I guess Charlie meant it when she said her father wasn’t going to drop it.
The school day starts with an unplanned school-wide assembly instead of first period. After we all filter into the auditorium, the principal introduces Charlie’s dad, who appears from behind the curtain at the other side of the stage. He looks deadly serious and kind of scary in full uniform as he strides across the stage to the podium. I turn my head to glance at Charlie, who is sitting one row behind me and to my right. A couple of the kids next to her are saying something, but she just nods and looks straight ahead, not returning my look.
“I’m here to talk to you about something very serious,” Chief Walker begins. His hands firmly on the podium, he pauses, his steely gaze moving slowly, seeming to take in each and every student in the auditorium. If anyone was still talking they’ve stopped now. It’s pretty clear who Charlie got her intimidating stare from.
Now that he has our attention, the police chief continues. “I’m talking about prank calls,” he intones in a deep voice that doesn’t need the microphone in front of him to be heard. “In particular, making prank calls to the police, reporting a crime that hasn’t happened. Not only is it against the law, it’s dangerous. It causes us not only to waste time instead of dealing with real crime, it also causes us to use resources that could be better used elsewhere, in some cases, to save lives. Yet, recently, it seems someone has decided it’s fun to make prank calls to the police anyway. And to make it worse, this person, or persons, thinks it’s fun to report that a fellow classmate has committed a crime, or even worse, been hurt or killed.”
I suddenly feel as if every pair of eyes in the auditorium are on me, and I slump in my seat a little. It’s not true, of course. But I still feel like yelling out, They weren’t pranks! Not intentionally! I bite my lip instead.
Taking in a deep breath so pronounced we can hear it through the podium’s microphone, Charlie’s dad says, “Well, I’m here to tell you that we are not just laughing this one off. We are taking this very seriously. We are not going to drop this.”
I can’t help but glance at Charlie again. Again, she does not return it.
“We are conducting a thorough investigation,” her dad is saying, “and we will not give up until the culprit or culprits are found. And punished.”
This actually causes a few snickers, and a few shushes from teachers, but for the most part, everyone remains quiet and attentive. I do hear one guy in my row whisper to the person next to him, “He’s laying it on kind of thick, isn’t he?” Maybe he is, but there’s no doubt Police Chief Walker is scaring the crap out of me.
He keeps going for a few minutes, finding different ways to say the same thing, before he ends his talk by giving out a special 800 number that has been set up for those with information about the case. These calls will be kept in strictest confidence, he assures everybody. One girl asks if a caller with information has to leave their name, or can they make the call anonymously? The police chief says yes, if you must. Which is kind of ironic when you think about it.
The assembly finally ends, and we all leave the auditorium. I look for Charlie but she seems to have already hurried off to her next class. I do see Greg and Amy walking together. He seems to be trying to comfort her, though he seems more upset than she does.
By the time lunch arrives, everyone is talking about it. Normally, I would sit with Charlie and some of her friends. I passed her in the hall a few times, but she didn’t acknowledge me. She did the same in English, the one class we have together. Now, as I stand with my tray, considering whether to go sit with her, she makes my decision for me, glaring at me before turning to say hi to a girl who sits down next to her.
I guess she also meant it when she said she wanted distance from me. I could sit with some guys I know, but I end up eating by myself.
Today’s a workout day for Charlie, so it’s not out of the ordinary to be walking home without her. I walk part of the way with some friends. Of course, all they want to talk about is the crazy assembly this morning. Who made the prank calls? Was it more than one person? Would the caller do it again? If the caller stopped, how would the police find out who it was? If the caller was caught, how bad would the punishment be? Would it include jail time? How do you think Greg and Amy reacted when Chief Walker pulled them out of class yesterday and told them about the call? On and on. They’re so into it, they hardly notice I’m only responding with nods and grunts and one-word answers.
After the two break off in different directions, I continue on alone. I might not normally be walking with Charlie, but I still miss having her next to me right now. Part of me understands why she needs distance. But part of me doesn’t. We’ve been friends for so long surely we can get past this.
The truth is, her need for “distance” hurts. It feels like she’s abandoned me. And I never thought she would do that.
It’s hard to imagine that last summer, before Alan Harder pulled out his gun, and we’d been happily ragging each other as we always did, I’d been thinking about how Charlie’s kiss had felt on my cheek. I’d been considering asking if I could kiss her. What would she have said?
Now that seems a long time ago. And it seems stupid I’d been thinking of her that way.
I’m sure her kiss had meant nothing.
A lot of things changed that awful day. Maybe things changed between Charlie and me as well, and it just took this long for us to realize it.