Page 1 of At Her Will

CHAPTER ONE

Idreem of kneeling.

Vera traced the misspelled word on the maintenance shed wall, following the curves and spikes with her manicured nails. The depth of the carved letters had kept them defined, the weathering increasing their contrast with the pine siding.

“Kids can’t resist a forbidden canvas.” The female voice, trained by necessity to fire no-nonsense directives at juvenile targets, matched the look of the woman who joined her at the school maintenance shed.

Middle school principal Mavis Petunia Martin wore brown slacks, matching rubber-soled flats and a gold blouse. A slim chain, strung with a cross and a man’s wedding ring, was around her neck. Mavis’s husband had died of a heart attack a few years ago.

The female principal had broad shoulders and a square torso with impressive breasts. To the student causing trouble, she looked like an oncoming war ship. To one who needed help, she was a Coast Guard rescue vessel.

“Yet this canvas seems devoid of profanity and super-sized male anatomy.” Vera’s attention passed over cartoon doodles,poems, movie and book quotes, as well as declarations of love, so keenly felt at this young age. None of the carvings had the precision of the one she’d been examining, which was how she’d noticed it. The “ng” had been visible beside the bench placed against the shed wall. A bucket beneath the bench had concealed the rest until she’d shifted it.

“That’s a shame,” the other woman said. “Who doesn’t appreciate super-sized male anatomy? It’s so rarely seen in real life.”

Vera shot her an amused look. “Why Principal Martin, don’t make me blush.”

“The only blush you’ve experienced comes in a compact, some fancy brand that costs a week of my salary.”

“Oh, that’s ridiculous. Your salary is pitiful. It’s at least a month’s worth.”

Mavis elbowed her. “We have expression boards throughout the school grounds. Students can’t put any obscene or hateful messages on them. We get the occasional smartass who breaks the rule, but having to spend a couple Saturdays as a slave to our custodial staff cures them of repeat offenses.”

Vera noted no cameras mounted on the shed. “How do you figure out who did it? Waterboarding until someone rats?”

“Sadly, the school board frowns on that tactic. Rev usually knows who’s done it.”

“Rev?”

“Right hand to our head custodian, Beau. Rev’s got an eagle eye for mischief. For other things, too. Every teacher and admin is trained to catch what you’re here for today, and he still manages to recognize it twice as often as we do.”

“Sounds like a man who needs a raise.”

“Won’t take one. Been working here for years, but says what we pay him is more than he needs.”

From her own well-in-the-past school days, Vera imagined a grizzled worker with kind eyes, pot belly, rough hands, a ponderous gait, and a belt jangling with keys. A man who considered the kids his to safeguard, same as any other adult who worked in an “official” childcare capacity.

“They’re coming out now.” Mavis drew her attention to the playing fields on the slope below them. “Janis is wearing a plain blue T-shirt and black jeans. He’ll stand out because he keeps himself apart from the others.”

Based on the separate streams of students that emerged, and the teacher head count, Vera determined it was PE time for four classes. Most students made beelines for the basketball courts, baseball or football fields.

“They’re required to do some kind of physical activity for most of the period,” Mavis told her. She pointed to the track, where less sports-oriented students had chosen to walk the loop, in pairs or chatting groups. Mavis had a cell-free school, all phones left in lockers or at home. With a nostalgic half-smile, Vera noted groups of girls giggling and gossiping, or seeking sympathy for a personal drama.

Janis had chosen to walk as well, but not on the paved track. He walked along the edge of the soccer field, dragging his hand across the chain link fence or scuffing his toe through the dirt. When he reached a live oak at the far end, he leaned against the broad trunk. A teacher would have to expend effort to get his attention and tell him to keep exercising. Vera didn’t think any would, because Mavis had told his teachers what kind of day Janis was about to have.

His head was down, brown arms crossed against his narrow chest. His hair was shaved to a thin layer over his scalp, probably his own work. Barbers cost money.

“His mother was processed into the rehab facility this morning.” Vera checked her phone to ensure there’d been noupdates. “The DSF worker said three school breakfasts were at the apartment, untouched, though it looked like he was trying to get her to eat them.”

“Shit.” Mavis’s jaw tightened. “We don’t let them take food out of the cafeteria, so we can make sure they eat, but they have their ways. We should have gotten DSF involved sooner.”

“It’s going to be a rough road for her.”

“Junkie prostitutes already know what a rough road is. I’m too old and jaded to ask this question, but what are her chances? I taught her when she was here, sixteen years ago. Damn it all.”

“She loves her son. If anything can get her on a better path, it’s that.” Vera put her hand on Mavis’s arm. “The important thing is we’re getting him the help he needs, so he doesn’t have to keep doing what even an adult would have a hard time handling.”

She looked at the boy again, the boniness of the shoulders under the shirt, evident even at this distance. “He has a room at Laurel Grove now. DSF signed off on it.”

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