Samantha – Convincing Ashworth

The student council meeting had approved a motion to put up flyers around the school and pass them out to every student. A committee was formed to prepare the flyer and given a short fuse for getting it done. O’Connor, as the president got the job of reporting the decision to Ashworth. Ashworth wasn’t receptive, sending the council back to the drawing board. Samantha offered another proposal.

How did I let myself get roped into this? I wondered. Actually I knew. O’Connor had tried to get school funds to pay for the flyers the student council was supposed to put out. We could have used someone’s home printer or gotten a shop to do it, but no one wanted to cough up the money to pay for it. We all thought it was a school problem, and, therefore, the school should pay. Of course, Principal Ashworth objected. His rational was the school was short on funds, which may or may not have been true. Personally, I thought it was because he didn’t want to publicize that the school had a problem, and our flyers would invariably get out in the public. O’Connor had tried his best to convince him, and when that failed I got elected because I had the most convincing argument.

Now I was standing across the counter from Ms. Farrow. “Let me understand this, Miss Pederson. You want to talk to Dr. Ashworth about the pranks. Are you admitting to doing them?”

I didn’t say anything. I think she read my face and saw the anger there. Yes, I was responsible for some of the better shenanigans, but I wasn’t about to admit to them. I was angry because of the tendency to blame me for just about anything unfortunate that happened that year, and I still wondered if Ingrid Hoffman hadn’t started a rumor or suggested I was a trouble maker.

Ms. Farrow seemed to be determined to get rid of me. “Don’t you have a class?”

“I have study hall this period.” I was tempted to add, “If you’d stop stalling me, I could get this over with and still have time left to study.”

She harrumphed. “I’ll let him know you’re here. Have a seat.”

“I’ll stand, thank you. Tell him I have a solution to the practical jokes.”

She glared at me before walking to her desk and keying the intercom. “Miss Pederson to see you, sir. She claims to have an answer for the pranks.”

There was a pause. Then I heard Ashworth’s voice in the tinny tone of the ancient intercom. He sounded weary and resigned. “Send her in, but she’d better not be wasting my time.”

He didn’t bother to get up when I came through the door. “What do you have to say, Miss Pederson? And please make it brief.”

I got straight to the point. “As you know, the practical jokes have become increasingly frequent recently. In talking to other students I’m hearing that your inept detective is the main cause. Most everyone I know calls him Sheerluck Jones and says that the pranksters are competing by challenging him with their tricks …”

Ashworth exploded. “What? Who said I had a detective?” His face was bright red. He started to rise up in his chair but stopped.

“As I said, he’s inept. He’s obviously not a real cusodian, and his questions are inappropriate for a cusodian. He has to be authorized to be in the building, so you have to know he’s here and not legitimate. Ergo, you must have hired him. No one else would be interested in finding out who the jokers are and have the authority to get him in here. Besides, his secretary told us he is working for you.”

“She what?” He looked apoplectic. I began to be concerned he would have a heart attack.

“Sir, the solution is simple. Get rid of him. It’ll stop the competition. I won’t guarantee it will stop all the tricks, but it should keep them from getting out of hand and getting somebody hurt.”

I almost couldn’t believe it. I swear I could see the light go on. He actually relaxed. He was silent for a moment. Then he smiled at me. I think that scared me more than being taken to the police station. “Thank you, Miss Pederson. I’ll have to seriously consider your advice.”

“Yes sir.” I looked at my watch. “I should get back to study hall now.”

“You do that.”

I headed out the door, wondering if he was pleased or predatory.

––– # –––

As soon as I walked into the library, I was surrounded. “How’d it go?” “Did he buy it?” “Did we get the money for the flyers?”

Ms. Olsen was giving us dirty looks, so I shushed everyone and whispered, “Keep it down. I’ll tell you about, but let’s move into the auditorium first.”

When we arrived, I gave a detailed briefing of what had happened. I finished with, “I don’t know how to read Principal Ashworth, but what I suggested seemed to make him happy. I suspect he was tired of throwing money away on Sheerluck.”

O’Connor asked, “When do you think we’ll know something?”

“I suspect before the end of the day.”

Right then the class bell rang and we all hurried to our next class.

––– # –––

When I came out English class at the end of the day, Principal Ashworth was waiting for me. “Miss Pederson, could I speak to you privately?”

My stomach did a flip-flop.

Samantha – Council Meeting

The prank at the football game had been a tremendous success. It even made the TV news. Samantha had set high expectations, and she had unintentionally recruited a team for more mischief. It didn’t take them long to find out that publishing a website was out of their league, but wiring a cheap CB radio into the school public address was easy. To keep it unexpected but frequent they tuned it to channel 19, at the time one of the most popular. The first transmission was received during second period, and others occurred sporadically during the rest of the day. By the time the public address repairman showed, it was after lunch and even the pranksters were tired of the interruptions.

Other pranks included coloring the shrubbery with a water soluble red paint, spraying the corridors with fake spider webs, putting vinegar in the lunchroom drink dispenser, and other harmless monkeyshines. The police weren’t interested since no one was being hurt, but Principal Ashworth hired a private detective to find the culprits. He turned out to be as ineffective as Inspector Clouseau or Sherloque Tanney.

Here’s what Samantha has to say about it.

Keeping ahead of the detective, Sheerluck Jones, became a game in itself. Unfortunately, other people joined the game and started playing pranks on their own. I could see what was coming, so I got together with Dwayne and Renee to decide what to do about it.

We sat down together in the Exchange snack bar after school. I went right to the heart of the matter. “I think it’s time to get out of the prank business.”

I had expected a “What? Why?” from either Dwayne or Renee, but they both nodded their heads. Dwayne spoke first. “This could get nasty in a hurry. Do you think a police investigation would lead to us?”

I answered, “I don’t know, but it would be best if we can head off a probe. What can we do to put a lid on this prank epidemic we started?”

Renee laughed. “I’m not so sure we started it. Sheerluck’s bumbling is what made it fun and got others involved … Do either of you know who started that nickname?”

