Dissonance - Chapter 41

To my surprise, a full week passed without Dad pulling any more stunts. I had to borrow some money from Mrs. Phillips for gas, but after Chef paid us for the previous weekend and getting paid for gigs the next weekend, I had enough money that I could keep paying bills without asking Mrs. Philips to front me the money. I had to work out how to pay bills in cash, or with money orders, but it was at least doable.

Monday hit and I was actually feeling a little less pressure. I was just two weeks from the end of Mom and Dad’s thirty-day response period, and would hopefully be only a week or so more before the court hearing. I talked to Mr. Eaves on Friday, and so far they had heard no response from Dad or whatever lawyer he ended up hiring. As far as he could tell, Mr. Eaves couldn’t find any action taken by my father regarding the emancipation.

Part of me hoped Dad showed up to the hearing without any lawyer at all. It would be stupid, but he was just arrogant enough to think he could bamboozle a judge into ignoring everything and siding with him. It seemed to be a law of the universe that the stupider someone was, the more confident they were in their own abilities. Maybe it wasn’t fair to call him stupid exactly, but he did make a lot of stupid decisions, and without fail, he was always positive those decisions were right, regardless of what anyone told him. Actually, also regardless of what the eventual outcome was either. He would make some idiotic mistake, completely sure of himself, and when it blew up in his face, he would rail against the bar owner or whoever he felt had wronged him, complaining about all of the ‘idiots in the world.’ Irony was well and truly dead.

So there was a non-zero chance he would go to the hearing with just him and Mom. That was a best-case scenario for me. There was no better way to show how unfit my father was to be a parent than to let him just speak, and prove it himself.

As things started looking better for me, however, Cameron had steadily gotten more nervous. He’d stopped me several times over the last week to update me on what he was finding out about the Scantrons he’d found. I kept encouraging him to look into it, although as things started to point more and more to deliberate actions taken by administrators in the school, I also warned him there could be serious blowback from this. It seemed important enough that, if it was me, I’d still probably do it, but I was a little worried that he kept asking me what I’d do, instead of deciding for himself how to handle it. If he got in trouble, I was going to feel bad for pushing him to pursue it.

The only good news was both his editor and the faculty advisor had signed off on it. After reading it through, I couldn’t imagine how they did, especially the faculty advisor. The article was scathing and named specific names. How the advisor didn’t get fired after this came out, I couldn’t imagine.

There’s something wrong in Denmark, or at least at Julian S. Carr High School. Recently the entire school participated in the state-wide SALT survey, a comprehensive and anonymous survey covering a wide range of behaviors, challenges, and activities ranging from those supported and offered by the school to some that are still illegal in the state of North Carolina. The goal of the surveys was to find out what kind of support the state's students need and is meant to help direct funds for social programs, counselors, and out resources. The problem with these tests is how to get kids to admit to things that would get them suspended, expelled, or even arrested if they were caught by the school administration doing them. The answer was to keep the tests completely anonymous.

There were no names on any of the answers, which were done on Scantron to keep handwriting from being recognized or any specifics given that could track back to individual students. Teachers administering the surveys repeatedly reminded students taking them that the entire process would be anonymous and sealed the finished Scantrons in front of the students inside state-provided envelopes without looking at them.

The problem is, they might not be anonymous after all. Through an accident, this reporter found photocopies of completed Scantrons with student IDs handwritten on them. Based on the precautions taken by the administration, this should not have been possible. When contacted for the story, both the school administration and the district reiterated how impossible it was for these copied Scantrons to exist.

So how did this happen?

The article went on to lay out a damning set of circumstances, although I couldn’t help but notice it avoided naming anyone specifically, even when it was pretty obvious who was being talked about. He talked to every teacher who packed away tests in classes where students whose IDs he noted down took the test, and all said they put it in the envelope, sealed it, and gave it to a runner to take to the office, along with the runners and students in each class who saw the envelopes being sealed. All agreed the teachers put every single Scantron in the envelopes and they were dropped off, sealed, to the office.

The administration did not have any comment on what happened to the envelopes once they were dropped off. The district was more forthcoming, confirming that no school was supposed to open the sealed envelopes or keep any Scantrons, that the vice-principle of each school was in charge of checking that all of the counts on the outside of the envelopes were right and that all of the envelopes were accounted for. They even went as far as giving Cameron an unused envelope, a picture of which made it into the article. Something I noticed in the picture, and he pointed out in the article, is that the envelopes were all the same. It didn’t seem a far leap for someone to unseal the envelope, copy some of the Scantrons, and return them to the pouch.

The only thing unexplained was how the administration, if they did that, could have known which Scantron belonged to which student and mark them down on the copies. Cameron also got a copy of a blank Scantron from the district, which also promised to investigate the alleged breach, but nothing on the blank added any suggestion. It was a mystery that was never answered.

