Chapter 3

The Character Assembly

While students struggled into the wobbly chairs, a lone girl snuck through the auditorium doors and dashed into shadow behind all the seats. She pressed her body against the cold concrete wall all the way in the back and tried to remember how to breathe.

“Find a seat—any seat!” the teachers shouted above the din of student chatter.

The students quieted somewhat, but even the teachers were upstaged by the stentorian roar of Jared Winters, the former football captain, calling his former teammates to his side. As the jocks sauntered to the left wing of the auditorium, the most popular girls congregated at the back. The lone girl hiding in shadows pricked up her ears: they seemed preternaturally active, hearing every horrible thing spoken about her.

“It’s Heather’s fault that Jared was kicked off the team,” one of the girls said, standing right in front of the shadowed Heather. Her red lips pouted, and she pointed to Jared with her eyes. “I heard he lost his college scholarship. If I were him, I’d want Heather to have an accident. A bad one!”

“Totally,” agreed one of her companions, smoothing out her hair. “I heard, like, the school’s going to recognize her at this assembly. I think she should be expelled or something. She’s a traitor. How could anyone turn against her own school like that?”

The newspaper’s assistant editor, Melanie Williams, added her opinion. “If this were a novel, she’d totally be the antagonist. The school should, like, expel her.”

The girls stood so close that their strong, fruity shampoo nauseated Heather, and their bodies radiated the heat of their anger. The shadows squeezed against Heather, and the walls closed in.

A girl snapped her gum and looked around. “This year, we had a shot at our third state championship in a row. Like, no other school can say that! I can’t believe we might have to forfeit last year’s title. What a—” But she had to watch her language because there were teachers everywhere, something for which the hiding Heather Primm was thankful.

“I would be ashamed to show my face around here.” The first girl flicked her hair and scowled. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Heather ended up beat up in the alley behind the dumpster. She’d better watch her back.”

“Ah, but,” added a timid freshman who had contributed an article or two to the school’s newspaper. “Don’t you think it’s punishment enough? I mean, all the athletes hate her now. And if she is recognized at today’s assembly, everyone will hate her for exposing Jared’s steroid use—and getting our title stripped. With every step she takes inside this school, the pain of what she’s done must be excruciating.”

The other girls huffed.

“I just think, like, someone of her talent should be more responsible in how she applies it.” Melanie rolled her eyes. “If I had her writing ability, I wouldn’t waste it exposing things no one wants exposed. At least now, she’s totally ruined her chances of being editor next year.”

“She’s not even on the newspaper staff,” the little freshman reminded them.

“No.” Melanie scowled. “But, like, with the success of her blog, everyone thought she was going to join the staff this year. The newspaper advisor was going to talk to Guidance about it. I guess now with all that’s happened—Mrs. Williams wouldn’t dare! Like, I would hate to have her join the staff and be promoted to editor or something. I’ve been waiting for four years just to be assistant editor. It would be totally unfair.”

Another agreed. “She wouldn’t dare. Besides, have you seen how upset Adam Hollowcast has been lately? You’d think he’d be happy now that he’s the captain of the football team, and only a junior, too. But even he can’t stand what Heather’s done!”

At the insistence of the teachers, the girls walked toward the seats all the way in the front row. They smoothed out their clothes and hair, and checked their makeup and cell phones as they walked.

“Millie’s home sick,” one of the girls announced as she flipped her finger across the screen. “But I promised I’d text her as soon as anything good happened to Heather. I hope she trips or something.” She turned toward the back of the auditorium, and her lips curled into a cruel smile.

In the shadows, Heather wrapped her arms around her abdomen, trying to calm a gurgling stomach.

Throughout the auditorium, the students waited for the assembly to begin. The low rumble of gossip echoed through the antiquated room, but mercifully it had silenced enough that the girl in the shadows could no longer hear the individual conversations. The students were still talking when the guest speaker made his way to the stage. His suit and tie indicated his status, and as he mounted the stage, the students quieted.

Wilson Johnson, the student body president, stood on stage to greet the visitor. “It is my pleasure to introduce our guest speaker for today.”

The girl in the shadows swallowed hard. Wilson paused and squinted at the audience as if his eyes were searching for someone. Reluctance reflected in his face as if he resented his current task, and Heather fought a tinge of guilt.

