I don’t know why I’m the only one they ever call to substitute. They don’t think I can handle their classes so they spend the whole next day after asking their class about what I went over and then criticizing it. I know this because some of my music students have been in the classrooms and told me.
“I should have refused,” I say out loud as I get in my car. I look back to the door of the studio to make sure Charlie didn’t hear me talking to myself.
The principal who would be told immediately if I refused, wouldn’t appreciate that. I know I’m going to go home and work on lesson plans for an English class I haven’t been in once this quarter. I drive home with a lot on my mind and try to think of a movie I can play for the students.
Chapter Twelve: Charlie
I make quick work putting everything away so I can sit down to write. I like the quiet of the studio once the kids are gone to think and write. It’s a good time to play and just unwind. I’m thinking about Addy. She has been on my brain a lot since I first heard her sing.
I hear something towards the front door and wonder if she came back for some reason. Going towards the front I don’t see her standing outside. After standing and listening for a minute I chalk it up to my imagination.
Walking through the back and turning off the lights I get the feeling I’m being watched. Once I turn off the last of the lights I stand for a minute to see if I hear the noise again.
A loud crash startles me and glass showers down from the side window as something heavy comes flying through it. One piece sticks into my arm and I feel smaller pieces stick into my face.
“What the hell!” I yell while trying to shield my face from the shards.
Someone laughs in the parking lot and I pull my phone out to call the police. I walk across the floor to look at the object. It’s a brick. There’s a note tied to it that reads, we’ll take everything from you like you’ve taken everything from us.
There’s no doubt in my mind it’s related to my dad. More than likely it’s from the same men who were angry with me before. After I call the police to report the damage I debate on whether I should go outside. I decide to wait for the police because if I had to guess, there are probably at least six or seven of them. I don’t like those odds.
The laughing continues for a little longer and I keep thinking they are going to come inside and destroy everything.
“We’ll be back tonight rich boy, you better sleep here,” a loud voice says as a truck drives by. I look out and see there are at least five men in the back. I was right to wait. They had to have been parked behind the building and ran up with the bricks.
The police show up long after they have already driven away. One officer gets out and comes over to me. She isn’t in a huge hurry. She walks to the front and looks at the broken windows.
“Someone break out your windows?” She asks stepping inside.
“They threw bricks through them,” I tell her and point to one with the note. She picks it up and reads it shaking her head back and forth before putting it right back where she picked it up from.
“These are people you know?” She takes out a little notepad and pen ready to write.
“Not really. I don’t know the actual individuals who did this, but I think I know the group responsible.”
“You do?”
“Yes, just recently my father made several of his workers mad when he fired them. I think for some reason they think they can get at him through me.”
“They can’t?” She looks at me with raised brows.
“No, I don’t have anything to do with my dad’s business. There’s no reason for them to come after me.”
“Besides your dad laying them off from their jobs.” Her tone doesn’t seem helpful. It almost sounds angry.
“Right, but I am only guilty of having him as my dad. After that, I’m not responsible for any of it.”
She makes a noise in her throat and walks forward writing as she goes. I get a feeling she’s not really going to be any help. Something is bothering her about me and my family. I would get the only police officer with a chip on her shoulder.
After she looks in every room she walks back out the front and heads to her car.
“What are you going to do about this?” I say to her back.
“We’ll keep our eye out, but the chances of finding who did this are pretty slim. Here’s my card.”
“What do you mean? I told you who did it.” I need to maintain my cool but this police officer is really getting under my skin. This is my safe place and it’s been tampered with. I have children who come here to learn how can she not see how awful this is?
“You can’t prove it,” she smirks. Once she’s gone I walk back into the studio to try and pick up the glass. I’ll have to deep clean before the students return so no one gets hurt. I turn the card over and look at the name. Deputy O’Neil. I’ll have to figure out if my dad somehow knows her.