Page 16 of For Your Own Good
But he isn’t reading for gossip. Not really. He’s looking for news about his assignment. It might be too soon, since they have several weeks to readMoby Dick, but eventually it’ll show up online. Teddy knows his students so well, he’d bet on it.
While he continues to scroll, an email pops up on his screen.
Dear Mr.Crutcher,
I want to thank you for giving Zach an extra assignment to try and improve his grade. I appreciate your time and thoughtfulness on this matter, and I know Zach does as well.
Best regards,
Pamela Ward
The words are nice enough. Kind, even. But considering the source, they somehow sound like a threat.
SONIA STANDS INfront of the memorial committee, trying to smile in an upbeat yet compassionate way.
The official committee is made up of parents, faculty, and students. They’ve met at least once a month for the past six. Now that it’s getting closer, they meet once a week.
“As you all know,” Sonia says, “the memorial is a balance between acknowledging what happened and trying to be upbeat about our future.”
“Unlike last year,” someone says.
The room goes silent. Everyone remembers what happened last year, when all the white butterflies were supposed to be released into the air. They were kept in the box for too long. The ones that managed to stay alive sputtered out, one by one, while the rest landed on the stage in a dead heap.
Sonia hadn’t chaired that event.
“No butterflies this year,” Sonia says. “And no doves, either. Nothing live of any kind. Well, except for the people.”
“Most of them.”
The comment comes from one of the most outspoken members of the committee. Ingrid Ross is president of the Collaborative, Belmont’s version of the PTA. She is also Courtney’s mother.
“Yes, thank you.” Sonia turns to the admin of the group. “Now, where are we with the food?”
“Lunch is at noon. Sharp. The buffet will be set up in the quad, weather permitting. Otherwise we’ll have to be in the dining hall. Coffee, tea, and water will be available throughout the day.”
“No breakfast?” Sonia says.
Ingrid answers for the group. “No breakfast.”
“All right. Where are we with the speakers?”
“I have them.” Ingrid clears her throat and stands up. She is tall andthin, and always looks like she just came from a Pilates class. Her straight blond hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail. “First, the headmaster will open the ceremony, followed by a nondenominational pastor, a rabbi, and an Eastern philosopher, who will join together in a spiritual silent moment.”
“I thought we were having a Buddhist monk,” someone says.
Ingrid purses her lips. “We voted against that on the speaker subcommittee.”
“Oh.”
“Moving on. After the moment of silence, we will have several parents speak. Including me.”
Sonia is quite proud of herself for not rolling her eyes.
“In the afternoon,” Ingrid says, “we’ll split up into smaller groups, with counselors and therapists, then come back together for the candle-lighting ceremony. A few teachers will speak, and the headmaster will close the day with some uplifting words about the future.”
“Teachers?” Sonia says. “Which teachers are speaking?”
“The exact lineup hasn’t been determined yet.”
