The next morning, with her dad’s advice, she didn’t text him for the rest of the evening and drove over to pick him up for school. She got up at 5:30, out of stress, and put on her best look. Her hair was perfect, a braid over her shoulder, her makeup was perfect, the shower was long, and she smelled great, and her outfit had no wrinkles. Victory is inevitable, and Timothy will be back in a good mood with an apology and a kiss as soon as she drives up to his driveway.
Except he didn’t come out of the house. The car idled for a beat as she expected him to practically skip down the walkway as he always does. She waited and waited. Then she texted, and she got no response. Sighing, she hustled to the door and knocked, and Kayla opened the door.
“Sarah,” taken aback by her outfit, she said, “you look nice.”
“Thanks. Is Timothy home?”
“No, he decided to ride his bike after a dog walking session.”
Maybe he can’t answer his phone as he’s on his bike? “Oh.”
“Did something happen? He was pretty quiet last night.”
“Yeah, I uh, scolded him a bit.”
“What did he do?” Kayla got stern.
Sarah raised her hands, calming down what she hoped to be her future mother-in-law. “Nothing. I misunderstood something.”
“Ah, I see. He’ll be fine. Thanks again for taking in Twain. The police have been over twice already.”
Twice? Kayla wasn’t kidding about someone wanting to euthanize Twain. “Don’t mention it. Have a good morning,” she said, stepping back and turning back to Kayla. “Any breakfast burritos?”
Kayla tilted her head. “What?”
“You always make breakfast.”
She shook her head. “Timothy does all the cooking.”
“Oh, right,” she said. “Forgot.”
Back in her car, she slammed the steering wheel with the palm of her hand. She assumed the mom had been cooking once she got home from her night shift. Timothy has been contributing to their relationship, he just never said he was.
That’s so like him, she thought.
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At school, the Liam celebration hadn’t ended. The scoreboard now displayed a hand in a cast that covered the pinky index finger and was shaped in a resting position so the fingers could still settle on the curve of the football.
This time, in lieu of firetrucks, a community last-minute parade of cars honked their horns, and tin cans bounced behind. Police guided traffic so that students could get into the parking lot.
She rolled her eyes as she pulled into the parking lot. Before she walked in, she spotted Timothy’s bike locked up, and she felt a sting from that. After saying hi to acquaintances and getting nods and waves from the small group of cheerleaders that didn’t associate with Alicia, she made her way to her locker, then straight to Math class. Timothy was in his seat, head down, back to his old ways. She approached with caution, setting her books down loud enough to make a noise, telling Timothy she was at her desk. Nothing. He didn’t move at all. She coughed. Nothing. She texted him, but his vibrating phone didn’t deter him. His hand that stuck out under his arm holding his phone tightened to stop the vibration.
Space. Armed with her dad’s advice, she sat without saying another word.
When class ended, Timothy rushed out as he used to, going right past Sarah without saying a word. Gym was the same, with all the side basketball hoops down to allow multiple games going on, he intentionally went to the opposite end of the court to not play with or against Sarah. He ended up playing against Liam (who dribbled and shot the ball left-handed with no problems) and Rory, and preferred their constant harassment of blocks, balls thrown at his feet to force an out, and getting pushed so hard his body would slide on the court several feet each time. He didn’t complain once.
He did the same in English. Not looking anyone in the eye as he rushed down the halls and to his desk. Sarah tried to meet him in the hall, but he kept going.
She noticed he kept staring out the window during class, even as Mrs. Witman called on students. Surrender sat in for her, She decided to corner him at his home later, or honk at him later while he rides his bike home until he surrenders.
Multiple police officers came into the room. One after the other, and they didn’t acknowledge Mrs. Witman or any other students. The one in front pointed to Timothy. He was taken aback as they surrounded his desk. One officer stood out, Officer Pace. Intimidating could hardly describe his presence in front of Timothy. Yet, Timothy didn’t move, and he kept staring out the window.
“Hands,” Officer Pace said. With how slow Timothy responded, they grabbed him and forced him out of his chair.
“Get your hands off him you filthy cunts!” Sarah yelled at them
The five officers froze in their tracks, stunned. They all knew who she was, and despite being a teen girl, her voice reverberated through everyone.
Officer Pace spoke up. “He brought a bomb to school.”
The class gasped, and Timothy raised a brow, confused. “No, I didn’t.”
“Then why aren’t we evacuating the school?”
“Now is not the time, Miss Carr,” Officer Pace pointed at her.
They read him his rights and dragged him by the arm out of the classroom.
Mrs. Witman waited a moment. “Well, that takes care of that problem.”
“What exactly was the problem?” Sarah said.
“You heard the officer, now is not the time.” She continued the class as if nothing had happened.
Rumors about Timothy and this so-called bomb spread like wildfire.
