The max porter box set, p.47
The Max Porter Box Set, page 47
“Because I trust you.” He could feel his teeth gritting together. This looked bad. If Principal Hardy walked in soon, she would see what she expected — disharmonious parents who were doing a horrible job raising their boy.
“Saying you trust me doesn’t make it so. Not when your actions show me the opposite.”
Max opened his mouth, but he heard the click of heels. When the doorknob turned, he and Sandra sat with smiles plastered on their faces. He got up and put out his hand. “Principal Hardy, pleasure to meet you.”
Carrying a coffee mug and a skeptic’s grin, Principal Hardy looked like she had served in administration for too many years. Part of her probably yearned to get back into the classroom, while another yearned to be done with school altogether. Problem children like PB pushed her towards the latter.
She sat at her desk with a wearied sigh. “Good afternoon, Mr. Porter, Mrs. Porter. I’m sorry to have to call you in so soon.”
“It does seem rather strange,” Sandra said, her voice mellow and melodic as she overcompensated hiding her anger from moments before. “It’s only the boy’s first day. Unless you’re going to tell me he set a student on fire, I can’t imagine what he could have done.”
Max looked sideways. “He didn’t set anyone on fire, did he?”
“No,” Principal Hardy said, her expression caught between an amused chuckle and a horrified gasp. “But he has had a rather difficult day adjusting.”
“What does that mean?”
She opened a file folder and flipped through several pages. Max tried to understand how, after less than one full day, the school could have that many pages in a file on the boy.
“As I understand it,” the principal said, “you are not actually his parents. Correct?”
Sandra crossed her legs and sat back. “We have an unusual situation. Both PB and Jammer J were homeless. We gave them work, so they could earn an income, and together, they rent an apartment. We had no idea how young they were until it was brought to our attention that they should be in school.”
“I’m guessing you don’t have any other children.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s easier to tell ages when you’ve watched it happen in front of your eyes.”
Sandra paused, and Max inwardly cringed. She smiled harder. “Perhaps you’re right. Regardless, we thought the boys should go to school, and Max’s mother — she lives here and also helps with the boys — she brought them in and registered them.”
“But neither you nor your husband nor your husband’s mother, none of you are the legal guardians, correct?”
“The boys don’t have any parents. But we’re taking care of them.”
“You understand I’ll have to call Social Services. These boys will need to be put into foster homes so their well-being can be looked after and monitored.”
Sandra sat forward. “We’re the ones who got them off the streets.”
“And that’s commendable. But now it’s time for them to get a more stable situation.”
“You think we’re not good enough, is that it? The boys want to be with us and we’re happy to take care of them.”
“Then why haven’t you become their legal guardians?”
“Just because we didn’t file the proper papers, you want to screw these boys even worse now? They’ve had a shit life. Their parents abandoned them. We’re the only adults who’ve given them anything but pain, and you want to destroy that?”
“Of course not. I want what’s best for these boys.”
“Then why the hell are we here? Let them go to school and that’s that.”
“It’s not so simple.”
Max put his hand on the desk, trying to return a calm tone to the conversation. “We didn’t realize that official guardianship was necessary. It never occurred to us, and that was our mistake. But we’re happy to comply with whatever paperwork needs to be done and process the whole thing as fast as possible so that you are not in any trouble, no liability issues, or anything. If need be, we’ll happily sign waivers of any sort to cover the school in the interim. But there’s no need to pull the boys from their classes and uproot their lives again over paperwork.”
Principal Hardy pinched her brow with two fingers. “J is a fine young man. He seems eager and happy to be here. If we were simply talking about him, I’d have no problem with keeping him in the school provided you went through the legal process.”
“Great. Let’s do that.”
Sandra crossed her arms. In a dark tone, she said, “The problem, honey, is PB.”
Clearing her throat, Principal Hardy said, “Yes, well, he is another matter. In this single day that he’s been here, I have write-ups on PB — disruptive in class, uses inappropriate language, tried to bribe a teacher, propositioned several girls for sexual favors, and finally, he punched a student.”
“He’s had it rougher than J,” Max said, not knowing if that were true. “And he’s played the part of J’s big brother for a long time. He’s had to protect J from the ugly side of the world.”
“That’s part of the problem, too. On his own, J does remarkably well considering his limited education. But whenever the two boys are together, J’s behavior diminishes rapidly.”
Sandra glowered at the principal. “I see. Now you’ve decided that, through lack of good parenting on our part, PB is a bad influence on J and possibly the rest of the school. That about right?”
“I am not accusing you two of anything, and I don’t want to fight.”
“Then why did you call us in here and start insulting us?”
“That was not my intent.” Principal Hardy grabbed a pen in a death grip. “I am sorry. My interest is only for the welfare and education of those boys. Can we agree that you share that same interest?”
“Of course I do. There’s no need to be patronizing.”
Hoping to pull things back from their teetering edge, Max said, “Perhaps we should discuss some ways to help PB adjust. Clearly we all were wrong to just throw him into a school day.”
