Daley’s Eight 6

Things moved quickly once Rowan agreed to join the Daley Scholars. Arrangements were made to come pick him up from his dorm that Friday, and on the afternoon of that day, he was greeted by Leo and two other men, dressed in their usual blazers and slacks and apparently there to help him with his stuff.

“Rowan, let me introduce to Robert and Erik. They’re the other two Daley scholars.”

“Pleased to meet you,” the two men said in turn, each grabbing Rowan’s hand for a quick shake. The two men were both astoundingly handsome. Robert had long, black hair resting on his shoulders and the bronze skin of a Native American. His features were very smooth and boyish, almost as if he had still not lost the last hints of baby fat. Erik on the other hand had a nordic look. He looked like a tall, blue-eyed, blond-haired viking, with a light sprinkling of freckles on his cheeks and the rigid seriousness of a soldier in formation.

Rowan had been forced to hastily pack up the few possessions he’d only just recently unpacked, and they had been reduced to two large duffle bags and a rolling suitcase.

“Need any help?” Leo asked.

“I just have these three,” Rowan said. He picked up the two heavy duffel backs in his hands and lifted them up onto his shoulders.

Leo was left with the rolling suitcase, which he grabbed, saying, “Surely we can take one of those.”

“Nah, I got this,” Rowan said and strolled out of the room.

Stuart was there to say his goodbyes and shook Rowoman’s hand, reminding him as he did so, “Don’t be a stranger, now. You’re not going to look down on your old roommate now that your made man, are you?”

“Of course not,” Rowan said as he left.

Rowan walked out the door and through the halls of the dorm, out to a black car that was waiting for them. He placed the bags in the trunk, and three of them sat in the back, while Erik sat in the front seated next to Sophie, who was driving. She looked at Rowan through the rearview mirror and smiled. It was a warm, friendly smile, the first he’d seen from her. “Welcome!” she said.

Rowan simply nodded at her, and the car pulled out of its parking space. There were some moderate snatches of conversation during the drive, and Leo tried engaged in Rowan in conversation about their economics class.

Soon, they were pulling into the private drive of the Daley Estate and passing through a set of automatic gates. It was thick forest on both sides of them of the private drive, and a quiet permeate the area. They pulled up to a circular drive in front of the house and everyone stepped out of the car. In front of them was a huge, white mansion. Everything about it was grand, with a grand entrance and huge bay windows looking out through the front of the house.

Rowan picked up the two duffel bags once again and was led through the front door of the house, which opened into a massive entryway. Sounds reverberated on the stone-tiles floor and a giant chandelier dangled above him.

“Am I going to meet Miss Daley?” Rowan asked as he looked around the house and saw its beautiful adornments

“Ms. Daley is not available,” Sophie said. “She’ll be by later tonight or perhaps tomorrow to greet you. But don’t expect to see too much of her. She’s a busy woman. Come now, we’ll show to the dormitory.”

“Dormitory?” Rowan asked.

Sophie led Rowan down a hall that led to the back of the house. They exited through a back door, greeted by yet more of the dense forest in the back of the house. And off to the right, he saw a brown, single-story structure, built somewhat like a large cabin, made of wooden boards and stone. It had a single door in front and several windows looking out of it on all sides.

The group of them walked to and opened this door and led Rowan inside. The interior consisted of one large room with eight beds in it, a row of four beds against the wall on the left, and a row of four bed against the wall on the right. The beds were spaced out, with freestanding wardrobes between them.

Leo nodded to the bed furthest away from the main door on the left and said to Rowan, “That’s your bed.”

Daley’s Eight 5

Rowan settled into his bed that evening at an early hour, while his roommate sat at his computer in the dark an procrastinated by playing computer games and watching videos. Stuart said “goodnight” as Rowan turned off the light beside his bed. However, instead of trying to sleep, he lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling, where imaginary shapes swirled in the darkness, and thought long and hard about what he was to do.

He was again up early the next morning, and he jogged down to the gym as the sun was just peaking over the horizon. When he reached the parking lot in front of the Athletic Center, he saw the black car parked there once again. Sophie against sat in the driver’s seat, playing chauffeur to an indistinguishable shadow sitting in the back seat. Rowan walked over the driver’s side, and he tapped on the window. Sophie rolled it down, removed her glasses, and looked at him.

“Morning, Sophie. Is that Miss Daley in the back?” Rowan asked, nodding towards the back of the car.