What wasn’t a mystery, at least to me, was who was responsible. As much as I felt picked on, I knew I wasn’t the only student Mr. Packer had singled out as a ‘problem student,’ and every ID Cameron was able to note was someone Mr. Packer thought needed to be kicked out of the school. Although Cameron hadn’t seen my ID, he hadn’t had time to go through all of them, but it wouldn’t surprise me if mine had been in that set.

The other thing I wasn’t sure of was what his end goal in getting these Scantrons was. It wasn’t like he could use them to expel students or get them arrested. At best, he could confirm things he thought about them, drug use and the like, but I couldn’t figure out what his end game was.

One thing was sure, however, was that the article caused a buzz. The entire school was talking about it after lunch, and I heard that they walked the faculty advisor out of the school after firing him, although that was just gossip, since no one actually knew anyone who saw that. It did seem at least seemed possible that he got fired, since Peyton had him for English sixth period, and there was a sub teaching the class when he’d taught classes earlier in the day. While not unheard of for a teacher to leave before the last class, it was a hell of a coincidence.

I was worried about Cameron, though. Even if Mr. Packer wasn’t behind it, the article clearly pointed to the administration doing something dirty, and Mr. Packer would definitely feel it was his job to protect the administration. Although he’d been at pep rallies and other school events, I’d only talked to Principal Snyder once, but I didn’t doubt he’d also try to come down on the student who actually wrote the article. Especially if they already fired a teacher over it.

I felt a little responsible, since I’d told Cameron he should keep chasing it when he’d asked me what to do. I’d honestly not given it much thought at the time, since I’d been so wrapped up in my own problems, and was just now considering how bad my advice was. If they were doing something like this, then I did think it should be looked into, but it didn’t have to be Cameron. Someone should have at least warned him that this could have repercussions on him, and that someone should have been me. I’d had enough run-ins with the administration to know better.

I hoped the storm would manage to pass him by, partially for my own selfish reasons of wanting to have one less thing to be guilty about and partly because I didn’t want him to have to go through some of the same BS that I had.

Nothing happened to Cameron by Wednesday afternoon, but I had to put my concern for him aside, since it was the day the label’s deposit should have hit the band’s bank account, which also meant it was the day that Dad would find out I blocked him from taking any more money.

I knew there was going to be some kind of reaction, because there was no way he could let a challenge like that unanswered. I half expected to find a call from Kent that he’d tried some new kind of outrage while I was at school, but when I powered my phone back up, there was nothing. Nor had there been a visit from the school administration trying to pull me out of class again.

That was actually a bad thing, since I wasn’t foolish enough to believe I somehow got lucky this time. I’d actually hoped for a call from Kent or a visit from Mr. Packer, because at least I’d know. It was the uncertainty that was killing me, even though just thinking that was probably giving me some kind of bad Karma.

I made it through training and was halfway through practice when the universe finally replied in the form of a text from Kat telling me to get home quickly with no further explanation. It wasn’t a long drive, but I felt nauseous the whole way, wondering what he’d done. That feeling doubled when I saw Sydney’s father’s patrol car sitting outside the house with no one in it. I parked behind him and made a dash inside, almost slamming into her father, who was standing just inside the doorway.

“Here he is now,” Kat said. “I called Mom, and she’s on her way.”

“Like I told you, she’s not his guardian, so I don’t need her to be here to deal with him,” he said, pointing his thumb at me. “Charlie, are you staying here?”

“Yeah? What’s going on?”

“Your father called the station this afternoon and reported that you’d run away from home several weeks ago to one of my deputies. Considering I’ve seen you in that period and you’ve been out with my daughter, I was a little confused, so I called my daughter and she said you were staying with the Phillips. Do you mind telling me what exactly going on here?”

“I guess, although I didn’t run away. My mom knows I’m staying here.”

“He’s been here for almost a month,” Kat said.

“She gave you permission?”

“Yeah. After we had a physical … uhh … confrontation, she thought it was best to keep us from getting into another fight.”

“You’ve been in a fight with your father?”

“Not really a fight. He punched Mom and tried to kick her while she was down, so I bounced his head off the fridge.”

“I see. So if I went to talk to her, she’d confirm she’s letting you stay here?”

That was a good question. If he caught her on her own, she would, but if Dad had already suspected I’d point the police to her, he might have coached her on what to say. I wasn’t sure what his endgame was here, since I knew he wouldn’t enjoy me living back at home any more than I would, and it certainly wouldn’t convince me to call Kent and tell him to release the money or whatever tricks he was doing to keep Dad from getting it. It was possible this was part of some kind of strategy for the emancipation hearing, although it was unlike Dad to think that far ahead usually.