“Our special guest is a member of the Massachusetts Chapter of the National Association of Integrity in Journalism. It’s a rare occasion that a member of such an organization would be visiting a high school…” Wilson paused here, as if he might not finish speaking aloud what was written on his index card. But he took a deep breath, averted his eyes, and continued. “We should all be proud that a member of our very own high school acted in such a way to earn such a prestigious visit. So without further ado, I’d like to introduce Mr. Dan Soothe.”

A spattering of awkward claps filled the silence as Dan Soothe stepped into the spotlight.

“Good morning, Thunderbolts!” he shouted into the microphone.

An ear-piercing squeal reverberated through the speakers. Mr. Soothe frowned and studied his notes to pretend he couldn’t hear the students moaning. Then he looked out onto the audience, seeming to consider each group separately. His eyes lingered on the popular girls up front, the jocks at the side, the Goths in the corner. His eyes seemed contemplative. There was some hesitancy in his face that the girl in the shadows could read well enough to explain. He was afraid he would hurt her. He was afraid the recognition would be a hindrance to Heather rather than a help. But his opinions didn’t matter. As Heather had been informed, the Chapter voted unanimously to confer its most prestigious honor on Heather Primm of Orchard Valley High School, and Mr. Soothe’s duty was to see the matter through.

Mr. Soothe cleared his throat again before continuing, more softly this time. “Today, you have access to an amount of information inconceivable to older generations. You have cell phones, instant messages, email, blogs, news sites, not to mention traditional print sources and a twenty-four hour news cycle. Amidst it all, it’s difficult to keep one’s integrity. Often times, journalists decide to report on what’s popular, or what will bring them positive attention. It takes a rare journalist to divulge the truth without regard for personal consequences.”

At this pause, the squeaky door opened in the back of the auditorium. Myriad eyes turned to stare as Principal Elders appeared in silhouette in the doorframe. With the gesture of his hand, another figure stepped out of the shadows. Principal Elders put a hand on the figure’s shoulder, and the silence in the auditorium grew excruciating.

The two shadows stepped forward, and the door slammed shut, blocking the light which had obscured them from view. A spotlight from the control room above illuminated the mysterious figures, and then only hushed whispers echoed as all eyes watched Principal Elders and Heather Primm walk slowly from the back of the auditorium.

Though she was now the center of attention, Heather worked hard to appear calm. Her dark hair fell smoothly over her shoulders, and she kept her face somber and even. She knew the power of her beauty. It was a look that defied classification into any social clique. She often earned attention from members of the opposite sex. She blinked her eyes, large and inquisitive, drawing in the entire world and all those who caught her gaze. She set her lips and brow in such a way that determination, kindness, and beauty emanated from her.

Though her natural looks could have made her the most popular girl in school, the whimsy of her personality kept her one step removed from social life at Orchard Valley. She often wore vintage clothing which she bought and tailored to suit her peculiar style. Today’s outfit was a royal blue blazer embellished with gold buttons. She looked more suited to anchor a news show than to attend high school, as her mother had reproachfully told her that morning. Her pants were not quite casual and not quite dressy, giving her a bohemian look that seemed to elevate her above the petty concerns of high school fashion.

But the overall blue coloring of her outfit clashed dreadfully with the red-and-black of the rest of the school-spirited auditorium, and that fact brought the semblance of a smile—perhaps only a sneer—to her lips. The spotlight that now illuminated her descent toward the stage spilled into the audience just enough to show her the glowing eyes of her classmates. Some seemed to stare with awe at her beauty or conviction. Others, with jealousy. Heather even felt a few eyes stare with hatred.

But they all stared.

As they did, Mr. Soothe continued speaking on stage. “I’m happy to present this year’s Excellence in Journalism Award to its youngest recipient in the history of our organization: Heather Primm!”

Students clapped, but their applause was swallowed by the silence of the room. Principal Elders pushed Heather forward, but she repelled him with the flick of her shoulder and walked down the sloping auditorium aisle under her own power. Hushed whispers joined the creaking seats as students shifted to follow Heather’s slow descent to the front of the room. Mr. Soothe pulled at his collar, dabbing sweat on his forehead and neck. He was obviously unaccustomed to ear-deafening silence at events like these.

