The rain beat down harder on the roof, not a good sign. I took her hand and pressed something into it.
The little silver button from Lena’s vest, that I’d found in the Beater’s cracked upholstery, the night we met in the rain. It looked like a piece of junk, but I had carried it in my jeans pocket ever since.
Here. It’s sort of a good luck charm. At least it brought something good to me.
I could see how hard she was trying not to crack. Without a word, Lena took off her chain and added it to her own collection of valuable junk.
Thanks. If she could have smiled, she would have.
I made my way back toward the row where the Sisters and Amma were sitting. Aunt Grace stood up, resting on her cane. “Ethan, over here. We saved you a seat, darlin’.”
“Why don’t you sit down, Grace Statham,” an old blue-haired woman sitting behind the Sisters hissed.
Aunt Prue turned around. “Why don’t you mind your own business, Sadie Honeycutt, or I will mind it for you.”
Aunt Grace turned to Mrs. Honeycutt and smiled. “Now you come right on over here, Ethan.”
I squeezed in between Aunt Mercy and Aunt Grace. “How you holdin’ up, Sweet Meat?” Thelma smiled and pinched my arm.
Thunder crashed outside, and the lights flickered. A few old women gasped.
An uptight-looking guy sitting in the middle of the big folding table cleared his throat. “Just a little hiccup in the power is all. Why doesn’t everyone kindly take their seats so we can get started. My name is Bertrand Hollingsworth, and I’m Head a the School Board. This meeting’s been called to respond to the petition requestin’ the expulsion of a Jackson student, a Miss Lena Duchannes, is that right?”
Principal Harper addressed Mr. Hollingsworth from his seat at the table, the Prosecution, or more accurately, Mrs. Lincoln’s hangman. “Yes, sir. The petition was brought to my attention by several concerned parents, and it was signed by over two hundred a Gatlin’s most respected parents and citizens, and a number of Jackson students.” Of course it was.
“What are the grounds for expulsion?”
Mr. Harper flipped some pages on his yellow legal pad like he was reading a rap sheet. “Assault.
Destruction a school property. And Miss Duchannes was already on probation.”
Assault? I didn’t assault anyone.
It’s just an accusation. They can’t prove anything.
I was on my feet before he even finished. “None of that’s true!”
Another jumpy-looking guy at the other end of the table raised his voice to be heard over the rain, and the twenty or thirty old women whispering about my bad manners. “Young man, have a seat. This is not a free-for-all.”
Mr. Hollingsworth pressed on over the din. “Do we have any witnesses to substantiate these accusations?” Now there were more than a few people whispering to each other to see if anyone knew what “substantiate” meant.
Principal Harper cleared his throat awkwardly. “Yes. And recently, I received information that indicates Miss Duchannes had similar problems at the school she previously attended.”
What is he talking about? How do they know anything about my old school?
I don’t know. What happened at your old school?
Nothing.
A woman from the School Board flipped through some papers in front of her. “I think we’d like to hear from Jackson’s Parent Partnership President, Mrs. Lincoln, first.”
Link’s mom stood up dramatically and walked down the aisle toward the Gatlin Grand Jury. She had seen a few courtroom dramas on TV, herself. “Good evenin’, ladies and gentlemen.”
“Mrs. Lincoln, can you tell us what you know about this situation, since you are one of the original petitioners?”
“Of course. Miss Ravenwood, I mean, Miss Duchannes, moved here several months ago, and since then there have been all sorts a problems at Jackson. First, she broke a window in the English class—”
“That came close to cuttin’ my baby to shreds,” Mrs. Snow called out.
“It came close to seriously injurin’ several children, and many a them suffered cuts from the broken glass.”
“No one except Lena was injured and that was an accident!” Link yelled from where he was standing in the back of the room.
“Wesley Jefferson Lincoln, you better go home right now if you know what’s good for you!” Mrs.
Lincoln hissed.
She regained her composure, smoothing her skirt, and turned to face the Disciplinary Committee.
“Miss Duchannes’ charms seem to work quite well on the weaker sex,” Mrs. Lincoln said with a smile.
“As I was sayin’, she broke a window in the English classroom, which frightened the students so much that a number of civically minded young ladies took it upon themselves to form the Jackson Guardian Angels—a group whose sole purpose is to protect the students at Jackson. Like a Neighborhood Watch.”
The Fallen Angels nodded in unison from their seats on the bleachers like someone was pulling invisible strings attached to their heads, which, in a way, someone was.