“I … don’t know. My mom sometimes doesn’t think straight when my dad’s involved.”

“I see,” he said, and then turned to look at Kat and then back at me. “Let’s step outside.”

“Kat, call Mr. Eaves,” I said over my shoulder as the lawyers' words suddenly came back to me.

I knew his policy that he never wanted his clients to talk to the police without him, even when they were completely innocent, and that I’d already said more than he’d be happy with. I’d had a glimmer of hope when the sheriff had given me a ride the other day that he might not be all bad, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t relish the chance to get me out of his daughters' life.

“I’m not trying to jam you up. You can call him, but I really am just trying to find out what’s going on,” he said once we were outside, sounding oddly earnest. “I’ll admit to not being your biggest fan, but if you’ve really been living here for this long and we’re just now getting a report of it, then we clearly aren’t getting the full story. Talk to me. Don’t talk to me. Wait for your lawyer to talk to me. I don’t care which one you want to do, but if you tell me what’s going on, as long as nothing seriously illegal is happening, I promise I won’t use it to go after you.”

I stared at him, considering. He seemed very reasonable, but of course, I’m sure every cop who ever tried to take a confession seemed reasonable while they were waiting to get the person they were interviewing to talk. I knew exactly what Mr. Eaves would want me to do, and if this was one of the deputies or a cop somewhere else, then I would probably do just that.

This however wasn’t any other cop, this was my girlfriends' father. Although he’d come out hard against me the first time I’d met him, he’d been pretty reasonable the other day after Harry broke my window and he really did seem like he wanted to help.

I considered him for long enough that he probably started thinking I was choosing to remain silent until my lawyer got there. When he shrugged and started walking to his patrol car, I decided to take a shot. I was pretty sure Mr. Eaves was going to string me up from a light pole by my feet, but I couldn’t take another thing hanging over my head on top of the record contract, trying to keep the band paid, and the emancipation hearing. If he could help me now, instead of dragging this out threw more slow-moving legal processes, I wanted to give it a shot.

“I’m filing for emancipation from my parents,” I said at his back.

“Why?”

“My father came back near the end of my tour. He’d been in prison for killing a man in a bar fight but got out because of some kind of problem with the judge or something. He’s always been a drunk and he's been abusive to me and Mom. I left after he hit Mom when she tried to break up an argument between Dad and me.”

“Did he hit you too?”

“He did when I was little. When he tried this time, I dislocated his elbow.”

“But he took the first swing, right?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t the only time. I also bounced his head off the refrigerator the one time he hit Mom in front of me. I’m not a little kid anymore and I’m not going to let him beat on me or Mom again.”

“You said your mother gave you permission to stay here. Was he okay with you leaving then?”

“He didn’t do anything to stop me, although he didn’t stop trying to meddle in my career. He used to be a musician and he sees me as a way to get his old life back. He’s still trying to pull me out of school so I can tour full time and causing problems with the record company, firing one of my managers and stuff like that.”

“And that’s why you want emancipation.”

“It’s one of the reasons, but it’s not just because of money. He’s making it hard for me to go to school, he’s going to ruin my career just before it starts, and he’s going to end up getting one of us killed when he goes too far beating on Mom or trying to beat on me. I don’t feel safe with him and I don’t trust him to be my guardian.”

“So why did he wait until today to report you as a runaway? If you’re fighting so much and you’ve shown you can hurt him, why would he want you back under his roof?”

“To cause me problems. In retaliation for my filing for emancipation, which they were notified about last weekend, he cleaned out my bank account and the bank account we have to pay the band after gigs. It was legal, since Mom is a signer on the accounts, but I wasn’t going to let him do it again. We had a big check coming earlier this week for the first month of our record release, and I managed to stop that from being deposited, which meant he couldn’t take the money. This is his way of getting back at me. I think maybe he also thinks if he can show me being arrested or in trouble with the police, he can use that against me in the emancipation hearings, but I don’t know. It just shows me I really need the emancipation, so I can sign for accounts and stuff in my own name, without having to go through all this to protect myself.”

“I see,” he said.

It was now his turn to fall silent, looking at me, his jaw working as he considered what I said. For a moment, I thought maybe I’d made a mistake, and he was figuring out how to use all this against me.

“So where do we go from here?” I asked, when he still didn’t respond. “Are you going to make me go back to my parents?”

“No. I’ve seen enough domestics in my time to know how that’s going to end, especially with the damage you’ve done to both your father and the Campbell boy last year. If I put you back in that house, someone’s going to get seriously hurt, or worse.”

“I’ve only ever defended myself. I didn’t go after Aaron or my father first. I don’t want to go back there, but I also don’t want you thinking I’m out here just to attack anyone I don’t like.”