“Yes,” Sophie replied.

“Can I talk with her? Ask her some questions?”

Sophie looked into the rearview mirror to see her passenger’s response, looked back at Rowan, and said “no.” When Rowan looked at her with surprise, she explained, “She’s still a little annoyed that you rejected her offer.”

“I didn’t reject it. I said I’d think about it,” Rowan replied, growing defensive and slightly panicked as he feared that he had been misunderstood. “You told her that, right?”

“Rejection of a lesser degree,” Sophie clarified, “but still rejection.”

Her radiant face registered no emotion as she spoke. When Rowan had nothing to say in response, she wordlessly put her sunglasses back on and rolled up the window. Sophie looked towards the back of the car. He considered tapping on the back window to get Miss Daley’s attention and make another attempt to talk to her concerning some of the questions and doubts that had kept him up the night before, but he thought better of it. He went directly into the gym and commenced his morning exercise, finally stirring his body out of its standing slumber and pulling the sun up above the horizon.

After classes were finished that afternoon, he received a phone call from his mother on his cell. He was sitting in the library, and he told her to wait a minute while he found his way to a stairwell where he could safely talk.

“Mom,” he said, his voice echoing in the silent stairwell, “How’s it going?”

“Good,” she said, “Work’s fine and all. Just wanted to see how college is treating you. Make any new friends?”

“I’ve made some acquaintances,” he answered. He shifted the phone from one ear to the other as he paused in preparation for a change in topic. “I’ve got some good news, though. I was offered a scholarship.”

“Really?” she asked, “That’s surprising. I don’t mean it’s surprising because you don’t deserve it but because they usually settle these things before school starts. But, of course, that’s wonderful. Congratulations. I knew they’d recognize how amazing a student you really are. And I should confess that it’s actually a little bit of a relief. I had a mini panic attack when I saw the bill from Rosewood. Whatever amount they’re giving you will help. So, how much is it for?”

“Is money really so tight, mom?” Rowan asked with real concern. “If you’d just told me, you know I could go out and get a part-time job.”

“No, that’s not necessary. You focus on your studies. Yes, it is just me, and truth be told I went and asked Mr. Thompson for a raise and was rejected, but I’ll figure out a way, no matter what. It’s my own fault really. You were perfectly fine with going to VCU or George Mason, and I told you to go to Rosewood. I knew it was more expensive. So, it’s up to me to deal with it. But you still haven’t told me how much the scholarship was for.”

“Well, it covers room and board, and a little bit of the tuition. But I haven’t said yes yet.”

“Oh,” she said, surprised, but trying to hide it in her silence. “Of course, you have every right to turn it down. I don’t want to pressure you. Whatever you think is best for you. I’ll make do no matter what you decide.”

Rowan guiltily held the phone to his ear in silence. When he finished up the conversation with his mother, he returned to his dorm room, and he picked up the business card that Sophie had given him. It was a nice business card, made of a thick, textured stock with letterpress lettering and a black-colored edge. All that was on it, though, was her name, Sophie Steele, and a phone number. He dialed the number into his phone and listened to it ring.

Daley’s Eight 4

As Rowan was heading back to the dorm in the afternoon, he noticed Leo and Sophie walking together. They were part of a larger group, with two other male students, both wearing similar blazers, and two other female students wearing similar dresses. The way they matched with their coordinated costumes, they looked like some sort of old rock group . The six of them were talking animatedly, smiling and laughing as they walked. They exuded that air of a group that anyone would wish they could be a part of. They then approached a black car, just like the one Rowan saw in the morning, and they all stepped inside.

Rowan returned to his room. and when he entered, he saw Stuart sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall, and reading a book. Stuart looked up when Rowan entered and nodded in his direction. Rowan dropped his backpack to the floor and began pulling books out of it. He’d made a stop at the bookstore to pick up a few of his texts and now put these crisp and shiny texts onto his bed, including a giant Micro-Economics textbook that had set him back more than a hundred dollars.

Stuart was having a hard time concentrating on his reading, and so he looked up at Rowan and asked, “How was your first day?”

“Not so bad,” Rowan said, “Until I went to buy my books. Damn, they’re expensive.” Stuart, not really wanting to further this conversation, simply nodded in agreement. “Strange thing happened to me, though,” Rowan continued. “Some woman, a student I guess, told me I’ve been accepted to be a Daley Scholar.”