Principal Hardy said, “We’re sorry about that. We didn’t know he had such behavioral problems — however they came to be. And yes, we need to figure out a better way to acclimate him, but first, we have to deal with the consequences of today’s behavior.”
Sandra’s fingers curled up. “We can deal with him at home.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be enough. Not until you’re officially his legal guardians. And, frankly, he needs a hard lesson right away that bribing teachers and hitting students is unacceptable. I also think that this is an important moment to teach J that following PB’s footsteps will only bring him trouble. So, both boys are hereby suspended for three days.”
“What?”
“If, after that time, you can show that you have begun the process of taking legal guardianship of these boys, we’ll allow J to return. At that time, we can discuss how best to ease PB into school society.”
Bolting to her feet, Sandra thrust her finger at the principal. “Of all the crap I’ve ever seen, you are so full of it that the smell is turning my stomach. You dare to sit behind your little desk and condemn us as bad parents, you dare to say that we don’t have the kids’ best interests at heart, yet you want to go punish J for PB’s behavior. Not to mention the idiotic lesson to a boy who resists going to school that if he misbehaves, he won’t have to go school! Oh, you’re batting a thousand, lady.”
Max didn’t know if he should stay seated, stand up, or run. With astounding self-control, Principal Hardy sipped her coffee before speaking in a soft voice. “While we’ve been chatting, the boys were brought to the office. They’re waiting out by the front desk.”
Sandra continued to flag her finger at the principal. “If you think I’ll let this slide, you’re gravely mistaken. I’ll talk to the school board about this.”
“I’m sure you will. You can get their number out front as you leave. But please remember that I’m trying to give everybody the best shot at success. If you’d rather not rise to the challenge, I can always call Social Services.”
Max jumped to his feet and took hold of Sandra’s hand before she lost complete control. They did not need to deal with her clocking the principal in the eye. “Thank you for your time. We’ll get the paperwork started and see you in three days.”
Escorting Sandra out to the front desk, Max thought he may have averted a catastrophe. Then he saw PB and J staring wide-eyed at them and wondered if a different catastrophe had begun. But PB smiled. Just a flash before he remembered to look ashamed. Enough to tell them that he appreciated Sandra fighting for him.
“Come on,” Max said. “Back to the office. I still have plenty of work to do.”
J handed a piece of paper that had all the official suspension information on it. Sandra stared at the yellow form as her tension abated. “Well, shit,” she said and they left the school.
Chapter 13
IN RETROSPECT, Max should have called his mother and had her show up at the school, too. It would have been ugly, but it would have been far better than the new burst of fighting that erupted in their downtown office when Max and Sandra arrived with the boys.
After rehashing the principal’s arguments — ones Mrs. Porter supported — she decided to open fresh wounds. “This is so typical. The two of you have no clue what you’re doing, so instead of asking or learning, you just barrel on through it all.”
Sandra stomped toward her desk. “We can’t all be as subtle and gracious as you.”
“If you’d been smart and kept your mouth shut, J would still be going to school tomorrow.”
Max sat in his chair with his legs on the desk. He flipped open his laptop and checked his email. He wanted to do research, but he had to wait for the yelling to stop.
Drummond popped his head out of the bookshelf. “If you need a drink, feel free to grab the whiskey.” Drummond had several hollowed out books that contained flasks of whiskey. Though the ghost couldn’t drink it anymore, Max had kept them filled — originally as a gesture to his friend, but later as a necessity for his own uses. If the boys weren’t in the room, he might have swung back a taste or two.
“J is learning a lesson, too,” Sandra said, shooting a look at Max that dared him to make a comment. “He needs to make his own choices and not follow PB all the time.”
J sat on the couch with his first-ever math homework on his lap. At first, Max thought J merely buried his head in work to avoid the fight — much like he did — but he could see the way J went over the problems and thought them out. When he finished one, checked the answer, and saw he was correct, a satisfied nod and a quick smile followed.
PB, on the other hand, watched the arguing adults closely. At length, he blurted out, “I didn’t even want to go in the first place. Y’all think you get to decide about my life, but this is for me to do. I’m the one that’s got to go every day.”
Mrs. Porter blazed a glare at him. “And what do you plan to do? I’m assuming you’ve decided to cause trouble until you are no longer welcome at the school. Was that your brilliant plan? Because that’s a child’s plan. A real adult deals with problems. They don’t run away.”
“I’m not running.”
“Sure looks it to me.”
“Hey,” Sandra said. “Don’t belittle him.”
“Oh, now you want to be a parent?”
Sandra’s hand flattened at her side, and Max feared she would slap his mother. His stomach soured. Rarely had he seen either woman in such furious form.
Mrs. Porter went on, “Not only are the both of you clueless as to how the world works, but you honestly don’t even see the trouble coming your way.”
“We see far more of the world than most,” Sandra said.