Dwayne surprised us with an answer. “Locally, no, but it came from a derogatory name applied to a DC comic character … Getting back to the issue at hand, this is a student issue and needs to be handled by the Student Council. Someone who is obviously alert to the problems this can cause needs to bring it up at the next meeting. I’m already on the council so it should be one of you. I can back you up when the discussion gets underway.”

I glanced at Renee who was looking at her hands. I said, “I started this whole thing, so I guess it’s my responsibility.” Renee looked relieved. “I have one problem … I don’t lie. If they ask me what I know about what’s happening, well, I’m not sure how to address that.” Renee blanched.

Dwayne said, “I agree it should be you. You’ll have to take charge and steer the conversation – aggressively. Make sure it never gets around to what you know about it. Better yet, start off with what you know about the other pranksters but don’t tie it to anything we’ve done.”

I thought about that for a few seconds. “Maybe I could compare what might happen to one of our weaker attempts, say painting the shrubs. That way there wouldn’t be any obvious holes.”

Dwayne had an additional suggestion. “You probably ought to practice what you’re going to say. Renee and I could sit in and offer suggestions.”

It’s never that easy.

––– # –––

From what I understood the Student Council meetings were rarely attended by anyone but the council. When I walked in to the room, people were already standing along the walls. Bill Compton had a seat in the front row. When I walked by he stood up. “Looking for a seat, Sam? You can have mine.”

“Thanks, but …”

“No buts, I can stand.”

All I could say was, “Thanks.”

He walked away and I took the seat.

The sergeant-at-arms rapped the gavel and called the meeting to order. He introduced the council president, Walter O’Connor, and sat down.

O’Connor looked over the room. “Wow, what brings all of you here?”

There were several titters, but Bill spoke up, “We’ve heard that something important is going to be discussed, and the council was likely to blow it off.”

O’Connor started to say something that began with an indignant “How …?” and then stopped. He changed directions. “Does anyone here know what this important subject is?” He looked around the room. No hands went up. He looked at the members of the council. Dwayne frowned and looked at me, but no one else responded. Then, as O’Connor started to say something, I realized this was my turn staring me in the face. I rose to my feet. “I know what it is.”

“Your name and class for the record, please.” O’Connor knew me, but this was supposed to be a formal meeting.

“Samantha Pederson, Senior.”

“And what is this important topic?”

“The pranks that are going on at the school.” I stood taller. “We’re heading for real trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the pranks are getting more dangerous. I mean hiding all the toilet paper in the girls’ locker room was annoying but no one got hurt by it. Someone deliberately blocked the doors to the gym the other day. Glenn Reiser and Andy Carpenter both hit he doors so hard when they raced out of the gym that they were woozy and had to be helped to their feet. Luckily neither was seriously injured, but they could have been.”

“They shouldn’t have been running,” O’Connor said, dismissing the problem.

“I’m not arguing that, but the situation was dangerous. Someone could have been hurt. That’s what is important. Whoever blocked the door would have been more at fault than Glenn or Andy. Those doors have panic bars for a reason – so no one gets crushed if a crowd tries to get through them in a panic.”

“So what are we supposed to do about this problem?” O’Connor was still being dismissive.

“You guys are the council, figure it out, but I would suggest starting by letting the student body know that enough is enough, that if somebody is injured in one of these pranks, the prankster will be held responsible.”

O’Connor stood there open mouthed. I can still remember how funny he looked. Fortunately, Dwayne came to the rescue. “Walt, why don’t we get a consensus of the students in the room and see how important this is to them? That way we’ll know how to proceed.”

It was a totally new idea since there had never been a group this large at a council meeting. O’Connor jumped on it. Before the meeting was over, the council had agreed to take action to shut down the pranks. They recruited a committee from the students in the room to create posters urging a stop to the shenanigans, and another group to urge Principal Ashworth to fire his inept PI, and finally, as the council’s most outspoken member, O’Connor took on the task of putting together a short announcement on the public address.

Naturally, Ashworth was the one who balked.

Samantha – Co-conspirators

For those of you who are just joining this blog, it’s a character study of the protagonist, Samantha Pederson, for my next book, Antimatter (working title). She tells about her life starting just before she turns 16 and follows the events that shape her personality up till her current involvement in a government organization that researches technical development for potential threats to our security. In the previous episode Samantha had pulled off an elaborate prank on Principal Ashworth, but as careful as she had been about hiding her involvement, someone had called her on it.

My mind screamed, No way anyone could know what I did. Forcing a what-are-you-talking-about expression, I turned on the bench to face my accuser. “Dwayne!” I was dumbfounded. I sat there with my mouth open.

Dwayne filled the silence. “Hey, your secret’s safe with me.” He glanced at Renee. I couldn’t help myself, I looked at her too.

A puzzled expression on her face, Renee asked, “What are you looking at me for? I don’t even know what you’re talking about. What secret?”

Renee wasn’t slow, and I could see the realization dawning on her face. “You mean you …? You set off that awful noise. But … but how?”

We all scanned the bleachers around us. No one was near enough to hear us. It was one of those years for the team, so bad the attendance was always low. I returned my gaze to Renee. I wasn’t about to acknowledge what I did, even by acquiescence unless I had her word she wouldn’t tell.

Renee realized what I was looking for. “I won’t tell anyone either.”

I glanced at Dwayne. He smiled and gave a single nod, confirming he wouldn’t say anything.

First I had to know. “How did you conclude I was involved?”

He shrugged. “From what little I know of you, you’re not the type to let someone wrong you and get away with it, and it was pretty clear you thought Ashworth was deliberately after you. I have to agree with you.”

“Wait. You didn’t actually know I had something to do with this? So you tricked me into admitting …” My anger flared. If he hadn’t been out of reach, I don’t know what I would have done.

It must have shown. He shrunk back. “I had to know. I want in on it.”

I had started to get up, but that stopped me. “You want in on it?”

He nodded. “As long as no one actually gets hurt. It looks like fun, and he’s pissed off enough people with the way he runs the school. He needs some retaliation.”

I relaxed and so did Dwayne. I regarded Renee. “What about you? I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“I’m in. After all, we went to jail together.”

Dwayne’s eyebrows rose. The police incident wasn’t common knowledge. Right then it occurred to me that our run in with the police might be why Ashworth was down on me. I had to say something to Dwayne. “It wasn’t anything. I played a prank on a couple of cops. They took us to jail to scare us.”

