Daddy Dearest

Chapter Fourteen

Ben

I'm driving out of the school employee parking lot when I spot a long-haired girl by the bike racks with a yellow and white backpack that looks like a sad sunny side-up egg. Even from the back, the girl's form is achingly familiar, so I slow the car down and stop next to her.

I'm surprised to see that she's still around because Nancy is very prompt about picking her up after school. I press a button to roll the windows down. "Miss Plum? What's the matter?"

She turns around and the tears streaming down her cheeks are a gut punch that momentarily takes the wind out of me. Upon seeing me, she quickly wipes her tears away with the sides of her fists and attempts to smile, but the effort looks painful.

I turn the flashers on and get out of the car. She is hovering worriedly by her bicycle, but not touching it. I approach her slowly because she appears to be a bit spooked. "My dear, what is it? What happened?" I touch her upper back and she jumps.

"Mr. D, someone slashed both of my tires," she tells me, her voice shaky with tears. "And left me a note. I haven't touched it, just in case the police need to dust it for prints or something."

She sobs into her hands. I put my arms around her and gather her against me, making soothing noises. Her head barely comes up to the bottom of my jacket's breast pocket. "It's all right now, my darling. I'm here. Why don't you get in the car, while I take a few pictures of your bike to give the police when you and Nancy file a report?"

I let her go, but she doesn't move. "Melody?" I guide her to the car, open the passenger door, and help her up onto the seat. I take off my sports jacket and put it over her. "Stay right here, honey. I won't be a moment." I close the door firmly.

I look around the parking lot, but the campus is usually empty by four-thirty. Most teachers leave just before four pm to avoid rush-hour traffic. The Yearbook staff meets three times a week, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Today is Thursday. Lottie has her drama club, while Charlie has his band practice till five-thirty, so they carpool home together.

I glance at my watch. It's nearly four-thirty, but the sun is still up. Though autumn starts in September, it doesn't really get dark in the late afternoon until early November.

Finally checking out the bike, I realize immediately why Melody is upset. The first thing I notice is the bike seat, which is one of those wide, vintage leather ones with padding for a comfortable ride. Someone has taken a box cutter to it and partially pulled out the memory foam within. Tied to the seat post is what looks like the index card-sized luggage tags you used to find in airports. Written on it in thick black marker is "Good girls don't mess around with Alex Chambers." I squat down to check out the rest of the damage and find the chain undone and the two tires flat because they had been slashed through with a blade.

Such hate behind these actions. Who could have done this? A girl jealous that Alex Chambers has been paying attention to Melody or a boy angry about seeing her walking around with Alex Chambers?

I was heading to a meeting this morning with a guidance counselor and the parents of a student when I spotted the two of them walking to class together. Alex Chambers was carrying Melody's sad sunny side-up backpack over his shoulder and his own on another. She looked so petite compared to him because he's about as tall as I am. I was going the opposite direction across the lawn that separated us, but it wasn't so wide that I couldn't see Chambers' adoring face as he gazed down on Melody as she appeared to be giving him the what-for with her hands on her hips.