Stuart’s eyes burst open wide when he heard this, and he dropped his book and stood from his bed. “Holy shit, that’s awesome. Congratulations,” Stuart said. “I’m going to miss you, but I am going to like having a room all to myself.” Stuart slapped Rowan on the shoulder in congratulations, adding, “Now this doesn’t mean we can’t be friends no more. You can still help a roomy out. I’d especially like you to introduce me one of those Daley Scholar ladies. I don’t care which one. They’re all hot. A bit snooty, I admit, but –”

“I didn’t say yes,” Rowan confessed, interrupting the reverie that Stuart had started to get caught up in.

“You can’t say no,” Stuart said. “No one turns down something like that.”

“Why?” Rowan asked.

Stuart laughed slightly and said, “You’re from Virginia, right? So, I guess they don’t know about that there, but everyone around here knows about the Daley Scholars. It’s like a huge honor. You’re going to have that on your resume the rest of your life. Think about this way, when you graduate from Rosewood, whatever job you want, it’s yours. You also get a scholarship, so you’ll get a little bit of money towards your tuition. Not much. The big thing is that it’ll cover room and board since you’ll be living at the Daley’s house, a big frickin’ mansion not too far from here.”

“So, what’s it like to be Daley Scholar?” Rowan asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t know anyone who’s every been in it. But I’ve heard things,” Stuart began. He sat himself on his bed, getting comfortable in preparation for a more involved discussion. “So, you’ll go live at Daley’s mansion with the other Daley scholars. There’s eight of them, a boy and a girl from every year. And you’ll work there part time. Basically, the students are Mrs. Daley’s personal servants, and you do house like cooking, cleaning, gardening. Nothing horrible, but they do say that Miss Daley’s a bit tyrannical. She’s a widow, so would that be Miss or Ms. or Mrs.?” Rowan shrugged his shoulder. “Whatever, the Daley woman supposedly had a husband who’s a Rosewood alum, so she’s been a big donor for a long time, and the school administration puts up with her eccentricities without bothering her.” He smiled a little, as if trying to assuage the things he said and not let it dissuade him. He then added, with somewhat of a pained look, “I should also say, just so you know exactly what you’re getting into, that people around here don’t really like the Daley Scholars.”

“Why?” Rowan.

“Because they act all elitist and everything,” Stuart said. “They’re like a clique. In fact, they’re the clique, and they just seem to look down at the rest of us, like they’re all privy to some great secret that none of the rest of us know nothing about it and are fools for not knowing about. But you won’t be like that, right? You’ll stay down to earth, right buddy?”

“I still don’t know if I’m going to say yes,” Rowan said.

Stuart his head and said once again, “You can’t say no.”

Daley’s Eight 3

When Rowan arrived in his Micro-Economics class it was a moderate-sized room with theater-style seating. The back seats were elevated somewhat higher than the front rows and the seats radiated around the front of the room where were a clean whiteboard and a professor at his desk.

Rowan was one of the last to arrive, and he squeezed through one of the aisles in front of people to reach a vacant chair. However, he was not the last, since one boy arrived just after him. He was nicely dressed in a pair of khakis and a blue blazer with a striped tie. He bore no backpack, but instead carried his books and notebook under his arm, setting them down on a desk in a corner. Before sitting down, he removed the blazer and draped it over the back of the chair, then settling down and stretching out his body in the chair.

As if on cue, the professor sprang to life right after, beginning the class by announcing, “My name is Professor Rose, and this is Econ 101. Please make sure you’re in the correct class. Almost every year I have at least one student who shows up to this class in error, so if you’re that student, I suggest you stay until the end, since it’s too late to avoid the shame and ridicule of your peers and, really, I think you’ll enjoy the lecture.”

Someone in the class, just as he said this, muttering “oh shit!” stood up and push through the row of desks towards the door, shielding his face with his notebook and trying to make himself as small as possible as he left the room.

The class burst out laughing, and the professor shouted at the departing student over the hubbub, “This is H-129a. If you’re looking for H-129, it’s just across the hall.” He turned back to the class, “I think the person who numbered the rooms in this building did it just to mess with the Freshman. However, enough of that. Let’s get to handing out the syllabus.” At this he pulled out a stack of papers and started handing them out across the room and going over them.

After class was completed, Rowan gathered up his stuff. He happened to noticed the boy in the blue blazer, since, as he picked up his blazer and put it back on, he looked at Rowan rather intently.