As for Heather, she continued her slow journey—one that seemed excruciatingly painful with all those silent eyes upon her—until she stopped just in front of the stage. Mr. Soothe nodded down at her from his place on the stage and continued speaking. Heather turned around to face the myriad eyes of her peers, but she did not yet climb the stage. The edge of the spotlight danced in her hair, and she peered out through the circle of illumination.

Principal Elders, who had followed a few steps behind Heather, continued up onto the stage. A chair behind Mr. Soothe creaked as Principal Elders sat. Heather felt the burn of his gaze even without looking back.

Mr. Soothe cleared his throat. “I’m sure you’re all well aware of Heather Primm’s blog, Heather’s Letters.”

At the mention of the infamous blog, the auditorium filled with chatter. Heather’s blood burned in her cheeks. She turned to Principal Elders, but he offered no help.

“Now then.” Mr. Soothe cleared his throat against the chatter. “Just before the start of the school year, just as football practice was getting under way, Heather discovered that some students on the football team were gaining an unfair advantage by using performance enhan—”

“Boooo!” one of the football players moaned.

Other members of his team took up the call.

A teacher made a half-hearted effort to silence them.

“As your high school has enjoyed the limelight of two consecutive state championships, this was a disturbing discovery. A discovery many would have ignored.”

Heather glanced back. Principal Elders had lowered his eyes, apparently captivated by the stitching on his shoe.

“And yet Heather had the integrity to bring into the open the possibility that these championships may not have been fairly earned,” Mr. Soothe said.

This last statement prompted even more feedback from the audience, including hissing from the girls in the front row and fake sneezes by the football team to mask their shouted profanities. Heather shrank from the crowd, taking two steps backwards until her back was pressed flat against the stage.

They hissed and hissed at her, and Heather turned, keeping her gaze on the principal; but from his expression Principal Elders seemed not to hear it. Or maybe—judging by the slight way the corner of his lips drew up in the smallest of smiles—he did.

“It took great bravery to break such a story.” Mr. Soothe’s voice shook, and his lips twitched as if he were trying to remain composed. His brow creased in anger as he gazed at the audience, and he had to take a deep breath before continuing. “And while it may not win her popularity, at least she can take pride knowing that she worked with integrity, always in pursuit of the truth. And so Heather Primm, I call you upon the platform to accept your award.”

Heather’s eyes turned to the crowd. It silenced immediately. Some students seemed to look upon her in simple amusement, glad to be out of class for an hour. Others looked upon her the way one looks upon a car wreck, with an uncontrollable pull towards the macabre. Some seemed to draw their lips up ever so slightly, as if they could sympathize with Heather’s agony. But mostly, the students in front—the popular girls and the jocks—looked upon her with malicious enjoyment, for now her transgression against school spirit was being called out into the open, and they could not wait to witness her demise.

Heather stifled a shudder and turned slowly, mounting the five stairs up to the stage. Her footsteps echoed throughout the auditorium, accompanied only by the groaning of the wooden seats, which seemed to be crying out in anguish, vocalizing what she could not.

On the stage, Heather was blinded by the spotlights. She raised her hand to her forehead to block the glare. As her pupils adjusted, however, she took relief: the lights, so painfully bright, blocked her view of the audience, save for the first few rows of spectators. The world moved in slow motion. The speaker on stage was saying something else now, and the students were applauding half-heartedly. Mr. Soothe was presenting something to Heather now, and as if without her approval, Heather’s hands reached forth and grasped it. Not until it was in her hand did Heather see what it was: a black onyx obelisk standing on a base of ivory. On the base plate was inscribed in blinding gold:

Excellence in Journalism

HEATHER PRIMM

National Association of Integrity in Journalism

Massachusetts Chapter

The light from the trophy reflected into Heather’s eyes, and she squeezed them shut, hoping that when she opened them, she’d wake up in bed as the victim of a mere nightmare. But that was not her reality. She was a victim of something far worse.

And so as Mr. Soothe continued his speech and presentation on personal integrity, Heather stood on the stage with a single spotlight dedicated to broadcasting her body and her trophy to the eyes of all the school. The spotlight’s blinding brightness allowed her to enter her own sphere of existence. She blocked out the words of the man on stage as she blocked out the eyes of the students who hated her. Instead, her mind relieved itself of its present terror by delving into memories, even the worst of which was far more pleasant than her current circumstance.

