Sunday, June 14, 2015

Chapter Ten

“Could you start at the beginning again Miz Baumann?” 


“Excuse me?” 

“I’m not a Miz, just a plain ol’ Miss.  Or Winifred or even just Winnie.  Miz makes me sound like something I’m not.  Do you know where my uncle is?  He’s supposed to let me know what the doctors say.” 

“He’ll be back when we finish getting your statement.” 

“Huh?  Wait.  You mean … you mean I can’t see him and find out about Aunt Rachel?  But you’re like, I don’t know, the fifth or sixth policeman I’ve given a statement to.” 

“Miz … Miss Baumann, things will go a lot smoother if you would just cooperate.” 

“I’ve been cooperating.  I just need to know how my aunt is.  Are you like saying I need a lawyer or something?” 

A woman in a business suit broke in and said, “No one has said that.  Do you think you need a lawyer?” 

“Oh geez, not this routine again.  You gotta be feds.  Look, you know who I am.  I told everyone who has asked me.  I guess my name is on some dumb list because of the riots.  Fine.  Whatever.  Just instead of assuming I’m guilty of something ignorant could you just ask me straight out instead of going in circles?  I’m tired and I haven’t even had a glass of water since we got here.” 

The woman got a very shark like grin on her face and said, “Oh you’re good but your little innocent act won’t fly.  I know all about the football team Sweets.” 

Getting irritated I said, “Ok, that’s it.  Get one of those women’s health doctors … a gynecologist.” 

“You got an STD or something?  You pregnant and gonna try and use that as an out?” 

“No.  I’m gonna settle that stupid rumor once and for all because I … have … had …it.  None of those jocks would have touched me with a ten foot pole anyway.  Why would they?  They were all getting it regular from multiple other sources.  Dinah Huffstetler just got mad ‘cause her boyfriend’s tutoring meant he was no longer available to drive her home from cheerleading practice in his new Camaro.  I don’t care how much it embarrasses me at this point.  I just want it over with.” 

I stood there tapping my foot. 

The man chuckled like some fuzzy kitten had just hissed.  “Ok, let’s assume you’re telling the truth.  What about the smoke bombs at the football game?  Why get your revenge if you weren’t guilty of anything?” 

I shook my head.  It was all just a repeat of the crap from last time.  “First off they were smoke – or smudge – pots.  POTS … not bombs.  They were placed on either side of this paper banner that was a back drop for our pep squad’s dance routine.  Our pep squad had to buy new uniforms that year because of the dress code change in the district and they could only afford really wimpy special effects for their routines and they wanted to go to competition so were saving what money they had in their budget for that.  Well one of the girls on the squad had a brother in our AV club and she asked if we could come up with some stuff to help out since we always did the special effects for the drama club.  The guys really … I mean stupid right? … thought if they helped the girls they might get a date.  Not just stupid but royally ignorant but that’s guys for you … even the smarts ones have a one track mind when it comes to long lashes and short skirts.  So we played with some formulas … had to smoke but no flame ‘cause of the paper banner … and we found a great one.  It gave out tons of cool colored smoke, no flame or even heat, and it wasn’t even toxic to the environment.”   

I sighed and slid into the chair I had vacated a moment before.  “Only we hadn’t figured on the wind … or the fact that it would blow the smoke right into the opposing team’s varsity cheer squad.  Please note I said the other team’s cheer squad, not ours so there is no possible revenge factor.  And even that might have been ok except they were in the middle of taking pictures for their yearbook and had this sticky, sparkly crap in their hair and … well the tempera powder that we used to color the smoke hit sticky and got stuck.  Then everything went totally crazy.  They started screaming … not ‘cause they were scared but because they were mad.  But their moms don’t know this and for some dumb reason automatically assume terrorist attack.  To make a long story short …” 

“Oh let’s do,” the female agent said snidely. 

I gave her the look her comment deserved and continued.  “To make a long story short the whole AV club got sentenced to 80 hours of volunteer work each and that was in addition to having to scrub both the girls’ and boys’ locker rooms at their school.  And rich they might have been but they were still disgusting little skid marks with BO.  So thanks for making me relive one of the most humiliating chapters of my life … make that two of the most humiliating chapters of my life since you brought up the rumors that I did the wild thang with the football team.  Especially considering you could have found all of this out by reading the court minutes of the trial of the girls who almost killed me, which according to a bunch of dumb reporters is what sparked the riots around the country.” 

I sat there looking at them and they continued to look at me until the woman’s cell phone went off and she looked at it.  After listening for a moment she closed it with a snap and turn to her partner and told him, “The kid is going to live.” 

She sounded so relieved I got furious all over again.  “You’re more concerned that a man …man, not kid since he’s twenty-one and older than I am … you’re more concerned about a criminal that had a gun pointed at an old lady, then kicked her cane making her fall, than you are about the old lady?!!” 

A voice behind me said, “I’ll take that statement.  Great sound bite.” 

I didn’t even have to puzzle out who the guy was.  “What is this?  A reunion?  I told you when you snuck into my hospital room the last time I didn’t’ want to talk to you.  And I don’t want to talk to you now either.  Go away.” 

“No.  If these officers …” 

“They aren’t cops; their feds.  So stop doing whatever you are trying to do.  I’m no martyr to your stupid cause!  And I don’t want trouble!” 

A couple of real police officers hustled the guy out.  I said to no one in particular, “I just want to know how my aunt is.  You tell me and we’ll go over the stupid statement again.” 

“You use the word stupid excessively.” 

I told the woman, “Because the whole world has gotten excessively stupid.  Nobody can seem to get along and just keep their noses out of other people’s business.  Not countries, not governments, not religions, not people.  Everyone is growing a giant cancerous tumor of stupid.” 

The man, who seemed to be playing the “good cop” since his partner did “bad cop” so well said, “Why don’t you come sit back down and write out your statement for us?  Then it’ll be over with?” 

I lifted my right hand out of the pocket of the scrubs that I was wearing because my clothes had been taken for evidence and said, “I would except as you can see I’m kinda taped into a splint here where the guy stomped on my hand when I tried to crawl over to my Aunt.” 

Both of them blinked and looked through a couple of sheets of paper on the table before the woman asked suspiciously, “It’s broken?  There’s nothing in the report.” 

“I haven’t got the foggiest,” I snapped.  “Every time someone tried to take me to x-ray one of you guys wants another statement because apparently no one can read each other’s handwriting.” 

“We can’t take a statement until the drugs are out of your system.” 

“What drugs?!” I shouted, then yelped as I banged my hand on the table.  “I havent’ even taken a Tylenol.  My hand is thumping like crazy except for my fingers which I can’t feel anymore because the tape on the splint is too tight and they’re all a funny purple color … and … and …” 

I was not going to cry.  Was not.  But then I did.  Things got kind of confusing after that as Uncle Carmichael and Cliff who had been standing out in the hallway burst in when I got kind of loud.  Uncle Carmichael alone can be pretty imposing but pair him with Cliff and imposing goes up several notches.  Plus they both had practice from where I’d basically been held captive in the hospital before.


  1. Purple fingers, not good. Thank you so much Kathy.

  2. Kathy Thanks for more of this one.

  3. Kathy Thanks for more of this one.

  4. I am just loving this story. Thanks.

    Pssst, Kathy how many feds do you know?
    'Cause you certainly nail them in appearance and behavior.