As soon as he’d picked up his stuff, the boy hustled over to Rowan and said, “I take it you’re the new initiate. Sophie pointed you out, and I saw you talking to her. It’s great we’ve got this class together. I am looking forward to it. I confess, though Dr. Rose is entertaining and all, looking at his smug face first thing every morning, is not something is not something I’d choose if I could avoid it. But I can’t, unfortunately. My name’s Leo, by the way.”

Leo extended a hand to shake, and and he gripped with a small, delicate hand that Rowan’s firm grip and large hands almost swallowed up. He gave Rowan a lopsided smile with his teeth bared and his eyes sparkling. Rowan could see immediately that that man was a charmer, and he wore that same open, agreeable expression throughout their entire conversation.

“If you’re talking about the Daley Scholars,” Rowan said, “I haven’t decided whether I want to do that yet.”

“Oh, you have to,” Leo said with a big smile, “It’s the best.”

“So, you likw it?”

“Like is the not the word I’d use,” Leo said, his smile growing bigger and a small laugh escaping from between his teeth. “It’s not pleasant, but I’m surviving. Still, that’s not why you do it.”

“Why do you do it?”

“You don’t know?” Leo asked, eyebrows slight contracting as he peered at Rowan quizzically. “Because it’s the best.” He then leaned in close and said confidentially, “Between you and me, if it weren’t the best, I’d never put up with her crap, Miss Daley that is. She’s a harsh mistress.” He then pulled away, and returning to his normal voice, he continued, “But what am I saying? I don’t want to scare you away. You can’t say no. Chances like this don’t come but once. You’ve got to say yes. Don’t think about it. Just tell us you’re in. You’ll never regret it.”

“I don’t know,” Rowan said.

Leo’s smile almost faltered for a minute, then it reemerged stronger than ever, and he said, “What am I worried about? It’s just a matter of time. I’ll see you there.” And then Leo laughed a little.

Daley’s Eight 2

Rowan departed before Stuart even woke up. He had a 9 am class, and he both had to travel a significant distance across campus to reach it and wanted to stop and grab some breakfast before. The dining hall was just starting to come to life at this early hour, and when he left the dining hall, he met some moderate crowds crossing the campus with him. He was dressed casually in a T-shirt and shorts, and he walked quickly with a strong stride, his eyes pointed forward with direction and little attention to anything on either side of him.

He had Micro Economics first. It was his plan to major in Economics, his main reason being that he liked math but he wanted to put it to some profitable use. Pure math and physics were to abstract and theoretical, and engineering didn’t seem quite abstract enough. He had toyed with being a business major but felt that it would be too soft-headed and unchallenging. So, there was his middle ground – something intellectually challenging and useful (or so he figured).

On his way to class, he was intersected by a woman whom he didn’t know. Truth was, aside from his roommate and a few people he’d met during orientation, he didn’t know anyone, so the sight of a new face was unsurprising.

“Excuse me sir, do you have a minute?” she asked him as he walked.

Due to the forward direction of his eyes, he hadn’t noticed her approaching, and he turned to look at her as soon as he heard her voice. If she was any less beautiful, he probably would’ve told her no, but not this woman. She removed sunglasses to reveal her large blue eyes that boldly stared at him, with red lips that curled into something short of a smile. Her face had the quality of someone who both draws men in and pushes them away, like someone both flirtatious and unavailable, someone who is to all appearances promiscuous and inviting but is out of reach of everyone. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back into a braid that was knitted so tight that it was like a long length of rope dangling behind her head. She was dressed in an outfit that seemed to Rowan uncommonly formal for a college student. Whereas many girls would show up to classes practically in their pajamas, she was wearing a dress, a spring dress appropriate for the weather, but still enough to make her stand out.

“I’m Sophie,” she said. “And your name is?”

“Rowan,” he said. After looking at her for another moment, he asked her, “Didn’t I see you in the car this morning?”

“I can’t speak to whether you saw me or not, but I was in the parking lot of the Athletic Center this morning, and your eyes did appear to turn in my direction,” she said with something approaching closer to a smile.

“Then, what was that about? Were you following me?”

“We were inspecting you,” she said, and as she said it, her eyes involuntarily looked him up and down. “I see you’re in a hurry, so I won’t waste your time. You’ve been invited to be a Daley Scholar. Congratulations.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not familiar?” she asked. “You mustn’t be from around here. No matter, suffice it to say that it is a great honor. You’ll be provided with a scholarship and lodging on the Daley estate, where you’ll be employed part-time. If I could simply have your contact details, we’ll speak with you at a more convenient time and arrange for your relocation.”