Her most pleasant memory came in the form of a small girl, her sister Ruby. Ruby was a first-grader and idolized Heather in every way. Just like Heather, Ruby wanted to be a journalist. At home, she created a colorful weekly “newspaper” called The Ruby Review for which Heather agreed to serve as editor-in-chief. Heather spent so much time with Ruby while their mother was at work that Heather had become almost like a mother to the girl. No matter how bad her day might be, spending time with Ruby in the afternoon made Heather happy.

And, of course, her time with Rue was usually spent with someone else as well. Someone Rue loved as a brother. Someone Heather had loved in a different way. Someone who sat in the crowd but whose eyes Heather dared not seek in the present circumstance.

Adam Hollowcast.

Heather and Adam had been friends since grade school, but over the summer their friendship had started blossoming into something more. Last year, Adam played only a modest role on the football field, but Heather cheered him on nonetheless. His sport was baseball, and Heather couldn’t wait to watch him in the spring.

Heather and Adam had talked about the Homecoming Dance, and it was understood—at least, it had been understood—that they would go together. Heather and Ruby even discussed the evening, planning the color and style dress Heather should wear, the restaurant Heather and Adam would go to, the places they might hang out after the dance, but all that was likely to change now.

Until recently, Adam went to Heather’s house after summer football practice—always tired and sore and discouraged. And Heather had always been supportive. It was in the month before school started that she and Adam had that fateful discussion.

“Don’t be discouraged,” Heather had told him as he massaged his aching calf.

Adam and Heather escaped the heat by sitting in the kitchen right near the air conditioner. Ruby watched from the living room couch but kept her space.

Heather smiled. “Besides, baseball is your sport. Wait ’til spring. You’ll be the star of the school!”

“It isn’t that I’m not a star on the football team.” Adam sighed, trying to avoid eye contact. “I never wanted to be a star. It’s just that with all my hard work, I’m still so mediocre compared to the rest of the team.”

Heather had looked at Adam then, scrutinized every inch of him. He was handsome and muscular, and his face was nicely chiseled. His brown hair, tousled from football practice, hung fashionably over his left eye, and as his fingers clasped a glass of lemonade, the muscles in his forearm rippled. Heather swooned. But there was something hidden in his face, something Heather couldn’t quite read.

He bit his lip. “I’ve got to tell you something.”

“Okay,” Heather shrugged.

“No.” Adam shook his head. “It’s really serious.”

Both sets of eyes turned to the living room couch to see if Ruby was still listening, but the young girl was nowhere in sight.

“You can tell me anything,” Heather reminded him. She put her hand on his and felt the electric charge run through her skin. But Adam seemed too preoccupied to notice.

“It’s the other guys,” he said. “Almost a quarter of the team…”

“What about them?”

“They–” Adam averted his eyes. “Well, there’s a reason they’re so big. A reason they’re so good at football. A reason we won two years in a row.”

“A reason?”

Adam hesitated and looked away. “They’re not playing fair,” he said finally without making eye contact. “They showed me this summer at a party at Jared’s house. They offered me some, but I didn’t take any.”

“Steroids?” Heather whispered.

Adam nodded.

The room fell silent.

“Why don’t you tell someone?”

“Like who?”

“Like your coach.”

“There’s no way Coach Perry doesn’t suspect what’s happening. I’m pretty sure he just wants to turn a blind eye to it. What coach wouldn’t want to win another state championship?”

“Tell Principal Elders, then,” Heather suggested.

“What principal wouldn’t want another state championship? All the attention it’s brought the school is just what Principal Elders wants.”

Heather frowned. “So you’re just going to let it go?”

Adam shrugged. “What difference does it make? What can I do?”

Heather raised an eyebrow. “I could run a story about it on my blog.”

“Your blog?”

“Heather’s Letters has hundreds of readers now.”

“But your blog is just about your own personal reflections,” Adam said.

“And Ruby’s pictures,” Heather reminded him.

“And Ruby’s pictures. But that’s all it is. You never write news stories.”

“There’s never been a need to. There are plenty of other places that break the news. But this is my type of story. Like my dad always told me about the truth.”

Adam averted his eyes. “I’m not sure.”