“And it worked,” Renee added with a rueful smile. “I’ve never been so scared.”

Dwayne stepped down to our bleacher. “Getting back on the subject, how did you pull this off today?”

It took me all of ten minutes to outline what I had done. Dwayne commented, “You realize this may be your crowning achievement. It’s going to be awfully hard for us to top it.” Something about that statement irritated me, but I couldn’t tell what at the time.

The game should have been called at half-time. Our team was so far behind, the other team could have gone home and we still wouldn’t have caught up by the end of the game. Even the most loyal fans were streaming out of the stadium. Heck, Ashworth had gone silent.

Dwayne stood up. “This is ridiculous. What say we go to Baskin-Robbins and drown our sorrows … while we plan our campaign?”

I nodded and climbed to my feet. At the same time I felt some resentment. Dwayne was taking over my revenge effort. I didn’t want to discourage him, but I wanted to make sure he knew I was in charge.

––– # –––

Baskin-Robbins was filled when we got there, so we had to stand in line. By the time we had gotten our ice cream, a table had cleared out, so Renee and I grabbed it and left Dwayne to pay for our orders. Renee took a window seat and I took the outside seat opposite her to see what Dwayne would do. He took the window seat next to me.

As he sat, he asked, “Do you think we can talk here?”

I scanned the crowd. “We should be okay … as long as we’re discrete.”

“Any idea what the next stunt should be?” Was he taking over again?

Personally I wanted to bask in the glory of having succeeded on my first attempt, but that wouldn’t be taking command. Still I said, “I’m open to suggestions.”

Dwayne responded immediately. “I’m thinking in terms of hacking into the school website and posting unflattering pictures of Ashworth.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” Renee wanted to know.

I nodded. “‘Fraid so … however, we could always start a new website and post unflattering stuff there. I bet we could get a domain name that people would check out because it looks so much like the school’s.”

“But they could always trace the posts back to us,” Dwayne objected.

“Not if we signed Ashworth up from a school computer for an obscure email account and use that account to sign up for a free website.” I was pretty sure that would work.

Renee countered, “Don’t the internet service providers have rules about that sort of thing?”

“How would they know?” I asked.

She looked skeptical. “I don’t know, but I bet they would. Somehow I think all that would be asking for trouble.”

I considered for a second. “I tell you what, Renee. Why don’t you research the ramifications? I want to cause Ashworth discomfort, not get him in legal trouble.”

She still looked doubtful. “Okay, I’ll do that, but I’ll bet it won’t work.”

I glanced at Dwayne. I had managed to take control of the group, and he didn’t seem to mind. I didn’t realize at the time I had driven a wedge between us.

Samantha – The Joke

The scare she had gotten, along with her counselor’s questions, had Samantha thinking about backing out of her plan to play practical jokes on Ashworth. Was it worth the risk? Did he really deserve it? On the other hand would it do him any harm? She finally decided to go ahead with the plan but to be ready to pull out at the slightest hint she might be caught.

Saturday morning I got up early. I had already told everyone I was going for a fifteen mile run and I was going to get an early start. Donning my running gear, I made my way down stairs as quietly as I could. Not that I was being secretive – well, maybe a little, but I didn’t want to wake anyone. I stopped in the garage to work on the clock radio. It was a quick operation. To verify that the alarm would go off when it was supposed to, I tuned to a local country station and set the alarm for two minutes. That worked, so I set the alarm for when I knew Principal Ashworth would be at the microphone. Checking that the clock was set to the correct time, I pulled the radio’s plug and waited impatiently for five minutes before plugging it back in. The radio’s time matched my watch to the second.

With the radio unplugged again, I clipped the speaker and buzzer leads and taped over the display with duct tape so the light wouldn’t give it away. Finally, I slid the radio and my phone into my already empty back pack and headed for the front door.

I got a shock when I heard Mom coming down the stairs. She said, “Have a good run. I’ll fix you breakfast when you get home. When will that be?”

I swallowed hard to get rid of the shakiness in my voice. “It’s fifteen miles, and I’ll be taking it easy. Probably around two hours. I’ll call if I’m going to be later than that.”

“Okay, have fun, dear.”

“See you when I get back.” I waved as I went out the door.

The run to school was easy. As usual the back gate to the football field was open. I took a lap around the track, primarily to see if anyone else was there. I didn’t expect to see anyone at this hour, but I wanted to be sure. It was all clear, so I made my way around to the back of the stands and entered the bleachers through a tunnel. I jogged up the stairs to the broadcast booth.

Doing some simple stretching as cover, I made another check for possible observers. This check was critical, and I was as thorough as I could be. I still saw no one. Taking a last look, I unlocked the booth and slipped inside.

It only took a few minutes to set the radio up. I connected it to the amplifier with the audio cord I had attached to the speaker terminals on the circuit board, turned off the mute switch for the input channel I was using, and adjusted the volume slide to match the slide for the microphone. Finally, since the radio would only buzz if it was on battery power, I plugged it into the socket behind the amplifier.

Crawling out from under the announcer’s counter, I heard a voice. A chill ran down my back, freezing me in place. The sound was coming from the field. I eased up until I could see the track out the window. A couple, obviously not high school students, was trotting around the track, jabbering away at each other as they ran.

When they started their second lap, I knew I had a problem. How long would they stay around? Would someone else come before they left? I didn’t recognize either of them, so they probably wouldn’t recognize me. Deciding I couldn’t afford to wait, I slipped out of the booth and locked it. When the runners had their backs to the tunnel, I flipped my hood up and trotted down the stairs, keeping a wary eye on them.

I ducked into the tunnel, and the stands gave me cover all the way to the south end of the stadium. I waited for the couple to pass the end of the stands on their next lap. Then I slipped around to the front. They weren’t looking back, so I ran for all I was worth onto the field and out the back gate, keeping the back of my hood toward them. I was three blocks away before I could glance back and relax.

––– # –––

The kickoff for the football game was at 2:05 PM, but I was there half an hour early to be sure I could see Principal Ashworth when he came out of the booth. Renee came in just before the game started, and when I waved at her, she joined me. “I didn’t know you were a football fan,” she said as she sat down beside me.

