“She left some brownies for you.”
“Mercy,” he exclaimed, unwrapping the plate. “Whatever did I do to deserve these?”
“She says you appreciate them—unlike the Hat and Mitten committee. They voted against the brownies the other night.”
“Are they crazy?”
“Probably. It was one of those female things. One of my new neighbors, Chris Cashman, is challenging Sue’s authority.”
“Another alpha, hunh?” Ted had taken a big bite of brownie.
“You said it.”
“Well,” he continued, after swallowing. “Pam was awfully nervous that her cookies wouldn’t pass that taste test you had. You women are awfully tough on each other.”
“It was Chris Cashman’s idea to taste-test the recipes and have everyone use the best ones, sort of like Henry Ford. She says we’ll make more money this way, focusing on products with high customer appeal.” Lucy sighed. “But I don’t know if it’s worth the hurt feelings.”
Having finished his brownie, Ted was going through the mail. “Looks like another anonymous letter,” he said, slitting the envelope. He shook his head, reading the letter and passing it over to Lucy. “I wish this person would sign the letters. It would make things a lot easier for us.”
“I know. I’d love to talk to whoever’s sending them,” said Lucy. “The letters are well-written and seem quite sincere.”
“It could be a very clever troublemaker,” said Ted. “Somebody like your alpha neighbor.”
“Her kids are babies,” said Lucy. “I think the sender has a kid on the team. How else would they know about this stuff?”
“They could be making it up,” Ted reminded her.
“Blindfolding kids and making them eat strips of raw liver, telling them it’s worms? Nobody could make up stuff like this except teenage boys.” She thought of Tommy and how willing he was to do whatever it took to stay on the team. “I think the letter writer is telling the truth.”
“You may be right. Do you think there’s a story here?”
“I think there’s a story but I don’t know if I can get it,” said Lucy. “Nobody’s going to admit this stuff is happening.”
“Well, I want you to try. Get over to the school and talk to the principal, okay?”
“Sure. But I can guarantee you I won’t get anything from him.”
“I know. But we’ve got to start somewhere.”
High school principal Bob Berg was tall and weedy; he looked like the sort of skinny guy that cartoon bullies kicked sand at on the beach, but he didn’t tolerate any challenges to his authority. He’d long ago learned to cultivate an air of absolute omniscience; even when he was wrong, he was right. Lucy could have predicted his reaction when she outlined the charges in the anonymous letters. She’d once gotten a similar reaction when she’d tried to give a cat a bath.
“That’s ridiculous,” he sputtered, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “We simply don’t tolerate hazing here at Tinker’s Cove High School in any form whatsoever and whoever is making these accusations is behaving irresponsibly. This is absolutely outrageous.”
Something in his tone brought out the devil in Lucy. “It doesn’t seem that outrageous to me,” she said. “These things happen and it’s entirely possible that it’s happening here. I think any responsible administrator would want to investigate before making an outright denial.”
“I don’t need to investigate. I know there is no hazing of any kind going on at Tinker’s Cove High School.”
“Well, then, you won’t mind if I talk to some of the players,” said Lucy.
“Oh, I can’t allow that. There are confidentiality issues, privacy issues. We don’t allow the press access to our students.”
“That’s not actually true,” said Lucy, as politely as possible. “Students are routinely interviewed for stories about sports and community projects. Why, just last spring I interviewed several students who were working on a Habitat house.”
Faced with indisputable evidence to the contrary, the principal caved. “All right. You can talk to the players but I want to be present.”
“At practice this afternoon?”
“No. Right now. As it happens, several varsity players are working out in the weight room.”
“Without supervision?” asked Lucy.
“These are all honors students,” said Mr. Berg. “They’ve earned the right to use the weight room whenever they wish.”
Lucy felt a bit uncomfortable as she followed him down the long, echoing hallway. She didn’t like barging in on a bunch of teenage boys when they were exercising, and she doubted she’d get much information from them with Mr. Berg listening to every word. On the other hand, this was probably the only chance she was going to get to talk to the players.
They were crossing the empty gym and had almost reached the weight room when Mr. Berg suddenly grabbed his cell phone and checked his messages. “Oh, dear, I’ve got to go,” he said. “Let me just introduce you to our athletes.”
He pulled the door open, revealing a rather scruffy, unventilated room that smelled to high heaven of sweat. This was nothing like the well-equipped gyms with Nautilus machines that Lucy saw advertised on TV. It was simply an empty storage closet with a few weight benches and a set of free weights. The three team members who were working out dropped their weights and stared at the intruders.
“Boys, this is Mrs. Stone, from the paper. She’s here to interview you about the team and I want you to cooperate,” said Mr. Berg. “I have to go see to a problem with the septic system.”
Then he was gone and Lucy was left alone with the three boys. She gave them a little smile. “Like he said, I’m Lucy Stone. And you guys are…?”
The tallest, a muscular kid with a fuzz of black hair who was well over six feet, was the first to speak. “I’m Matt Engelhardt,” he said, resuming his bicep curls. The weight which he seemed to be raising and lowering so effortlessly looked enormous to Lucy. It had to be at least twenty pounds.
Following his lead, the other two players resumed their workouts, too. “I’m Justin Crane,” said a shorter, stockier fellow, who was grunting with the effort of lifting an enormous dumbbell.
“And I’m Will Worthington,” said the last, a tall, freckled kid. He was lying on his stomach on the bench, lifting weights with his legs.
“I guess you’re all seniors?” asked Lucy, producing her notebook.
There was a round of grunts which she took to mean yes.
“Well, the reason I’m doing this story is that there have been some allegations of hazing on the football team. In particular, the rumor goes, the varsity players have been humiliating the JV players and physically abusing them.”
There was an uncomfortable silence in the small room, as the boys continued to work out.
“Do you have anything to say, Will?” asked Lucy, sensing he might be the weak link.
He wasn’t. “No,” he said, glaring at her.
“Does hazing take place, Justin?”
“Not that I know of.”
“What about you, Matt? Have you seen any hazing? Say, making the new players line up and throwing soccer balls at them?”
“We’re football players,” said Matt, getting a laugh from the other guys.