“Then why aren’t you worried? Do you really think the school principal will risk her job to bend the rules for you? The only reason she said she wouldn’t call Social Services was to get you two out of her office.”
That caused everybody to pause.
In a less biting tone, Sandra said, “She promised she’d give us a few days to get things in order.”
“Maybe she will, but I wouldn’t put any money on it.” To PB, Mrs. Porter added, “You see what you’re causing? The State will come in and take you boys away. They’ll throw you in separate foster homes and you’ll probably never see us or each other again.”
PB pounded his fist against the bathroom door. “They can’t do that.”
J kept his head down, but his pencil had stopped moving.
“They can and they will,” Mrs. Porter said. “If we’re lucky, this principal has a heart or at least the honor to stick by her word. But I don’t put any faith in that. We’ll have to wait and see if a social worker comes knocking on our doors.”
Sandra said, “Will you stop terrifying these kids?”
“I’m giving them the truth.”
“Really? Because you don’t know for a fact any of that is happening. If the principal wanted to call in Social Services, she would have done so while we were in her office — or before we even showed up. No way would she have allowed PB and J to come home with us.”
“Now you’re an expert on Social Services?”
And the fighting continued. Max closed his laptop, grabbed his coat, and headed for the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
He couldn’t tell whether that was his mother or his wife. Didn’t matter, though. His answer was the same. “We’ve still got a case to work. So, before they cancel their check, I’m going to the library and getting some work done. You two can fight all night, but it won’t change anything here.”
Max left, making sure to close the door before either of them could retort. He hustled down the hall, down the stairs, and down the street until he reached his car. Once he pulled into traffic, he could feel his pulse slacken. He still heard the arguments in his head, still worried about what the world had waiting for the boys, but by the time he reached Wake Forest University, he had calmed his mind enough to focus on research. He parked and walked toward the Z. Smith Reynolds Library — ol’ reliable.
Often when he entered this sanctuary of knowledge, he allowed himself a few moments to enjoy the architecture — two separate buildings brought together by turning the alley between them into a sky-lit, open air workspace. The former outer-walls became balconies overlooking the numerous tables on the carpeted floor, and all around, students had their heads buried in books, computers, and phones.
Max chose a table in the back corner and set up his laptop. Next to that, he opened a notebook — some old habits die hard — and he wrote Black at the top. Candace’s final word hopefully meant something.
But what to search for?
His still fingers rested on the keyboard. The word Black would bring up endless hits about everything from the color itself to racial discussions to an album by Metallica. None of which would help.
However, the word came from a witch, and for witches, colors held specific meanings. Color in relation to witchcraft also created different results — blue candles, white candles, every color candle changed the results of a spell. Even black.
In the search bar, Max typed: color black and witchcraft. After clicking on several links, and avoiding the more obvious references to black magic, he found enough similar information stating that black symbolized negation, canceling, unburdening, and most interestingly, the breaking of curses. Though he did not feel strongly about this avenue of research, he decided to delve a little deeper.
I could call my wife. Except Max knew he would not. The idea of asking her to look into witchcraft would have been foolhardy at any time lately, but under the current circumstances and right after he left her to fight with his mother — that would be suicidal.
After nearly thirty minutes of combing through witchcraft websites, however, Max had to admit that either he needed Sandra to point the way or that he had taken a wrong turn. He had learned that by the “old Earth code” of witchcraft, the color black centered in the feet and associated with reflection. Mirrors were a big deal, too. Then other sites suggested that the color black meant the canceling of reflections, but perhaps that was part of the “new Earth code,” if they even called it that.
He made a note that he would have to ask Sandra at some point, yet he did not feel confident any of it mattered. Research, by definition, meant taking wrong turns at times, and this had all the hallmarks of a wrong turn.
“Then it’s back to the start,” he said to the screen.
He typed: black and north carolina. As expected, the results crossed a wide spectrum — Black City, Black Mountain, African Americans in North Carolina, articles on black culture in the South and in North Carolina, Black laws of 1844, the Woolworth Lunch Counter protest, and much more. Max was fishing for a morsel that might stick, but he saw little that made him think Candace had been referring to anything on his screen.
This was her dying word — black. After all she had suffered, why would she waste her breath when the people who had come to save her had finally arrived? She wouldn’t. She must have been trying to communicate something of value with them.
Again, he went back to the search bar: black and goodman witch hunters. This brought up nothing useful, especially considering the top hit referred to an article titled, “Is actor John Goodman secretly black?”
Leaning his chair back, he gazed up at the skylights several stories above. He knew nothing about Candace. Once again, he recognized that Sandra, having interviewed several witches, might have provided some answers to that mystery — another thing he would have to ask her about later. He knew both Candace and Laverne had suffered a horrible death, but he had no good way of searching for information on the kind of spell involved — not without Sandra’s help. She had the books that wouldn’t be available on the internet, many not even on the darknet. He knew that the Mobley Coven had been marked by the Goodman hunters, but like all else in this case, both groups worked at keeping themselves out of the history books and the public record — as much as possible.