“Every once in a while I like to try new things.” That was true, even if it didn’t really address what she had said.

The game was a disaster from the start. Our team got the ball first. Bill Compton was sharp as the quarterback, but the receivers dropped his passes and the runners seemed to mostly hit brick walls. They had only made twenty yards before they had to punt, and fifteen of those were from a penalty.

Mike Clemens, the punter, got off a terrific kick, and Lamar Stevens downed the ball at the two yard line. Then all hell broke loose. Principal Ashworth was just celebrating the play, when the radio alarm went off. A country song blared from the speakers. It was so loud it distorted into something incomprehensible, and people were slapping their hands over their ears.

Apparently Principal Ashworth didn’t know about the mute switches on the amplifier because the music dropped to a still-distorted but tolerable level and everyone could hear him swearing. He turned out to know some pretty colorful phrases to use when he was angry. Parents who had been holding their own ears started holding their children’s ears.

With a final burst of profanity the noise abruptly cut off, all of it. A little later the sound system came back on, and a subdued Principal Ashworth spoke. “Ladies and gentlemen, I must apologize for what happened, especially my outburst. It was unprofessional and I sincerely apologize. Someone rigged a radio into the sound system and set it off with a timer. We’ll find out who is responsible for this prank and make sure they are duly reprimanded. … Officials, you may resume the game.”

A voice from behind me said, “Sam, you’ll have to tell me how you did that.” My heart stopped.

Samantha – Counseling

Samantha was in the broadcast booth to check out the layout so she could hook a clock radio into the field sound system, when someone passing by noticed the door was unlocked. The door was directly opposite the window that looked onto the field, and she was under the counter beneath the window, checking out the amplifier.

––– # –––

Knowing I was about to be exposed, I watched in horror as the door knob turned. I almost didn’t hear the other voice my heart was beating so loudly. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Whoever’s working in there has a key.”

The knob stopped. The door was still closed. I held my breath. A person in here on legitimate business would respond to what was going on. I lowered my voice as much as I could. “Hey, thanks for the concern. I’ll be a while longer.” I prayed they didn’t hear the tremor in my voice or recognize it.

The first voice said, “Sorry to disturb you.”

“No problem.” I waited, counting the seconds. Finally I heard them moving off.

Relief swept over me, and I slumped against the wall. I sat there for the longest time, waiting for the shakes to subside. I wondered if I was really cut out for this. If I was going to do this, I couldn’t put it off. The game next Saturday was the last home game of the season, and the team wouldn’t be in the playoffs. This would be my last chance.

I kept thinking I needed a co-conspirator, someone to watch out for me. However, I was willing to take responsibility for my own actions, but I couldn’t be responsible for getting someone else in trouble. … Well, maybe Ingrid Hoffman, but that was another matter entirely.

Finally my shaking subsided enough that I was willing to get up. I was finished with this reconnaissance. I eased the door open a crack and looked out. When I didn’t see anybody I opened it far enough that I could look around. I didn’t hear anyone or see anyone. I slipped out and closed the door. Making sure one more time that no one could see me, I locked the door and pocketed the key.

Then I heard someone coming up one of the tunnels. I moved to the opposite stairs and headed down to that tunnel. I managed to reach it and duck inside before the other person came out. I suddenly grasped the disadvantage of being a red-head and trying to be sneaky.

All the way home I questioned my resolution to carry out this prank. I had expected it to be a rush, but all I had felt while almost being found out was fright. I wished desperately that I had someone I could talk to about it. If Brian were still alive … No, I wasn’t going to go there. It had to be me and me alone … or did it?

Mom was seeing a grief counselor, and it seemed to be working. They’d offered me counseling too, but I had wanted to hurt then. Now I didn’t. Maybe a counselor could tell me if pranks were my way of dealing with the hurt that was still there. I doubted they would condone the pranks, but maybe there was something else I should be doing.

––– # –––

I was able to see my counselor at her office on Thursday. Olivia, a strikingly pretty, short brunet, appeared to be young, somewhere in her twenties I guessed. She wore a frilly white blouse and a black skirt short enough to have distracted a man as she sat with her legs crossed. I had other things on my mind. She listened to me whine about Brian’s death. Then she asked me, “So what are you doing about it?”

I thought about her question for a moment. What was I doing about my grief? I didn’t know. Maybe simply hoping it would fade away with time. “As far as I know I haven’t done anything.”

She templed her fingers in front of her face, touching her lips with her finger tips. “The responses to loss differ for everyone because there is no such thing as a typical loss. Each individual grieves in their own way just as they live their own lives distinctly. We speak of five stages of grief, denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance, but how we deal with each stage is intensely personal. Not everyone goes through them the same way nor do they necessarily go through all of them. There is no universal right way. From what you’ve said to me, I’d say you have worked your way through your version of denial and anger, but you seem to have skipped bargaining and gone directly to depression. There is nothing wrong with that. That’s just your unique way of dealing with grief.”

I hesitated. It was time to get to the point. I wasn’t sure I wanted to trust someone else with what I was preparing to do, but I was talking to her now to get this out of my system. Should I be plotting out these devious pranks? Would they do me any good in relieving my grief? I couldn’t put it off; I had to tell her what I had in mind. I spilled everything, including nearly being caught in the booth.

“And you want me to tell you if you’re doing the right thing?” She paused. “You realize I can’t do that. Let me ask you this, do you believe you’ll get some kind of satisfaction out of pulling of outrageous pranks and getting away with it?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Right now I resent the fact that Ashworth targeted me, and I want to get even.”

She frowned a little as if she were considering what I said. “As a general rule getting even is rarely effective. On the other hand, if you were doing it for fun, it might relieve some of your stress.”

“Okay, let’s say I’m doing it for fun. What about that?” I pressed for a commitment from her. Should I do it or not?

She peered at me for a few seconds before answering. “Look, I can’t solve your problem for you. The best I can do is tell you what I think. You have to decide what to do.”

“But you said it might relieve my stress.”

“It might.”

“So what would you do?” I expected another question.

