J. Gonzalez - Back From The Dead

George glanced at him as he rose from his desk. What’s this about ? Tim shrugged, trying to be casual about it, and stood up.

“Get your books,” Dr. Stokely said.

The room was silent and Tim could feel all eyes on him as he joined Al and George at the front of the room.

“Let’s go,” Dr. Stokely said. He and Mr. Simmons led the three boys out of the classroom and down the hall.

As they headed toward the administrative offices, Tim felt his stomach grow tight. George asked, “What’s going on?”

The Principal and the Dean said nothing as they led the boys to the Administration offices. When they got there Tim’s fear became solid.

Officer Clapton and another police officer were waiting for them in the lobby. The police officers followed them into the Principal’s office.

Al and George looked confused as they were ushered into the office. Tim felt embarrassed for his friends. They were going to be made to suffer for associating with him. He knew it, had a feeling this had to do with the same old bullshit he’d had to put up with for the past five years. Another false accusation had been levied against him, something relating to the cemetery vandalism Officer Clapton had questioned him about a few days ago. Gordon Smith had probably found a way to weasel out of that; it was obvious. Once again, Tim was going to get in trouble for something he didn’t do.

“Sit down, boys,” Dr. Stokely said as he crossed the room to his desk.

“What’s going on?” Tim asked as he sat down. His voice was shaky.

“I’ll get right to the point,” Dr. Stokely said. He looked like he didn’t want to have to be here. Officer Clapton looked the same way. Only Mr. Simmons looked like he wanted to nail Tim to the wall for something.

“We learned from several anonymous sources that the three of you belong to a black magic coven and have been vandalizing private and public property,” Dr. Stokely said, all serious.

“What?” The three boys looked at the adults gathered around them. Al glanced at Tim, then at George, confusion quickly giving way to slow realization.

“Don’t act surprised,” Mr. Simmons said. “Tim’s been getting away with this crap for too long now. How he managed to rope the two of you into this, I have no idea, but it stops now.”

“He didn’t rope us into anything!” George protested.

Dr. Stokely was silent as Mr. Simmons seemed to take over. “For the past year or so, since you’ve been at Spring Valley High, school property has been vandalized. Occult-related graffitti has been drawn on lockers, on bathroom walls. You’ve always denied it, but the evidence shows otherwise.”

“I’m not into the occult!” Tim stated. For the first time he was starting to feel angry.

“The police say that you tried to frame Gordon Smith for that grave robbing incident in Reamstown,” Mr. Simmons said grimly.

Tim looked at Officer Clapton, who appeared nervous. The officer that was with him wasn’t nervous at all. Like Mr. Simmons, he seemed to be under the impression that Tim was Satan incarnate.

“I never made that claim,” Tim said, feeling his gaze drawn to Officer Clapton. “And you know it!”

“True enough,” Officer Clapton said. “When I questioned Gordon, he denied being out that evening and said he’d returned the book you’d loaned to him.”

“That’s a lie!”

“You can’t prove we were even at that cemetery,” George stated calmly.

Dr. Stokely looked at George. “No, that’s the job of the authorities.”

“And we are cooperating with them fully,” Mr. Simmons said.

“Fine, whatever,” George said. He shrugged. He was starting to lose some of that nervousness. “Maybe you should get help from a real police force, though. You know…one that has experience with school vandalism and grave robbing.”

“I don’t appreciate your sarcastic tone, Mr. Ulrich,” Mr. Simmons said.

“And I don’t appreciate you accusing us of something we had nothing to do with.”

Way to go, George , Tim thought. George’s stubborn refusal to not back down was having a positive effect on Tim’s own demeanor. Gone were the butterflies that had settled in his stomach as they’d made their way to the Principal’s office.

“I can have you suspended for disrespecting a school administrator,” Mr. Simmons threatened.

“How am I disrespecting you?”

“By talking back to me.”

“So we don’t have the right to defend ourselves?”

“All we want,” Dr. Stokely said, interrupting brusquely, “is the truth.” He leveled a serious gaze at the three boys, resting his eyes on Tim. “I am quite aware of the false accusations that have been levied against Mr. Gaines.”

“I wouldn’t call the vandalism of Heather Watkins’ locker in which dog shit was smeared all over her books and a pentagram was drawn on the inside door a false accusation,” Mr. Simmons muttered.

“Well, I do call it a false accusation,” Dr. Stokely said, still not breaking his gaze from the three boys. “You weren’t our Dean of Students then.” He turned to Mr. Simmons. “I suggest you stick with incidents that have come to you during your tenure at Spring Valley High, Mr. Simmons, and not rely on incidents I and the school board have already labeled as false!”

Mr. Simmons opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. He glanced at the other cop, then turned his gaze back to Tim.

Tim ignored him. It appeared that since arriving in Dr. Stokely’s office, the principal now had the upper hand.

“Unfortunately, I can’t ignore this most recent incident,” Dr. Stokely continued. “The police found evidence that points to you, Tim. Despite your denial, Gordon Smith has an alibi for that night.”

“So do I,” Tim said. He glanced at Officer Clapton. “We told you last night!”

“What about George and Al?” Dr. Stokely asked.

“I was home that night,” George said, still not breaking his stance.

“So was I,” Al said. He, too, looked like he’d regained his confidence under the heavy scrutiny.

The door to Dr. Stokely’s office opened and Naomi Gaines stepped in. She was dressed in a dark pantsuit; her work-attire for the week. When she saw Tim she rushed over to him, looking concerned, frightened. “Are you okay?”

Dr. Stokely quickly brought her up to speed. As he listed the charges that had been levied against the boys — the allegations of witchcraft, animal sacrifice due to a report that a student’s cat was found disemboweled, and the grave-robbing of the Reamstown cemetery — Naomi’s features quickly turned to anger. She turned to Officer Clapton, who looked embarrassed. “So. It seems I can’t trust you now, either!”

“Mrs. Gaines, if you’ll please have a seat,” Dr. Stokely said.

“No, I won’t have a seat, Dr. Stokely,” Naomi said. “I’m taking Tim home. I will call you this afternoon to arrange a meeting with my husband and I on how we can best finish out the remainder of the school year.”

The officer that was standing with Officer Clapton spoke up. “Mrs. Gaines, my name is Officer Halford. I’d like to request your permission to conduct a search of your home for evidence pertaining to the allegations that have just been levied against your son.”

“Get a search warrant,” Naomi sneered.

“Fine,” Officer Halford said. “I will.”

A man dressed in a white shirt, dark slacks, and a tie stepped in to the room; he looked like an older version of George. When he saw George he crossed the room to his son, who stood up and met his father. A moment later Al’s mother arrived.

Tim couldn’t get out of that room any quicker.

Naomi Gaines was furious.