“Maybe, but I do know putting you in that situation is just asking for some kind of violent reaction. So no, I won’t take you back. I’ll talk to your mother, but if she’s in an abusive relationship, then you’re probably right, she won’t back up your story. I’ve seen a lot of those over the years too.”

“So what do I do? I mean, for now, they’re my guardians, right? Can they force me to go back there?”

“Maybe. Here’s what I can do. I will go back and put the report in a drawer for now. He can always file another one, of course, or even call the county DA, who is definitely not your biggest fan, and demand action, but that will all take time. What you can do is file for a restraining order, which will make it impossible to return you to their custody, at least while the restraining order is in effect. As long as you file directly with the court, the DA isn’t involved with that, so you don’t have to worry about him. Because of the emancipation request and the fact that you have an adult you are living with now so you aren’t on the streets, — I’m betting a judge would rather just let you stay where you are at least until the emancipation hearing is done, rather than add another kid into the system. It’s a safe bet any restraining order or order letting you stay with your parents, will be set to end with the decision on your emancipation. If you get the emancipation, then all of this goes away, and if you don’t, you’ll end up back in their custody and none of this will matter.”

“That’s all I was looking for. I’m just trying to find a way to keep things from falling apart until I’m free of him. I really appreciate it, Sheriff.”

“Don’t think this is some kind of sign that I approve of you dating my daughter, I’m just doing my job. I still think you’re a magnet for trouble, and this all goes to prove that point. I also know how bad domestic situations can get, so if I can keep you out of their house, it’s safer for everyone.”

“Well, I still appreciate the help,” I said. “Hopefully I can change your mind someday.”

“Uh-huh,” he said with a tight smile before walking back to his car.

It took Mr. Eaves another hour and a half to get there, since he was all the way in Ashville. As predicted, he wasn’t pleased I’d talked to the Sheriff without him.

“What have I told you about talking to police when you’re questioned? Do you know how many innocent people end up in jail every year because they said something that could be misconstrued or taken out of context at a trial? When you’re being officially questioned, the police aren’t your friend and they aren’t there to help you. If they think you’re the guy they’re after, they’re looking for evidence to make the case against you stronger and it’s their job to convince you to talk to them. The only thing you can do by talking is make your defense harder.”

“I know, and I thought about that, but he wasn’t here to arrest me or anything. Dad reported me as a runaway and he was here to take me back home. Once he heard I had been living here for weeks, and Dad only reported it now, he said he was second guessing just sending me back to him. I know it could have been some kind of trick to get me to talk, and I was thinking about what you’ve told me, but he is my girlfriend’s dad and I believed him. I explained what had been happening, that my Mom okayed me moving here after I defended her against Dad the first time, and about the emancipation. He agreed my going back there was a mistake and said he’d hold off on doing anything for now, but suggested I file for a restraining order against my father, since he could always try and call the DA’s office and force the issue. He left it at that. I think the restraining order is a good idea. I am worried Dad might be doing this to have something against me at the emancipation hearing, showing me as a troubled kid unfit to look after themselves or something, and the DA really, really hates me. He would definitely do anything he could to screw me over if we gave him the chance.”

“I see,” Mr. Eaves said, still staring me down.

I knew I’d at least annoyed him by breaking one of his big rules for being his client, but I didn’t think he’d drop handling my emancipation over it.

“He’s not wrong,” Mr. Eaves finally said. “We probably should have done that already, especially after you kept your royalty payment out of his hands. We can call this even on mistakes, but next time wait for me. We could have had the same conversation with the sheriff if I was here, but without you admitting to assault in the process.”

“Assault. I thought you said that people were allowed a reasonable self-defense? How did I admit to assault?”

“I did say that, but specifically about the emancipation process. But what you’re allowed to do and what you get arrested for aren’t always the same thing, and there are a lot of gray areas. For instance, you have extensive training in self-defense, as shown by the numerous other fights you have been in over the last year or so, many of which you won against multiple opponents. A DA could argue you had a higher level of responsibility than someone who wasn’t trained. I’m not saying I wouldn’t like our chances, but your being booked on assault would be something your parents could use in your emancipation hearing. It all worked out okay this time, but you have to be careful, especially as you yourself have pointed out the county DA would love to have a reason to book you for something.”

“Okay. I really did think about what you said and thought it would be okay. I’ll do better next time. So about the restraining order the sheriff mentioned?”

“I’ll file for it when I get back to my office. There’s no guarantee that it will be approved, especially since I don’t think you have any witnesses, right?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so. It’s not a guarantee, but with the emancipation I think you have a good shot at getting it. I’ll let you know what happens. And please, don’t talk to the police, DA, or any government official again without an attorney present. Be smart.”

“I will.”