She surprised me. Instead of answering with something about making my own decision, she answered my question. “I’d go for it – as long as nobody would get hurt.”

“But I want to hurt Ashworth. He hurt me.” I could feel my anger rising.

“So we’re back to that. Will you really gain anything from hurting Principal Ashworth?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll tell you what, go ahead with your prank and tell me next week how it felt.” She walked to the door to let me out. “I’ll see you next Thursday.”

I didn’t feel better as I walked out.

Samantha – The Broadcast Booth

After reconciling with her father, Samantha had a new target for her anger, Dr. Ashworth. He had been prejudiced against her even before he had blamed her for the graffiti. She decided to get even with him by playing pranks carefully crafted to leave no evidence that she had done them. The first one came about serendipitously.I got up early Monday morning and went for a run. The marathon was coming up soon, and I needed to increase my mileage. The easiest way to do that was to run twice a day. I added the run to my morning schedule.


A cold front was moving in, pushing up more storm clouds ahead of it. I kept watching them as I ran, and they got increasingly ominous. When I saw that first lightning strike, I decided it was time to head for home. When the thunder took only four seconds—less than a mile—to reach me, I decided a shortcut was in order.

The street I turned down already had trash cans out for pickup. One of the houses had a small pile of odds and ends separate from the trash. The sign said, “Help Yourself.” I don’t know why – I was in a hurry after all, but I stopped to take a quick look.

There it was, the answer to my first prank, an old clock radio. I put it under my arm and started running again. I didn’t immediately know what I was going to do with it, but ideas hit me as I ran for home.

The one that eventually got my vote was more complex than I would have liked, but it would also be the most public. Principal Ashworth took pride in announcing the home football games. I wondered how he’d react to being preempted by a rock and roll radio station. I figured the teams would continue playing without too much distraction, but Ashworth would be flabbergasted. And I knew how I was going to set it up.

First, I had to gain access to the booth. I had the feeling it shouldn’t be too hard. The hard part would be doing it without being noticed. Anyone having access to it would be suspect after the game.

I knew Coach Ford had access because she used the public address to run pep rallies. I guess she figured the amplification would make up for any lack of attendance. I went after her in a roundabout way so she wouldn’t know what my goal was.

I caught up with her after girls basketball practice in the gym.

As I walked up, she noticed me. “Samantha, how’s your marathon training coming?”

“Coach Ford. Great. I’m doing nine miles a day during the week, and I’ll do a fifteen miler on Sunday.”

“How’s your time?”

“Six thirty five.”

She smiled. “Nice. With time like that you can qualify for the Boston Marathon when you turn eighteen.”

I brought up my purpose for approaching her. “I was wondering if you needed any help in the broadcast booth for the rally Friday.”

She brightened. “Well, I could use a runner. Some things I just can’t say on the public address.”

“I’d be happy to help. What time would you need me?”

“The rally starts right after school lets out. If you could pick up the keys from the principal’s office, I could come directly out and help with the set up.”

That had been too easy. Of course, it would connect me with the broadcast booth, but we didn’t have a home game for another week, and I’d have Coach Ford to vouch for me for this week. The only question was how could I get a copy of the key?

I fretted over that for the next couple of days. In the meantime I rewired the clock radio. Dad hat a great workspace set up in the garage. I’d used the soldering iron and other electricians tools for several projects in the past, so I had a good idea of what I was doing. I soldered an audio cable onto the terminals for the wire to the radio speaker and put an RCA plug on the end of it. I planned to clip the speaker wires when I had everything hooked up to the amplifier in the booth. That way it would be harder to trace where the signal was coming from and shut it off.

When I had the wiring completed, I replaced the backup power battery and tested the alarm clock function with a local rock station tuned in. Everything worked as I wanted. I still had several problems to work out, but I was confident I could.

By Friday afternoon I had figured out the key problem. It would take some work as I later found out. I picked up the key from the principal’s office. Ms. Farrow eyed me suspiciously when I told her Coach Ford wanted me to get it. She even made me sign for it. I stopped by the restroom on my way out to the athletic field and took several pictures of the key, making sure I got a straight on shot of its profile.

I took a detour on my way home and went into a hardware store where I bought a blank key like the one for the broadcast booth. I also bought a bit for Dad’s rotary tool.

After dinner I set to work to make a duplicate key. I had made a template from one of my photos. I glued it on the blank and clamped it in Dad’s heavy vise. Then I spent the next two hours painfully resisting the urge to rush as I cut away the excess metal. Then I carefully smoothed the rough edges.

I held the finished key up close to the fluorescent light over the work bench and examined it. There were a couple of places where I had nicked the template. Hopefully the key would still work. I didn’t want to go through this again. I was beat.

The next Monday before I left school for home, I made my way to the booth. I kept looking over my shoulder to be sure no one was watching. The football squad was practicing on the field, and I had to cross open space to reach the booth. I tried to walk casually and look like I was watching the team because I admired what they doing. By the time I reached the booth I was fairly sure no one had even looked in my direction.

The door to the booth was on the side away from the field. I took one last look around, and tried the key. I had to jiggle it a little to get it work, but I was in. The amplifier was on a shelf under the counter that ran along the front of the booth. I crawled under the counter.

There was space enough behind the amplifier to place the clock radio. I’d just have to turn off the digital display so it wouldn’t attract attention. I pulled the amplifier forward to check the back. Yes! There were two empty input jacks. I checked the front. Each input jack had its own volume knob and a mute switch. So far so good. The electrical outlet was was several inches to the side of the amplifier. It had three open sockets, which meant that if someone wanted to plug something else in they would see the power cord to the radio. That was a chance I had to take.

Voices! My heart thudded. Someone was walking by outside. I heard the doorknob turn. A voice said, “Whoever was in here last forgot to lock up. We should check inside.”

Samantha – Payback

Originally posted on March 27, 2017 by Gordon Savage

Samantha had done what she considered to be the right thing. She had called home to report that she had gone UA (“Unauthorized Absence” for those of you who are unfamiliar), taking full responsibility for what she had done. It left her father in a quandary of sorts. She had deliberately disobeyed, but she had also reported herself. On top of that he had realized she had been telling the truth, which meant the grounding wasn’t justified. What was he supposed to do?We drove home in total silence. I looked at Father. His face was grim, and he was staring at the road. I knew better than to say anything. All I could do was sit there imagining what he would do when we got home. It take long for me to find out.

