling her to check in or tell her about what was going on back here. Since Christmas, I’ve been so focused on my swimming and everything, I just couldn’t make time for her,” she said, pushing a stray hair from her face. “What kind of friend does that make me?”

“A normal one,” I said. “Hanna could have called you just as easily as you called her, and I know you’ve still tried to talk to her. We’ve all been busy, including me. You haven’t done any more or less than the rest of us.”

Kat shook her head, practically not hearing a word I said. “I should have tried harder. Made her a priority. What if she really needed me, and I wasn’t there? Maybe she’s stuck so hard to Troy because she needed someone, and when she couldn’t get what she needed from us, she turned to the first guy who showed her attention. Maybe I’m the reason she’s with a guy like that.”

Kat was spiraling. In no universe would anyone think that their friend was in an abusive relationship because they weren’t a good enough friend. But Kat’s trauma was telling her exactly that.

“Kat, look at me,” I said, reaching across the table to take her hand. “That’s not true. Hanna is her own person and an adult. Nothing you could say or do would make you responsible for who she decided to date.”

“But what if she stays with him forever, and just stops talking to us?”

“She won’t. Eventually, she’ll come to her senses. And it won’t be that easy for her to stop talking to us. We live in her mother’s house, for starters. She just needs some time.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so,” I lied.

I was pretty sure I was right, but I’d been sure about other people in my life, and they’d let me down. I still had faith in Hanna, but letting my doubt show to Kat would just make things worse.

***

Sydney grinned across the table at me, her eyes bright.

“So there I was, covered head to toe in mud, hair dripping, makeup ruined, and Jack goes, ‘Maybe go around next time.’”

I nearly spit out my Coke, which I think she might have timed the punch line for just that reaction. We were at the Backyard Grill on our weekly date, the first one at an actual restaurant in weeks.

It had taken two weeks to pay off the last of the borrowed money that we’d had to get to make up the balance to cover replacing our instruments since the label still hadn’t sent us our checks yet. Chef knew we’d all been real tight for weeks, and I guess he’d overheard someone saying this was the first weekend we’d get to keep our portion of the earnings and not have to pay it back into the band account, so he’d paid all of us for our show the night before.

It was only one night, so it wasn’t a killing, but it was enough for me to take Sydney out on a proper date instead of walking along Miller’s Pond. She’d said she’d had a good time, and I thought it was a clever cheap date, but I hadn’t come up with any other good ideas, so I was happy we could fall back on getting lunch and then finding somewhere quiet to make out for a bit before I had to go to practice.

The more Sydney and I spent time together, the more I appreciated how good she was at storytelling. I know she always said she wanted to be a vet, but I swear she would make a great author with how good she was at spinning a tale.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said.

“Hand to God. I wasn’t invited back after that, but it was worth it to see their faces.”

“Their loss, ‘cause it sounds hysterical.”

“It was. I swear, I thought I could make it.”

Our laughter trailed off, and we just sat there for a moment in silence. We were still new enough as a couple that it wasn’t like the comfortable silences I could have with Kat or Hanna, the kind that only exist with people who really know you, but we were getting there.

I think she noticed it still felt a little awkward too, because she reached across the table and took my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. I gave it a squeeze back. We sat there, just looking at each other and holding hands for a few more minutes until our food came. I know anyone watching us must have thought we were corny or whatever, but I could get lost in her deep brown eyes so easily.

The food did eventually come, and we started talking again, mostly about little things. Stuff that happened at school this week, my practices, Marco’s latest antics, and the kid who fell asleep on the bench at baseball practice and fell off the end into the dirt. It was all stuff we’d already told each other, but I think we both just liked hearing the other one talk. I know I did.

At one point, Sydney grinned at me over her burger, a bit of ketchup clinging to the corner of her mouth. I reached out without thinking, thumb grazing her lip to wipe it away. Her eyes went soft at the gesture, and she gave me a dazzling smile, full of warmth and affection and maybe … something more. Of course, we couldn’t act on that promise. Her dad was home, and I had practice, but it still made my face flush a little bit.

