Teacher, Teacher by John Locke

Author:John Locke [Locke, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781940745503
Publisher: Telemachus Press, LLC
Published: 2014-01-29T00:00:00+00:00

WE’RE SUDDENLY INTERRUPTED by a commotion in the lobby. Next thing I know, Dillon’s racing down the hall. He says, “There are four policemen in the lobby!”

“Shit!”

He looks at Beth. “They’re here to arrest you.”

I say, “Mike? Thanks for your help. I’ll trust you to keep this test confidential. Send us a bill, but you need to go now. Please use the back exit.”

Dillon points the way.

One of the policemen shouts, “Ms. Ripper? If you don’t bring Ms. Conroy out front in the next 10 seconds we’re coming for her.”

“She’s in the bathroom. She’ll be out in just a sec!”

Dillon whispers, “The memory stick?”

“What about it?”

“Give it to the police.”

Beth says, “Dillon’s right. And tell them where you found it. Trust the system, Dani. The truth will come out.”

“That is such bullshit!” I say. “You have no idea how the system works. It’s nothing like the idealized version you teach in the classroom. In the real world, the system sucks. They don’t give a shit about the truth, all they want’s a scapegoat. Look what happened to Joe Paterno!”

“I agree,” Dillon says, “But withholding evidence is a crime. You could get more jail time than Beth. You’d lose your license. Not to mention your reputation.”

“Jesus, Dillon. What are you, fifty? Stop being such a tight ass! Kids your age are supposed to be anti-establishment.”

“I’m only six years younger than you.”

“Then why do you sound like my grandfather? No wonder you can’t get laid! This is planted evidence, Dillon. I won’t let them use it to put Beth away. I’m going to keep it a while, so deal with it.”

“Ms. Ripper!” the policeman shouts. “Last chance!”

“We’re coming!” I shout back.

Beth says, “What happens now?”

“Plan B.”

“We don’t have a Plan B!”

“Not yet, but I will. Look, tell the police nothing. Demand an attorney. Don’t even tell them your name. By the way, what is your real name?”

“Beth Conroy.”

“Then how could you possibly fail that question?

“I don’t know. It was the first question. Maybe I was nervous or something.”

She hands me her house key. “In case you need a place to stay tonight.”

“Thanks. I’ll get the window fixed and change the locks.”

Beth reaches in her purse and tries to hand me the five twenties I left in her hallway last night, but I wave her off.

“They’re coming down the hall!” Dillon whispers frantically. “Let’s go!”

Beth starts following Dillon. I grab her arm and whisper, “Give me your cell phone!’

“Why?”

“Just do it! If they ask, you left it at home, okay?”

“I’m not going to lie.”

“Then refuse to answer questions about it.”

She reluctantly hands me her cell phone, and I wedge it in my back pocket as the police grab and lean her face-forward against the wall.

“You don’t need to cuff her,” I say.

“She has you to thank for that. If you’d brought her to the lobby when we asked, we’d have spared her the embarrassment. But now—thanks to you—she’ll be making the perp walk.”

“Sorry Beth.”

“It’s okay.”

“Don’t give up,” I say, cheerfully. “I’m just getting started!”

She turns to show me a weak smile, but the cop snarls, “Face the wall!”

She does.

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