“Relocation? To the Daley estate? What is this place and where?” Rowan asked, “I have the option of saying no, don’t I? I’m in hurry, can we just talk about this later. I want to find out more before I commit to something like this.”

“You’re definitely not from around here,” she said. “No one says no to being a Daley Scholar.”

“Look, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Rowan backpedaled. “I’ll give it a think, and I’ll get back to you. You’re very kind to offer.”

Sophie made a conspicuous sigh and then reached into her purse and pulled out a business card and handed to him. “You have a week,” she said, “or we find someone else.”

Rowan hastily took the card and turned his back to her, waving behind him and saying, “Thank you, it was nice to meet you. I’ll definitely be in contact.”

Daley’s Eight 1

The Rosewood campus was surrounded by woods, the place somewhat of a hidden enclave that gave the impression, at least so long as one was on campus, of being buffered from the world beyond. The hour was early; the sun was low over the tips of the trees, and Rowan exited from the front door of the Athletic Center.

He was tall and thick in the chest and shoulders, blond hair cropped close to his scalp and a closely shaven beard around the edges of his chin line and around his mouth. He wore a tank top, drenched in sweat, and in his hand he carried a towel that he dabbed on his forehead. He crossed the parking lot and headed towards the main cluster of dorms that were a short walk from where he was.

His mind was solely focused on his most recently complete activity. He thought about his morning’s exercise, about the success or lack thereof of his movements that day, what exercises would commence tomorrow, and how he would accommodate himself to this new equipment in the new gym that he was just today for the first time trying out. Exercise was close to an addiction for him, something that he needed on a daily basis and didn’t feel right when he had to do without. He never quite woke up until his morning routine was finished, and a quick session in the afternoon was like the necessary foreplay to sleep.

He noticed a car in the parking, a black one. It was notable sight since it was the only car in the parking lot and it appeared to be occupied. He could see a woman sitting in the front seat, wearing a pair of large, round glasses on her face, and though he couldn’t see the direction of her eyes behind the glasses, he guessed that she was watching him. And in the back of the car was somebody else, a shape in the shadows, hidden by the tinted windows. He could only see this person through the front windshield of the car as some black outline that occupied the back seats and occasionally shifted position.

It was a detail he probably wouldn’t have committed to memory, one of the many daily observations that passed before his eye and he noticed and then forget – if it weren’t that the car started following him. As he crossed the parking lot and began to ascend up the grassy slope on the opposite side, the car rumbled to life. He was soon walking on the side of the campus loop road, and he heard a car approaching from behind him. He stepped out of the road, walking in a drainage ditch that lined the side of the road, since it had no sidewalk, and he expected the car to pass, but it didn’t. He turned around to look and see if his ears had been deceived, and he did in fact see a car there occupying the road, its motor humming and the motive force of its internal combustion propelling it forward, albeit very slowly. However, it did not pass since the speed of the car was no faster than his own.

Rowan deliberately stopped at this point and turned around to look at the car, expecting that the car would come to a stop beside him and the occupants of the car would roll down a window and speak to him, probably politely explaining to him what had prompted such strange behavior. But that didn’t happen. The car rolled on by and gave the impression that behind the tinted windows eyes were watching him. The car then accelerated to a more normal speed after it had passed him and disappeared around a curve in the road.

When Rowan returned to his dorm room, he quietly opened the door. His roommate was sleeping in his bed, a red-hair-topped head buried in a pillow while he breathed heavily.

Rowan traded his gym towel for his shower towel and headed to the bathroom with soap in hand. When he returned, since his first class—his first ever class as a Freshman in college—was over an hour away, he began something that he’d been putting off for too long, and started to unpack the bags and boxes that he had piled up beside his bed. He had barely begun unpacked since he’d arrived two days ago.

The Five Accounts Part 30

I will do as much as possible to keep Elmville High School out of any press reports concerning the incident.1

Please do not preserve this memo. We will talk soon.

Good day,


Transcript of Security Guard’s Testimony

This is a transcript of a first-hand account of Clement’s Wright assault on Jed Lyon, which I found in Assistant Principal Tutela’s office trashcan. The person is not identified, but it is evident that it is one of the security guards that was present with Tutela and helped break up the fight. Though the transcript was made, it is evident it was not used and was soon thrown away, since I found it the day after, October 3, with all the other supplementary materials. According to another document I found, testimony was taken from both security guards and from Tutela the day of October 3 and recorded. So far as I could find, this transcript alone was trashed.


