Originally posted on February 20, 2017 by Gordon Savage
Samantha had had a good scare. She had also violated her curfew and she knew she was in real trouble. Instead of chewing her out on the way home, her father let her stew. By the time they pulled into the garage, she was in tears.
I was afraid to get out of the car because I knew what was coming. Father walked around to the passenger side and, after he opened the door for Mom, he opened my door. Grim faced, he pointed at the doorway into the house. Reluctantly I released my seatbelt and followed Mom in.
Inside, Father pointed to the living room. I headed that way knowing I had better not say anything. I stopped in front of the couch and stood at attention, showing I knew what was coming – but I didn’t. He walked around me as though I was being inspected. Finally, he stopped in front of me. I stared straight ahead, which meant I was looking at his mouth.
The lines around it were hard, and his brows were furrowed. “You know how much trouble you’re in.” It wasn’t a question. “You broke curfew by a whole hour before you harassed two police officers. You drug one of your friends in with you and got her in trouble as well. What do you have to say for yourself?”
I knew that whatever I said wouldn’t absolve me. “I … have no excuse, sir. I screwed up.”
He surprised me by smiling. “I don’t know what to do with you. That prank was so funny, but you did break curfew.” He paused briefly. “Do you have any excuse for breaking curfew?”
“No sir, I just wasn’t watching my time.”
My answer seemed to satisfy him. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. For blowing curfew you’re grounded for the next six weeks.” Six weeks! No way! I did a quick check of my mental calendar. That meant I’d miss the homecoming dance. I almost objected, but he continued, and was I glad he did. “However, your prank was harmless and actually kind of clever, so I’m knocking two weeks off. You’re grounded for a month.”
He must have seen my relief. “But I want to make something very clear. The legal definition of harassment requires it to be repeated. That, and the fact that this was your first run in with the police, was the reason you got off with a warning. Any new pranks on the police, and not necessarily the same kind, could legally be classified as harassment. So be careful around the police. Do you understand?”
All I could do was nod.
“Good, now get to bed. … We’ll go pick up the Mustang from impound tomorrow. Incidentally, any cost comes out of your allowance.”
––– # –––
I was so relieved I missed that last part and went right to sleep. Father knocked on my door at six in the morning. After breakfast we went straight to the impound lot and picked up the Mustang. There were no fines, but there was a towing fee. $90 took a healthy toll on my allowance.
It didn’t matter much. I was stuck in the house or at school for the next month. Unfortunately, trouble was waiting for me at school. It hit two weeks into my grounding.
“Samantha Pederson report to the principal’s office.” The announcement came over the public address while I was putting my books away for lunch. What now? I closed my locker and made my way to the school offices.
Ms. Farrow was standing at the counter when I came in. She was a heavy set woman in her late fifties. She was wearing a green sheath that did nothing to hide her bulges. Her hair was died auburn and she wore it shoulder length. Her eyes were a pale brown, and I could catch the glint of contacts in them. “The principal wants to see me?” I made it a question.
She pointed to a bench across from the counter. “Have a seat. I’ll notify Principal Ashworth you’re here.”
I sat … and waited. It was at least fifteen minutes before Dr. Ashworth came out of his office. Stern faced, bald, and overweight, he walked up to me like a charging rhino. He was wearing a dress shirt and a tie, and I could see where the shirt was soaked with sweat under his armpits. “Come with me young lady.” He headed for the door without slowing down. I had to rush to catch up.
We went out the front entrance and turned left. A few feet from the steps he pointed to the brick wall. “What’s the meaning of this?” It was a spray painted version of a quote from Winston Churchill, “Men stumble over the truth from time to time, but most pick themselves up and hurry off as if nothing happened.”
“It’s a quote from Churchill. He claimed that people avoid the truth they don’t want to believe.”
He smiled at me ravenously as if I had just swallowed the bait. “So you know this quote?”
“One of my favorites.”
His smile became even more predatory. He pointed to the end of the quote. There were three letters: “SRP.” “Aren’t those your initials, Samantha Ruth Pederson?”
I’m not slow. I just hadn’t noticed them. A chill went through me. “Now wait a minute. I didn’t write that.”
He stood with his hands on his hips and continued smiling as if he had just tricked me into confessing. “I checked. You are the only student in the school with those initials, and you just admitted it’s your favorite quote.”
“But I didn’t write that, and if I had I certainly would not have been stupid enough to end it with my own initials.”
“Who else would have a reason to put your initials there?” He turned toward the steps. “Come along. I need to talk to your parents.”
“But I didn’t do it.”