“Why?”

“If I come forward with this, it’ll be the end of me. At least on the football team.”

“But you’d be doing the right thing.” Heather sighed. “It’s not fair for people like you who work hard. Or for the other teams. And it’s dangerous for the guys that dope up.”

Adam groaned. “It’ll still be the end of me.”

From behind the couch, Ruby sneezed.

Heather gasped. “Ruby Primm! Have you been there the whole time?”

Ruby crawled out from behind the couch, her face red. “May-beeee.”

“How much did she hear?” Adam’s voice sounded strained, and his eyes wide and paranoid.

“What does it matter? She’s only in first grade. She doesn’t even know what steroids are.”

“She could still tell,” Adam said.

Heather moved her hand away from Adam. This was not like him at all. He loved Ruby like a sister, and he’d never known her to gossip.

“You’ve got to make her keep quiet.” Adam spit out the words frantically, his eyes darting around like a caged animal’s.

“What’s wrong with you, Adam? Rue probably doesn’t have any idea what we’re talking about, and even if she did—”

Adam got up, dismissing the suggestion with a nervous wave. “I’ve got to go. Forget I ever told you anything. Just forget it.”

But Heather hadn’t forgotten it. Over the next few days, she got the whole story out of Adam. She found the name of the student supplying the steroids, the names of all who had taken them. She wrote up the story and saved it on her laptop, ready to copy it into her blog and hit Publish. She needed only one thing.

“The story will be so much more credible if I have a source,” she told Adam over the phone one night.

Adam breathed heavily into the receiver. Ever since he mentioned the story to Heather, he’d been quieter than usual, much less affectionate. “I can’t, Heather. They’re my friends. My teammates. It’ll be the end of me.”

Their relationship had been strained ever since Adam came forward with the news. Adam had closed himself off, and Heather was anxious to share the story. It was pulling them apart. Heather wanted things to go back to the way they were, but news this big was like a wall thrust between them. They had to do something about it before they could move on with their lives.

“Why don’t you come over, Adam? You can read my blog entry and see what you think before I post it, and then maybe we can just relax. Watch a movie. Or just talk.” Ever since he’d mentioned the scandal, Adam stopped talking about Homecoming. Heather had been hoping he’d ask her soon. Already, couples at school were finding sweet ways of asking each other to the dance, and Heather was starting to feel left out.

At Heather’s house, Adam stretched out on the couch next to her. Heather set her laptop on his lap, and he read the blog entry while Heather stroked his feet with her own, trying to find the mood they had shared earlier that summer. Adam frowned at first, but Heather rested her head on his shoulder, bringing a slight smile to his lips. When Adam finished reading, he put his arm around her and agreed to sign his name as the source.

“I’m so glad,” Heather said. “Once this is out in the open, we’ll be able to focus on getting back to the way things were. I mean, you’ll probably quit the team, right?”

“Quit the team?” Adam grew pale.

“I can’t imagine you’d want to stay on the team after breaking a story like this.”

“Quit the team,” Adam repeated, his lips trembling.

“You can keep in shape for baseball on your own. Maybe we can work out together. And we can hang out together, just like before this mess started with the football team.”

“Quit the team…” Adam mumbled. His arm went limp around Heather.

“Adam, what’s wrong?” Heather reached for his hand, but he pulled away.

“I changed my mind. I don’t want you to use my name. I’m sorry.” He sprung up from the couch without looking at her. “I just can’t go through with it.”

Without another word, he hurried out the door, and from where Heather sat it looked like his hands were trembling.

Heather sat up late that night staring at her blog entry. She had omitted Adam’s name as the source, but she kept all the rest. She pasted it into her blog and stared at the Publish button until her eyes felt like sandpaper. She tried to think about pleasant things like Homecoming or college, but all she could see was that yellow button with red letters screaming at her. Publish. Challenging her. Publish. Her father’s advice echoed through her mind. Be who you are. Stick to the truth. Her lips drew back, half-snarl, half-smile; and with a quiet squeal she clicked the button. She hurried to bed, trying to forget the whole thing, trying to pretend it was just an ordinary blog post. But deep down she knew. Without meaning to, she had set the world on fire.