Me and Ronnie were still around and ready to head home when Tutela came and told us he needed our help. He wanted us to follow one of the students. This was a bit out of the ordinary, but we said okay and went along. He told us afterwards that he’d heard that one of the kids, Clement, the one we were following, was going to be attacking another student. Once he told us Clement’s name, both Ronnie and I were totally on board. Both of us knew that kid was a bully, and we fucking hate bullies. That kid gets us mad as shit whenever we see him.

Tutela drove and we followed Clement’s car, a red sports car, hard to miss. Damn it all if Tutela didn’t turn out to be one hundred percent prophetic. We saw Jed biking home alone. He was on Lake Terrace heading east, biking on the side of the street. Clement just drove right up against him and cut him off with his car.

Jed’s bike, of course, ran into the car. How could he help it when Clement had cut him off like that? Clement got out of his car and we could see the way Clement was yelling at him and pointing to his car. He was making it seem like it was Jed’s fault. It got me real steamed. I wanted out of that car and at Clement right there, but Tutela was slow. He was pulling the car up and slowly settling us into a parking spot. By the time we got out of the car and were running, Clement was already beating the shit out of Jed.

When we got there, Jed was on the ground, on his back and Clement was straddling him with his legs. He was using a ground-and-pound, kneeling on him and using his knees to hold his arms down, while he just pounded away at him with his fists. Ronnie and I grabbed Clement’s arms and pulled him off of Jed. That kid was so fucking scary. He was consumed be rage and if we hadn’t stopped him, I’m damn sure he would’ve killed that kid.

The kid was already majorly fucked up. His face was covered in blood, and his skull was bleeding. His face was going to be permanently fucked up. Of course we called the ambulance right away and we waited with Jed until they arrived. We sat him up to make sure he didn’t choke on his own blood. That kid was crying so hard. You don’t want to know what I would do to Clement if it was him and me in some dark alley. He’d look worse than Jed when I was finished with him.

Tutela searched Clement’s car before the police arrived. I thought he found some weed,2 but I didn’t hear about it later; so maybe it was something else. Whatever.

The whole thing’s fucked up. The ambulance took Jed away and he’s going to be okay. I hope to see him back again. I’ll be sure and keep a closer eye on him next time because that kid’s been bullied all his life, and we got to watch over him.

1. As far as I could find in my research, there was no press coverage of Clement’s assault. Mr. Tutela seems to have been thoroughly successful. –Bob

2. It’s almost certainly because of this detail that this transcript was disposed of. Sadly, the administration of this school is not as incorruptible as these students deserve. –Bob

The Five Accounts Part 29

Tutela’s Memo

I recovered this handwritten memo from Assistant Principal Tutela to Principal Bolton. It was crumpled up and dropped into Principal Bolton’s office trashcan. He had not even bothered to rip it up. It was there in the trash on Oct 3, the same day as Ginny’s note.



I did not want to transmit this electronically, since this is an unofficial memo, related to the events concerning Clement Wright. I am not sure about what details you are aware of at present, and have taken it for granted that you know nothing. I wanted to give a detailed description through unofficial channels before any official action is taken, so that you and I can properly coordinate our public statements.

As I have described to you before, Clement Wright has been a problem since he started as a freshman four years ago. He has been the aggressor in many altercations and has been responsible for many instances of hazing and other violent acts. Despite all this, he has almost entirely avoided punishment, initially because no students were willing to come forward and report him, making the events no more than hearsay without any corroboration, and more recently because he has transferred his violence and hazing to locations beyond the school grounds. I still think that this is a concern for the school because the objects of this violence are students of this school and it is part of a general strategy of intimidation extending to his time at the school. I also believe, though so far without evidence, that he may be involved in the sadly rampant drug trade1 at this school. It may also be possible that his status as a star athlete has led to a certain amount of leniency from teachers and administrators. I should add that I would be loath to add this last detail in an official communiqué, but I think it is a fact and I can trust your discretion.

