Unspeakable Things(7)
CHAPTER 4
Mrs. Janowski, our principal, strode into the middle of the gym, a smile planted on her face, chubby microphone in her hand. “Welcome to our Summer Safety Symposium, everyone!”
No one listened to her at first. I watched to see how she’d handle it. She didn’t care. She could outlast any one of us; a person could see that by looking at her. When we eventually settled down, she played it like she’d planned it.
“Thank you.” Her smile widened. “Today, our symposium is lucky to host a very special guest speaker, Lilydale’s own Sergeant Bauer.”
A buzz swept through the audience, whispers of “Brody” and “copper,” as if any of us middle schoolers had a reason to fear the police. Besides, I don’t know how the speaker could have been a surprise since Sergeant Bauer had been standing on the sidelines in his full blue uniform since we’d entered the gym. His youngest daughter was in Persephone’s grade—ninth. I knew him from one of my dad’s parties, knew him better than I wanted to.
He smiled and ambled over to hoist the mic from Mrs. Janowski. “Hello, kids,” he boomed. “Who’s ready for summer?”
A hooting and stamping rocked the bleachers.
Sergeant Bauer held up his free hand. The overhead lights glinted off his silver wristwatch. “That’s what I thought,” he said, chuckling. He had one of those thick red smiles that looked irritated by his bristly mustache. “I was a student here myself not that long ago, so I know you’ve earned the upcoming break. But I need you to listen now.”
He tap-tap-tapped the microphone before continuing. “Because this is important. We have a new program this summer, one designed to keep you safe, and I need to tell you about it. It starts with a curfew.”
That incited a wave of grousing, and I bet most kids didn’t even know what a curfew was. They just knew you were supposed to complain when an adult told you something was for your own good. I joined in because what the heck. The teachers, who’d claimed the front row of the bleachers, had to stand and turn to silence us. That’s when I finally laid eyes on Gabriel, down at the lower right. Seeing him made me feel the same warm kind of good as getting a letter from Aunt Jin.
When everyone quieted again, Sergeant Bauer continued, his expression pinched. “The curfew begins at nine p.m. sharp. Every one of you must be in your homes before the sun sets.” Something had shifted in his voice, icing the room.
That sent a quiver up my spine. First, what Betty had said this morning about the boy being raped, and now this. Mom’d told us on the drive over that we didn’t need to worry about anything, but Betty had most definitely seemed concerned. Bauer did, too. He suddenly had our complete attention. He seemed to sense that, pivoting so the pistol at his waist was in full view. The gun looked tiny and pretend from where I was sitting, strapped to his vicious black belt, a leather clasp securing it in place.
I wondered if he’d ever shot anyone.
He swiveled his hips to face us, and I could no longer see his weapon. “You’ll hear the town siren go off,” he continued, “the same one we use for tornadoes. It’ll last one minute, and if you’re still out when it ends, you’ll be in violation.”
There was no silencing the outcry this time. Kids were standing and yelling. I stayed in my seat, the wood solid against my butt bones. Four miles out of town, I wouldn’t be able to hear the siren, had no reason to care about a curfew. I don’t think I would have minded it, though, not if it meant I could live where I could walk to stores or meet kids at the park.
Sergeant Bauer spoke above the squall. “If you are accompanied by a parent or guardian,” he said, “you won’t get in trouble. Make sure you know the adult you’re with.”
I scratched absentmindedly at my neck scar. That was a hoser thing to say. Who walks around at night with adults they don’t know? I stared at his watch again, imagined I could see the black wrist hairs curling around it. He’d been wearing it when I accidentally walked in on him at my dad’s party, that and his dog tags. I bet he hadn’t even noticed me.
All the kids were out of control again, so Mr. Connelly, the band teacher, had to take charge. Everyone loved Mr. Connelly. He was that teacher—young, smart, and talked to us like we were humans. I didn’t have an actual crush on him, though most of the girls in my class did. I just liked how he smelled like cinnamon apple potpourri and had pleats in his khakis. He was wearing them now, stepping onto the gym floor and walking toward Sergeant Bauer, who I swear stiffened as Mr. Connelly approached. I guess the sergeant didn’t want to give up his stage.
He even jerked away when Mr. Connelly put his hand over the microphone and tried to speak into the sergeant’s ear. Whatever Mr. Connelly said worked, though, because he was soon holding the mic.
“Can we please give the officer our full attention?” Mr. Connelly requested.
He had to repeat it four more times, but eventually everyone closed their pieholes.
“Thank you.” Mr. Connelly handed the mic back to the sergeant, who appeared none too grateful.
The sergeant coughed. “As I was saying, it’s important you’re all in by the nine curfew. Me and my fellow officers will be patrolling from 8:30 p.m. on, extra cars out there, looking for kids in violation. Don’t let us catch you.”