Sadly, we eventually finished our meal, and it was time for me to head to the Blue Ridge. I wish our stolen time together on Saturdays could be longer, but she had youth group Saturday mornings, so it was all we could manage.

We headed outside and stopped at my car, me leaning against my door while she leaned against me, arms wrapped around each other. I usually parked around the side of the restaurant, where there were no windows. The restaurant was between us and the street, so the only people who’d see us were employees coming and going to their cars or people at the far end of the parking lot who happened to turn and look towards us.

It wasn’t privacy, exactly, but it did allow us to be a little more affectionate without all the PDA, which neither of us was overly comfortable with. We spent a few more minutes just talking, wrapped in each other’s arms, enjoying the closeness.

Finally, the conversation started to wind down, and she stepped back slightly. “You should probably get going soon,” she said, her tone regretful.

I reached out and grabbed her hands, giving her a gentle tug to bring her back into my arms. She peered back up at me, her eyes warm and soft. She wrapped her arms around my neck as I leaned down and kissed her softly. She tasted like the vanilla milkshake she’d had for dessert, sweet and fragrant.

When we finally broke apart, she let out this little hum of contentment, resting her forehead against my chest. I kept my arms around her, holding her close, just enjoying the warmth of her body. After a few beats, she pulled back just enough to look up at me.

“I love you, Charlie,” she said softly.

When I didn’t say anything in response, her brow creased as she searched my eyes.

“I love you,” she said, more anxious and questioning this time.

I wanted to say something, but everything I tried just got stuck in my throat. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t said “I love you” before. I’d said it to Mom, Hanna, and Kat numerous times, but those had been different. That was a familial love, not a romantic one. I knew I cared deeply for her, although I hadn’t examined my own feelings enough to be able to say if it was love or not. But everything I tried to say just kind of hung there, the sounds not coming out.

Sydney was amazing. She was clever, funny, passionate, and about the sweetest person I’d ever met, and I really did love spending time with her.

But …

“I’m sorry. I know what you want me to say, but you have to understand, my parents, they had this volatile relationship my entire life. That’s what I saw from two people who said they loved each other. I hadn’t really realized it until this moment, but I guess it’s made me hesitant to say it until I’m all the way, one thousand percent sure.”

Sydney’s face fell. “So you’re not sure if you love me or not …”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I’m not explaining this well. I care about you. A lot. It’s not a yes or no thing. It’s just that I want to really be positive. I don’t want you to ever think that when I say it, I might just be saying it because you did. I want you to know I really mean it.”

“You could tell me if you loved me a little bit, or whatever. If you can’t even say it, then maybe you don’t feel it. If you don’t, I don’t want you to say it just to make me feel better, but don’t just tell me something to keep from hurting me.”

As she turned away from me, I could see tears in her eyes. It made my stomach drop like on a roller coaster, and I felt nauseous. I was doing this all wrong, but I still couldn’t say it. Not to just make her happy or keep us from having a fight. I just needed to make her understand.

“Sydney, it’s not like …”

“Take me home, Charlie.”

Her voice was flat, deflated.

As we got into my car, the silence was incredibly heavy. She stared out the window, not looking at me, her jaw working. I knew I should say something, but every word I said just seemed to make the situation worse.

Sydney didn’t say a word the entire drive to her house. She just kept staring out the window, watching the scenery go by without really seeing it. The silence was so heavy it felt like a physical presence in the car, pressing down on us.

When we pulled up in front of her house, I put the car in park but left it running. I searched for the right words to say to her, something to make this right, but everything sounded hollow or cliché in my head. After a few long moments, Sydney reached for the door handle.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said tonelessly, getting out and shutting the door behind her without another word.

I watched as she walked up the front steps to her house. She didn’t turn around. Didn’t wave. Just went inside, the door closing firmly behind her with an air of finality. My chest tightened as I realized this was the first time since we’d started dating that we didn’t end a date with at least a quick kiss. I’d really screwed this up.