While she slept, the blog entry turned viral. By the next week the football team was placed under formal investigation, the end result of which was that Jared and his friends had been kicked off the team. A second investigation had been launched to determine the validity of the previously-won state championships, regional media had picked up the story, and Heather was now standing on the stage under a blinding spotlight holding a trophy and enduring the scrutiny of her classmates.

On stage, Mr. Soothe was still droning on about journalism and personal integrity. He was telling an anecdote that Heather couldn’t quite follow against her nerves. Instead, she fell prey to more sinister memories.

These memories involved not her heartthrob Adam, but her next-door neighbor, Raymond Burton Childress, or Burton as he preferred to be called. During the summer, Heather earned money by babysitting. But with her mother working full-time, finding a ride to her clients’ homes was not an easy task. Heather had caught the eye of Burton, now a senior at Orchard Valley. He had a sizeable garden in his back yard. Once, when Heather was taking a walk in the field out behind her house he started a conversation.

He seemed pleasant enough, and before long he’d offered to drive her to her babysitting jobs. For Heather, Burton was just a kind neighbor who seemed to share Heather’s love for the outdoors. But for Burton, Heather learned, it was a labor of love—anything to spend an extra minute with the beautiful girl next door.

It was on one of these hot August rides that Burton learned Heather was about to break a big story. Heather had been finishing up a phone call with Rue, and as soon as she hung up, her fingers flew across her keypad as she sent a text. Though he couldn’t gather the details, Burton was crafty, and he easily surmised that Heather was on to something big.

“I want in,” he said as soon as Heather put down her phone.

“What?”

He took his eyes off the road. “Whatever it is, I want in.”

“Why?” Heather asked.

“When school starts I’ll be a senior, and I’ve been trying to make a name for myself. Those pricks on the school newspaper won’t ever give me an editor’s position. It’s because of my ear.” He spun his head around, revealing his left ear, which was deformed and scarred. Most of the lobe was missing, and the edge of it was frayed and discolored with scars from being stitched. The healed-but-jagged skin continued around the edge of the ear the whole way around.

It looked as though someone had once tried to cut it off with a knife.

He turned back to the road. “It’s just ’cause I don’t look like a fashion model like the rest of them,” Burton sighed.

Heather nodded. “I wouldn’t put it past them. Some of them are that shallow.”

Burton smiled to find sympathy from a girl as beautiful as Heather.

“Whatever happened to your ear, anyway?” Heather asked.

Burton’s smile faded, but otherwise he gave no indication that he had heard Heather at all. “The stories I’ve written for the paper aren’t ever popular,” he continued as if Heather hadn’t spoken. “So I thought—maybe if I could help break this big story you’re working on, it’s at least something that might help me stand out—something I could put down on an application to help me get into college. My applications are due in a few months, and I really need something to make me stand out.”

Heather considered. Poor Burton was such a brainiac that he never really fit in. Heather had never seen him with any girls, and he often ate lunch alone. Heather relied on her good looks and keen perception to mesh into the high school social structure, but she had never fully fit in. Not really. She disliked the social castes that lent themselves to high school, and part of her wanted to help Burton. But thinking of Adam melted her resolve. “I don’t think so,” she said after a moment. “I have to protect my source.”

Burton was quiet the rest of the car ride, and Heather thought nothing of it until he pulled into the driveway of the family for which Heather was babysitting.

“Then at least go to the Homecoming Dance with me,” he said.

The strange timing and suddenness of the request—and the desperation seeping through his voice—threw Heather off and made her respond much more quickly than she should have.

“No,” she muttered, biting her lip. “I’m already going with someone else.”

“Maybe you’re that shallow, too.” He traced his shriveled ear with his index finger.

But Heather didn’t stick around long enough to answer. She got out of the car and thanked him for the ride, but the only thing that greeted her thanks was a sinister, piercing look in Burton’s eyes. It pierced her like an icy winter wind and had all the hospitality of the last of the leaves in late autumn clinging to a darkened branch.

That was the last time Burton had given her a ride anywhere, and since the school year started, Heather hadn’t seen him. He had been absent for the first weeks of school, or else the boy had made a ghost of himself, probably avoiding her on purpose in order to brood over her rejection of him. In any case, she hadn’t seen him since that last awkward ride in the car.

She hadn’t seen him, that is, until she happened to turn her head and glance into the wings just beyond the audience’s view.