“Listen,” she said, making eye contact with Frankie, “you don’t have to tell me, and everything here stays here like it’s Las Vegas, but I can’t help wondering if you’re the person who’s been sending anonymous letters to the Pennysaver?”
“Oui, c’est moi.” Frankie grimaced and added a little shrug.
“Mom!”
“The hazing seemed so terrible and I wanted to do something to stop it.” She shook her head. “I thought people would be outraged, but so far, nothing. The paper never printed my letters.”
“We never print anonymous letters. If you’d signed them, we could have witheld your name.”
“Oh.” Frankie nodded, as if making a note for next time. “But then there was the meeting and I was hopeful but nobody would admit anything. I wanted to jump to my feet and yell at them but I knew it wouldn’t do any good, so I left.”
“My husband says it’s because they’re having a winning season.”
“I guess that’s why I’m divorced,” said Frankie. “I never could stand that macho male attitude.”
Lucy nodded agreement, but as she left the LaChance household she couldn’t help thinking a macho male might be exactly what was needed right now. A tough guy who would get the coach’s attention.
CHAPTER 20
When Lucy left Renee and Frankie, she was planning to arrange a meeting with Coach Buck, the Superintendent of Schools, and Preston. She thought Preston, as Tommy’s guardian, would have credibility. But the more she thought about it, the less she thought it was a good idea. Preston also had a reputation as a troublemaker with a bad attitude. He wasn’t exactly an honor student. Add that to the family’s other troubles and she could just imagine Superintendent Sabin’s reaction. Such a meeting would just mean more problems for Tommy and Preston, she decided, halfway down Prudence Path. Instead of continuing to the end of the cul-de-sac she turned around, intending to go home. She changed her mind when she saw Coach Buck pull into his driveway. She quickened her pace and met him at his mailbox.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” she asked.
“Sure,” he said, pulling a pile of catalogs and bills out of the box and flipping through it. “Is this in your capacity as neighbor or reporter or concerned parent?”
Lucy considered. As much as she wanted the hazing story for the Pennysaver she wanted Sara’s happiness even more. “As a parent,” she said. “This is off the record.”
“Good. Do you want to come in?” he asked, tucking his mail into his briefcase.
Lucy hesitated, despite the darkening clouds overhead which threatened rain. She was well aware that the neighbors kept a close eye on each others’ comings and goings. The presence of Bonnie’s Caravan in the driveway, indicating she was home, reassured her. “Okay,” she said.
She followed Coach Buck down the short drive to the kitchen door, which he politely held for her. She stepped into the kitchen, which was identical to Frankie’s without the charming French accents. Bonnie’s kitchen was purely utilitarian, with a Formica dining set and cheap discount-store cubbies for the twins’ schoolbags. It had a sterile, unwelcoming atmosphere, more like a laboratory than a family kitchen. Bonnie herself was standing at the sink, wearing rubber gloves and scrubbing away at the stainless steel rim with a toothbrush.
“Oh,” she said, looking up with a surprised expression. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
“I’m not company,” said Lucy.
“Lucy has some concerns about her daughter,” said Buck. “We’ll go in my office.”
Bonnie shrugged and started rinsing out the sink. Lucy followed Buck through the all-beige living room, which looked like a neatly arranged furniture store display, and down the hall to the tiny third bedroom which he had fitted out as a home office. This room, in contrast to the rest of the house, seemed to reflect the Coach’s personality. Plaid curtains added a touch of color, there was an un-tidy pile of papers on the faux fruitwood assemble-it-yourself computer desk and hutch, and a matching bookcase filled with trophies and photos. Buck sat in his black vinyl desk chair and swiveled to face her, indicating she should sit in a captain’s chair with the Boston University seal on the back. She sat down, realizing too late that she didn’t know where to begin.
“What’s the problem?” he asked. Despite the touch of gray at his temples and the crow’s feet in the corners of his eyes, Coach Buck’s pinkish face had an innocent, boyish look, as if his mother had just finished scrubbing behind his ears.
“I think you know what the problem is,” said Lucy, suddenly angry. “It’s the hazing. I know what happened on the bus to the Lake Wingate game. The players are harassing the cheerleaders, the varsity players are hazing the JV boys, and you not only tolerate it, you encourage it.”
“Whoa,” he said, holding up a hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not aware of any incident on the bus.” He shrugged. “I must have been studying the play book.”
“Napping is more like it from what I hear,” snapped Lucy. “Or pretending to, while the players tease the girls. Don’t tell me you weren’t leering with all the rest when Renee flashed her breasts…”
“Like I said, I was studying the play book.” He gave her a rather weak smile. “From what I hear, she’s a bit loose, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, so it’s her fault that she and the other cheerleaders are constantly harassed by the players. It began with talk, then it progressed to groping and now it’s flashing. And I’m supposed to believe you’re unaware of all this, when there have been meetings and discussions about hazing. It’s intolerable and it has to stop.”
“Teenagers are very sneaky, I’m sure you know that. They manage to defy our best efforts…”
“Don’t give me that. You’re not making any effort at all to stop it. There are plenty of schools that control this sort of thing. It doesn’t have to happen. But for some reason you’re not only tolerating it, you’re encouraging it.” She narrowed her eyes. “Some of the players are starting to talk.”
“Are you threatening me?” he asked, just as Bonnie appeared in the doorway, still wearing the rubber gloves and holding a tray with two mugs and a Tupperware sugar and cream set.
“Coffee?” she asked, with the bright intonation of a flight attendant. “I thought you might like some.”
“Isn’t that thoughtful? My wife is a treasure,” said Coach Buck.