The incident in question was a violent altercation between Clement Wright and a fellow senior named Jed Lyon. Clement Wright brutally assaulted Jed Lyon shortly after the two of them had completed detention. Jed Lyon was riding home on his bike and Clement Wright intercepted him in his car. Clement Wright knocked Jed Lyon off of his bicycle and proceeded to punch him repeatedly. Me and two of my security guards witnessed the attack and intervened as quickly as possible. We were present on the scene because we had learned from another student that Clement Wright was probably intending to attack Jed Lyon at that time. It was one of the students in detention that day with Clement Wright who had heard him confess to such intentions during detention. After receiving this information, we had followed Clement Wright in concern for Jed Lyon’s safety.

We regret to note that we were unable to intervene soon enough to entirely prevent the event and that Jed Lyon has been hospitalized, but we are quite sure that we were able to prevent more serious, perhaps even permanent injury.

Clement Wright, who is still a minor, was arrested and charges will be brought against him, most probably First Degree Assault and Menacing. There is a good chance he will serve jail time. He will probably also be charged with Minor in Possession and Driving While Ability Impaired since a flask of whiskey was found in his car and he was measured at a blood alcohol level of .04% when he was arrested.

Now I realize that this does fall outside the school’s normal area of punishment, since it did not occur at school or during any school-related event. I also realize that, since Clement Wright has no official history of violence, so far as any official records are concerned, this would appear to be an isolated incident, but I think that the district will be willing to accept expulsion for Clement Wright, due to the severity and illegal nature of his act.

1. I’ve seen evidence of this in the form of marijuana cigarette butts in the trashcans. I have never brought them to the attention of Tutela or Bolton mostly because I do not trust either of these men. –Bob

The Five Accounts Part 28

Not that I believe you owe me something, since straddling your cock while you were sitting at your desk and riding you until we both came together was such a transcendental sexual experience that it’s more than I could ask of you. Rather it just that, call me prudish, but I believe that our act of sexual congress might be considered a bit improper, perhaps even in violation of one or two of the school’s rules. I’ll be sure and review the rulebook, just to make sure. I can’t deny that it was the height of pleasure to stare at your beautiful face with your cock throbbing inside me, to have you touch my breasts and kiss me. I shall fantasize about it and relive it in my mind many, many times as I masturbate. But I think some members of the school administration and the community might consider it unbecoming of a public school teacher.

I can’t deny that I may have been the aggressor. I worked especially hard to seduce you, and you made no effort to take the initiative. I had to almost drag you to your office, and push you into your chair. I had to grab you, to kiss you, and grab your hands to touch me. I had to unbuckle your belt, and I was the one who sat down on your cock. You didn’t even let me linger afterwards. You kicked me out of your office as soon as you were done. Still, you did consent. Your cock even stood to attention for me. That being said, though, I’m still a minor, and that means I’m not genuinely responsible for my actions and that you bear all the guilt. Call it unfair, but that’s the way it is.

Now I admit that in most situations it would simply be your word against mine, and if you were a competent liar, you might be able to get away with it. There might even be some people in this school who don’t exactly trust me, crazy as it may sound, and would accuse me of making it up. For this reason, I took the effort to make a video recording of our encounter. I’ve already reviewed the results of my amateur filmmaking experiment, already relived the ecstasy of our fucking in all its glory, fingering myself while I did so. I achieved a spectacular orgasm in the process (it turns out I was wrong about my first orgasm being the best that day as I had written in the story you read).

My admittedly unprofessional attempt at erotic filmmaking is a bit disappointing. It’s not the type of film to find its way into film festivals and win awards. It’s not even good porn, since it shows you just sitting there passively while I forced myself upon you, but I don’t think that’ll be enough to excuse your actions.

Now I know you already have a habit of grading the prettier girls on a curve. So all I’m asking is that you extend the same courtesy to me. Unless you’d like some other people to witness our wonderful duet, perhaps you might even try grading me as if I was the prettiest of them all. I also reserve the right to ask some other very modest favors of you in the future that I hope you’ll comply with (a few nice recommendation letters for college apps wouldn’t harm either of us, I think).1

I should add that I will remember our sex act fondly, though your performance was of poor quality. You see, the feeling that above all makes a conquest wonderful is the pleasure of accomplishment. It’s the pleasure of working so hard to achieve something and finally succeeding. It’s the pleasure of climbing over barriers that have been set in your way to reach your goal. For that reason, the experience that we shared together will long remain in my memory as one of my most wonderful experiences, and I’m genuinely glad that you got to share it with me. Thank you.

Love and kisses,

Virginia Snow

1. As of the date of publication of this book, neither Ginny’s video recording nor the affair recorded therein have been made public and Mr. Malek is still employed at the school. –Bob