Sunken Graves Alan Lee (reading e books .txt) 📖

door open too during his planning period. He welcomed the voices and laughter of students and faculty.

He had upcoming weeks with no lessons prepared and the empty planner gaped at him. A void he couldn’t fill with his mind elsewhere.

Dean Gordon had emailed Jennings as he brainstormed.

Mr. Jennings,

I called Haley Toyota. Your truck will be good as new next week. And the window to your apartment arrives tomorrow. Things are looking up.

Let me know how I can help. My job is to make yours easier.

-Gordon

Jennings drummed his fingers on his desk, considering.

His panic attack had been brought on by Peter Lynch, at least in part. The monster he suspected of physical abuse, sexual abuse, intimidation, bribery, and a host of other crimes might also be a murderer. Ripped ears and a hook through her mouth.

What did Jennings do now?

What could Jennings do now?

The police had nothing to go on. No evidence, no testimony. Standing up to him was nearly impossible. His victims got paid off. The teachers could lose their jobs, the newspaper would fold, the reporters got fired or killed, Chief Gibbs had nothing…nothing, there was nothing Jennings could do.

But he couldn’t just close his eyes and make Lynch go away.

He needed more allies.

At the final bell, his mind was made. He walked out of Ol’ Monty with the flood of boys, the juniors and seniors running for their sports lockers—the football championship was two days away and Coach Murray was back at practice. Jennings circumnavigated the quad and reached James House, the admin building.

Dean Gordon should be told. Maybe the man couldn’t help, but the more people who knew the better.

The upper school’s secretary, on the phone, smiled brightly at him and waved with her finger. Jennings always got the one-finger wave. The two guidance counselors were busy in their offices, as was Ms. Nancy, the dean’s personal assistant. Jennings walked to the back, to Gordon’s office.

The door was cracked. Jennings raised a hand to knock and Peter Lynch laughed from within.

An unmistakable sound. Lynch’s voice neutered and mild, like the commercials, speaking softly to the dean. Jennings jerked his fist away as if scalded.

The enemy was already in the gates! Jennings wrestled down the fear. Lynch was probably here about Benji, not him. Here about any number of other things.

Lynch doesn’t know I went to the police. He doesn’t know I went to Richmond. Relax, Dan, relax, you’re good.

Jennings left the James House, moving fast. Straight across the quad, ignoring friendly greetings, back to his classroom, to his home turf.

He was developing paranoia. He knew it.

Lynch laughing in Gordon’s office didn’t mean the dean was associated with his crimes. Nor did it mean the dean was hopelessly within Lynch’s pocket. Jennings kept telling himself that, trying to inculcate some rationality.

Lynch wasn’t God. He wasn’t omnipotent, he wasn’t omniscient. He wasn’t even the devil. He was a man.

It frightened Jennings, the awareness he might be more obsessed with Lynch than Lynch was with him.

Someone was speaking. That thought rattled around his skull before landing.

“Mr. Jennings? Hellooo?” A girl at the door.

Jennings stood. Winced. “Daisy? Excuse me, Ms. Hathaway.”

“Daisy. You’re sweating.”

He pushed fingers through his hair, came away damp. Faked a grin. “Long day.”

“You always stand, Mr. Jennings, around me.”

“That’s just good breeding, is all.” Inwardly he cursed. Wished he wouldn’t say stupid crap to her.

She smiled. “Good breeding and good manners. I like it. The world as it should be.”

“We’re trying to have a civilization, aren’t we?”

“Good point. You’re quoting a famous historian?”

“Jerry Seinfeld.”

She laughed at that, and clutched her books to her chest. “I was only curious about your truck.”

“My truck?”

“The one vandalized? Remember?”

“Right. It should be ready next week. Good as new.” He wiped his forehead.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Mr. Jennings? You’re flushed.”

Well, I’m lonely and you’re wearing the short red skirt, what’d you expect, Daisy Hathaway.

He cleared his throat. “I’m fine. I’m stressed about lesson plans, that’s it.”

“Why?”

“I’m about to run out. I mean, I have the textbooks, but I’m near the end of what I planned.”

She glanced to her room and back. Said, “I…”

“Yeah?”

“I have an idea. A great idea.”

“Those are my favorite kind, Ms. Hathaway.”

“Daisy. I have Reggie’s lesson plans in my room.”

“The history teacher from last year?”

“Some of his boxes were moved across the hall when he left. I’ve been using them to integrate English and history.”

“Can I peek?”

“That’s my great idea. We’ll go through it together. What about…tonight?” She looked at the toes of her booties, hair falling in front of her face. “I have a master’s in education. Which means I should be good at this, technically, though it doesn’t always feel that way. I can help with your lessons. At a coffee shop?”

Jennings took a deep breath but came away without enough oxygen. At a coffee shop. His anxiety arrived without stark fear, like this morning, but rather a thrill, like cresting the first hill of a rollercoaster.

“Mr. Jennings?”

“Dan,” he said.

“Does that work, Daniel? You already have plans, I bet.”

Most people didn’t use his full name. Just Hathaway and Peter Lynch. The mouth made the difference between a blessing and a curse.

“No, I can— I can do that.”

“How about seven,” she said.

“I’ll pick you up?”

“Why not? It’s a date.”

He nodded and he swallowed.

“And relax, Daniel, not a real date. Just a teacher date.”

He listened to her walk away, the heels of her booties clicking.

Who was scarier, Peter Lynch or Daisy Hathaway?

At the moment, Jennings sweating and weak in the knees, it was a toss up.

18

Hathaway berated herself the entire drive home. Asking him out? How’d that happen? The words just tumbled. She heard herself mention the coffee shop and then she called it a date.

I’ll pick you up. Why not?

She was engaged, that’s why not!

Or she had been—it was months since Byron had considered a ceremony, she knew. But that was irrelevant. She had to cancel with Mr. Jennings.

With Daniel.

Traveling with him on Monday had felt like cheating. With any other colleague, it would’ve been a simple