As soon as Father closed the door, he stopped and froze me with a look I can’t describe. I resisted an urge to drop my head. Instead, I came to attention and stared him in the eye.

“Sammy”—He never called me that except when he was apologetic— “Dammit, you’ve put me in a fix. What you did tonight made me understand that you didn’t lie about the graffiti, and you didn’t deserve to be grounded. I have to apologize for that. On the other hand you disobeyed orders. I don’t know which is more important.”

He paused. “So help me, if this had happened last year I would have put you in a military school to teach you some self-control. As it is, a semester – if we could get you in – wouldn’t do you or anyone else any good.”

He looked me up and down. “Right now I should be chewing you out royally, but I recognize my own part in this and your grit for informing me of what you had done. So here’s what’s going to happen. Your grounding is terminated; however, for now your 10 o’clock curfew will continue, and if you screw up again … well, you figure it out.”

I stood there speechless. What had just happened? I had disobeyed, a cardinal sin, and I had gotten off with a reprieve. I had to rethink Father’s – my Dad’s – actions. I was still mad at him for Brian’s death, but he had been more than fair with me, and Brian wasn’t forced to join the marines. He’d made that decision based on Dad’s urging, but it was Brian decision.

Dad snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Sammy, are you alright?”

I realized I’d been staring into space. “Uh. I’m fine… and thank you. May I speak candidly?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Certainly. What’s on your mind?”

I looked down. Then I gritted my teeth. “I need to apologize. I was so mad at you for making Brian join the marines, but I realize it was his decision. I don’t know if he did it to make you proud of him or what, still it was his choice.” I paused to gather my thoughts.

“I’m glad to hear that. I hope that I have my Samantha back.” He actually hugged me.

I teared up. “I love you, Daddy.”

— # —

An hour later I continued to be in shock. What had happened? Dad had forgiven me, and I had forgiven him. The feud was over. I could get back to my life. I should have been elated or maybe a little sad. Instead, I was still feeling angry.

And it wasn’t at Dad. It was at Principal Ashworth. Even before the graffiti incident, he had been after me for some reason, maybe the prank. He had no right to profile me.

The more I thought about it the angrier I got. The idea was slow forming, but I was going to make him pay. He didn’t like my pranks? He’d learn about pranks. I began thinking of ways I could play practical jokes on him – without getting caught.

Samantha – Over the Wall

Originally posted on March 20, 2017 by Gordon Savage

When she was told she couldn’t go to the dance, something broke in Samantha. She was so angry with her father she ignored her own responsibility for being grounded and decided on outright defiance. She was going to the dance no matter what. If that caused more punishment, so be it.

I was initially so enraged I couldn’t think of anything but my determination to get to the dance despite being forbidden in no uncertain terms by Father. When I finally cooled down enough to start really thinking, I realized I had a monumental task.

First and foremost I had to get out of the house on a Saturday night without being noticed. As I continued planning, my anger faded to a smoldering resentment. By the time I went to bed I had worked out a plan that both excited me and terrified me.

Starting Monday, I began taking make up, toiletries, and such to school and leaving them in my locker. The hard part was getting my dress there without attracting attention. I finally took it to the cleaners on Thursday and had them deliver it to me at school on Friday. I hoped it wouldn’t get crushed in my locker.

Saturday came, and I pouted all day. That wasn’t lying. I was unhappy with what I was going to do. I picked at my dinner, more because of nerves than because I wasn’t hungry.

After dinner Mom had rented a movie to watch. She and I cleaned up the table and loaded the dishwasher. As soon as we finished, Mom announced the movie would start as soon as everyone had assembled.

I made a show of being grumpy. “I’m not interested. I’m going up to my room.”

“Are you sure, Honey? You don’t seem to be spending much time with the family lately, and you wanted to see this movie when it first came out.”

“Not tonight.” I headed up the stairs.

To give everyone time to settle down in the living room, I took a quick shower. When I had finished, I put on my sweats and pocketed my cell phone. I opened my door a crack to listen. Nothing but a murmur from downstairs. Out on the landing I stopped to listen again. The only thing I heard was the soundtrack from the movie. From the top of the stairs I looked down to ensure no one was in sight. So far so good. I eased down the stairs.

About half way down I heard the sound of the microwave and popcorn popping. Swearing to myself I hurried back up the stairs. Sure enough, before I reached my door, I heard Mom say, “I’m going up to see if Samantha wants to come join us for popcorn.”

I slipped inside and quietly closed the door. I thought for a moment I’d sit down at my desk and turn on my laptop. Then I had a better idea. I climbed in to bed. I pulled the covers up so my sweats didn’t show and lay on my side facing away from the door.

In a few seconds Mom knocked on my door. When I didn’t answer, she opened the door. “Samantha, we’re having popcorn …”

Trying to look sleepy, I turned my head toward Mom and went, “Wh…?”

“Oh, sorry, Honey. Never mind. Go back to sleep. See you in the morning.” She closed the door.

I waited a few minutes and made my way downstairs. This time I got all the way down. I hurried into the kitchen, stopping at the back door. Straining my hearing to make sure no one was coming from the living room, I opened the door and slipped outside. I had made it this far, but it wasn’t time for celebration yet.

There was no fence between our house and Captain French’s. I ran across our backyard and through his backyard. Careful to stay close to the house and below the window sills, I made my way to the street in front.

I pulled out my phone and dialed Dwayne. In a few minutes he pulled up in front of me. As I got into his car, he said, “Hi. I love your dress.”

I punched his arm.

When we got to school, the dance had already started. I carried my dress and things into the girls restroom and hurriedly changed. Then I took the time to make sure I looked as if I had gotten ready at home.

When I came out, Dwayne went wide-eyed and said, “Wow. Now I really do love that dress.”

The dance itself was a dream. Dwayne was a terrific dance partner, and several other boys, including Bill, danced with me. I enjoyed myself more than I had in weeks.

At the intermission Coach Hendricks ran up the stairs to the stage. He made a big deal of congratulating the football team for their victory in the afternoon. He called some of the players up for special recognition, and finished by leading a cheer for the team. Then Mrs. Campbell, one of the English teachers, announced the Homecoming Queen, Lisa Marconi, and the Homecoming King, Daniel Goodman.

Afterwards, Lisa came up to me at the punch bowl. “That should have been you up there, Sam.”

I was genuinely flattered. “I … I don’t know what to say. As far as I’m concerned you deserved the title.”

She looked mildly embarrassed. “You were on the list for consideration and Principal Ashworth vetoed it.”

I suppose I should have been upset, but that statement neither surprised me nor bothered me. “So he was already after me for some reason, and the graffiti gave him ammunition. I may need to have a talk with him. Thanks for the info… and I meant it when I said you deserved the title.”

The rest of the dance passed so quickly I almost passed my deadline. The scoreboard clock said 9:33 when I looked at it. When Dwayne and I finished the dance, I walked him to the seats and said, “I’ll be back in a minute. I have to make a phone call. It’s time to face the consequences.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll tell you when I get back.” I hurried out of the gym and went to my locker. I checked my phone. No missed calls and no messages. Good. At least no one was panicked yet. I speed-dialed Father.

“Admiral Pederson speaking.”

“Father, this is Samantha. I’m at the dance, and …”

“You’re where?” the phone erupted.

“I’m at the dance. I wanted to make sure I called you before anyone found I was missing. I’m ready to face my punishment. I’ll be in the gym.” I hung up.

Dwayne didn’t understand. “You called your father? Are you crazy? We could have sneaked you back in without anyone noticing.”

“Maybe, but I’ll feel better about myself this way. I take responsibility for my actions and I don’t lie. Let’s dance.”

I was dancing with Dwayne when Father came into the gym. I didn’t see him until he walked up to us and tapped Dwayne on the shoulder. “Mind if I cut in?”

Dwayne jumped like he had been jolted with electricity. He stepped back from Father with a horrified expression on his face. “No sir. Go right ahead.”

Father took my arm gently and said, “It’s time to go home.”

He turned and started walking with me toward the door.

I waved goodbye to Dwayne. “See you in school.”

As I walked toward the door, I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I knew it wouldn’t be good.

Samantha – Invitation to the Dance

Originally posted on March 15, 2017 by Gordon Savage

Samantha dreaded facing her father, expecting to receive added grounding for getting away with having help to finish her punishment at school. Plus she was still furious that he wouldn’t believe her when she told him she had not put the graffiti on the school.

––– # –––

One thing about Father being in the navy, his time was rarely his own. He had been called in that morning to an emergency meeting. He didn’t get home until after two in the afternoon, giving me plenty of time to stew. By the time he walked up the steps, I had had come up with a list of possible outcomes, none of them pleasant. I was beginning to wonder if getting even with him for Brian’s death was worth the difficulties I was going through.

I waited for him downstairs doing homework on the kitchen table. Mom intercepted him and told him what had happened. He came into the room with a non-committal expression. I stood up to face him and came to attention. He hadn’t told me to, but I had to show him that I understood this was serious.

He looked me in the eye for a second. “So, you pulled a ‘Tom Sawyer’ at school today?”

I wasn’t prepared for that question and had to think about it. Tom Sawyer had conned other children into helping him whitewash a fence. “No, sir, not exactly. Several kids had gathered to heckle me while I cleaned up the wall. I stood up to the most obnoxious one and told him off. Apparently it made an impression on him because he decided to help. When he did, a lot of the other hecklers joined in. I didn’t con any of them.”

A fleeting smile crossed his face. “So, what am I supposed to do with you? Your mom says you also stood up to Ashworth and got away with it.” The smile returned. “Actually, I’m proud of you. You’re going to make a fine leader someday. As far as I’m concerned you met the school’s requirements and I see no reason to extend your grounding.”

I tried not to show my relief. In fact, I decided to make one more plea for him to recognize that I hadn’t been lying. I think that if it had succeeded, my life would have been decidedly different. At least I would have quit trying to hurt him. “Sir, you have to believe me. I didn’t paint the graffiti on the school building. I’ll never convince Principal Ashworth, but you must know that I don’t lie – ever.”

The smile faded. “I know you’ve been in a lot of trouble since Junior died and your behavior hasn’t been up to your standards, so I don’t know if you’ve added lying to the list of irresponsible things you’ve done.”

All hope faded.

––– # –––

The lunchroom was noisy as usual that Monday. I did a quick scan and spotted Dwayne by himself at a table near the windows. When I had picked up my lunch, I carried my tray over to his table. He looked up as I approached. I smiled, perhaps a little too brightly. “Hi, Dwayne. I just wanted to thank you again for your help Saturday.”

He stood. “You’re more than welcome. Would you like to join me?”

Would I? Okay, he wasn’t as handsome as Bill, but he was good looking, and he was taller than I, even if only an inch or so. And he was smart. I wasn’t about to complain. “Thanks.”

I put my tray down next to his and sat. “I never did find out the big guy’s name. Do you know who he was?”

“Not really, but I’m pretty sure he’s on the football team.”

“That’s a shame. I’d like to thank him as well. If I can find the time, I’ll try to find him.”

“I hear you told Principal Ashworth off.”

I couldn’t help grinning. “It wasn’t that big a deal. I simply told him I met the terms he gave me and I wasn’t going to do any more.”

“So why did you put your initials on that quotation? I hate to say it, but that wasn’t real clever.”

I let the insult pass. I knew he didn’t mean for it to be one. “That’s what’s so frustrating. I didn’t put up the quote. Someone else did, apparently to get me into trouble.”

“And they succeeded. I wonder if it was Ingrid. I know she set up the hecklers. That’s the reason I was there.” He suddenly looked embarrassed. “Not to heckle. To head it off.”

I grinned again. “Maybe I should thank her. A lot of those guys were a help, especially the big one.”

He laughed. “They were, weren’t they?” He paused. “On another subject, do you have a date for the Homecoming Dance?”

Wow! That was a surprise. “Are you asking me to the dance?” I mentally cross my fingers.

He didn’t hesitate. “If you’re available, I sure am.”

Then I remembered. “I’d love to, but I’m grounded. I’ll have to ask. Maybe I can get a pass this once.” I could see his disappointment. It thrilled me, not that he was disappointed but that he was that interested in me. “I’ll do my best, but if you find someone else, I’ll understand.”

“I won’t be looking for someone else.” He put his hand on mine.

––– # –––

Mom initially said no. “You understand grounding is a punishment.”

“Yes, but I’m being punished for something I didn’t do. My grounding for the police prank would be over now.”

She didn’t respond right away. Finally she said, “I understand what you’re saying, but I’m not going oppose your father. If you can convince him, I’ll accept that decision.”

Okay, that put me in a difficult position. Mom had finally come around, but I knew arguing with Father was going to be a waste of energy. I didn’t want to set them against each other. That was a recipe for disaster, and to be honest I didn’t think I could convince Mom to do it anyway. “Could you at least tell him you support my request?”

“If he asks for my opinion, I’ll tell him what I think.”

I Knew that was the best I was going to get, so I resigned myself, sighed, and went up to my room.

Father got home just before dinner, leaving no time for discussing the Homecoming Dance until afterwards. While I helped Mom clean up, I had a hard time not hinting that she should talk to Father. When we were finished, I stood waiting. Mom examined me. “Do you want me to talk to him first?”

“If you would tell him I want to talk, I’d definitely appreciate it.”

I was seated at the kitchen table when Father came in. “You want to talk to me?”

I stood. “I do.” I made my request, finishing with, “This is the last big dance in high school except the prom. Up until this graffiti thing, which I did not do, I admit I had earned my groundings. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for an exception to my grounding for this one occasion. Especially since I was grounded based on something I flatly deny doing.”

I stood there waiting. I didn’t have long to wait.

“Denial or not, I don’t feel I can trust you at this time. No, you will complete your punishment before you can go on any date, including special occasions.” He started to turn away.

I was ready to plead. “Father …”

His expression stopped me cold. “This is not open to discussion.” He walked out of the room, leaving me standing there with my mouth open.

I was hurt and disappointed but mostly angry. I rushed up to my room and slammed the door behind me. Seething, I leaned back against the door and made a decision. I was going anyway.

Samantha – Punishment

Originally posted on March 6, 2017 by Gordon Savage

Knowing that arguing or complaining about her ”sentence” would gain her nothing, Samantha gathered her cleaning supplies together and walked to the school on Saturday morning to start her punishment.

When I left home that morning, I was livid. Mom had offered to drive me, but the distance was less than my daily run. So I walked, and it cleared my head. I was still angry, but I made up my mind to get the job done as quickly as I could.

Dr. Ashworth was in his office. I briefly considered trying one more time to convince him I hadn’t done it, but I knew he would ignore any logic, like why would I sign something like that if I had done it. Instead, I checked in, showed him my supplies, and headed out front. On my way out I got a bucket and brush from the custodian’s closet.

What I hadn’t expected was an audience. At least thirty kids from the school had showed up while I was inside. I hadn’t noticed, but their cars had been parked on the street when I showed up. Sure enough, Ingrid Hoffman was among the onlookers.

I unloaded my backpack on the ground in front of the graffiti and filled the bucket from a nearby faucet. While I was doing that, the gallery started up catty conversations about me and what I was doing. I was tempted to turn on them and shout I didn’t do it, but that would have just let them know they were getting to me. Instead, I got to work.

A few minutes later one big jerk from the football team walked up and kicked the bucket over. “Oops.” He grinned scornfully.

I’m not sure what he expected from me, but he didn’t get it. I walked over to him silently and stopped directly in front of him. He was almost a head taller than I, but I glared at him, looking directly in his eyes until he blinked. My voice grated as I said, “You blinked first. Go fill that bucket and bring it back here, now!”

The gallery went dead quiet as if anticipating an explosion. It didn’t come. The galoot picked up the bucket and headed for the faucet. I went back to applying the paint remover. The gallery broke up and headed for their cars. The big guy brought the filled bucket back and followed the crowd. Ingrid was the last to leave.

As she did, Dwayne Lindquist parked across the street and came over. He didn’t acknowledge Ingrid. Instead he came up to me. “Can you use some help?”

I smiled for the first time that day. “Gladly.”

A few minutes later the big guy came back and offered his help. The number of helpers grew to the point we were getting in each other’s way, and I had to turn some of them away. I thanked each one profusely. With all the help we were finished in a little over an hour. I thanked everyone who had helped and headed inside. Dwayne waited.

Dr. Ashworth looked stunned to see me so soon. He almost dragged me out to inspect the work. I had to struggle to keep from laughing as he first got as close as he could and looked the work over, even taking his glasses off to examine what we’d done. Then he moved around viewing from every angle. Finally, he stepped back frowning. “You were supposed to do this by yourself.”

“You didn’t say that, and I’m not a mind reader.”

“It was supposed to be punishment.”

“My job was to get the graffiti off the school wall. I did that. With help, yes, but not getting help wasn’t in the job description.”

He harrumphed. “Well, you can finish off your punishment with detention.”

I put my hands on my hips and faced him. “That wasn’t in the job description either. If you want to punish me further, you’ll have to take it up with my parents. For now I’m going home.”

I walked out of his office with him staring at me with his mouth open. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move I could have made, but it sure felt good.

Dwayne helped me put the custodian supplies away and then drove me home. On a whim I leaned across the console and kissed him before I got out of his car. He acted surprised, but his eyes lit up. Before anything else was said or implied, I got out of the car. I waved goodbye and watched him drive off. Then I turned for the front door.

Mom was waiting for me. “You got home early.”

I could see the curiosity in her eyes. “That was Dwayne Lindquist. He and a few other students helped me get the paint off.”

“And drove you home,” she noted. “Do you like him?”

I thought about that. “Yes, but nothing serious.”

“Well, if you do, I suggest you try to keep out of trouble for a while.”

“Mom, you know I didn’t put that graffiti on the school.”

“I know that, and you know that, but staying out of trouble is the only way you’re going to convince your father. Come to think of it, he may be upset because you got off so easy.”

Now that was a pleasant thought, not!