“Getting in shape.”
“What, so you can get in fights again?”
I grinned. “No, so I can run away!” He just snorted at that and I went upstairs and took a shower. I made it quick, since it’s the only bathroom the three of us kids can use. Hamilton was waiting outside the door when I got out, a towel wrapped around my waist.
Hamilton brushed past me into the bathroom. Suzie opened the door to her bedroom and looked out into the hall, to see me standing there with a towel around my waist. “Gross!” she shrieked and slammed the door shut. I laughed and went to my bedroom to dress. I had grossed out my baby sister and it wasn’t even breakfast time. My day was complete! Everything else was going to be like ice cream on top of the pie!
At 8:30 Dad and I drove over to the school. Steiner wanted us to meet him in the parking lot. We found a space in the visitor’s lot. Since none of the kids had cars, none of the spaces were filled by student cars. We got out and waited for the lawyer to show up, which he did about five minutes later. He got out carrying a brief case. His only instructions were for me to keep my mouth shut at all times, and for Dad not to lose his temper. I smiled at this, but Dad glared at me and I promptly found it a good time to look at something else — anything else!
We went inside and I led them down the hallway to the offices. In the future schools would be locked fortresses, with guards and check in procedures, but not back in the Sixties. You just walked in. In the office, we announced ourselves and were sat on the cheesy modernistic couch they had picked up somewhere. A couple of minutes later we were summoned into the Holy of Holies, Mr. Butterfield’s office. He was the Principal, and he and Mr. Warner, the Vice-Principal were waiting for us. Neither was smiling. They really weren’t smiling when my father introduced Steiner as our lawyer.
They got right to the point. I was expelled for attacking children on the school bus. They weren’t at all sure why I wasn’t serving time in the Maryland State Penitentiary already, but they didn’t care. No matter what that cop said the other day, I was history.
Dad’s face got red, but he kept his mouth shut. I just sat there like a bump on a log. When Mr. Butterfield and Mr. Warner ran out of steam, Mr. Steiner spoke up. “Okay, gentlemen, it’s my turn now. Let me make a few things clear.” He opened up his brief case and pulled out several thick documents wrapped in heavy blue paper. Everyone’s eyes went to them immediately. “First, my client is not under arrest and has never been under arrest. He was taken to the police station for questioning and sent home the same day. If you were to say or do anything which implies otherwise, I formally warn you that we will be suing for slander and/or libel.”
They looked at him, stunned. How dare anybody come into the Inner Sanctum to tell them what to do? He ignored their sensibilities. “Next, the three students which my client allegedly attacked have all been arrested. They have been formally charged and arraigned on multiple counts of extortion, conspiracy, assault, and battery. More may be coming. Don’t just take my word for it, either. Maybe you missed it, but it made this morning’s edition of the Baltimore Sun.” He slapped down a copy of the newspaper, with a circle drawn around a small article. No names were mentioned, since everybody was a minor, but the fact that three boys had attacked another on a Towsontown Junior High school bus and had been arrested was noted. “All three boys are currently handcuffed to their beds at GBMC, in the prison ward. A judge actually went out there and arraigned them in the hospital.”
GBMC, the Greater Baltimore Medical Center, was a big hospital in Baltimore County. It was the local trauma center, a good place to go when you got the shit kicked out of you. On a side note, it was also a place you could generally find a cop to make an arrest. Steiner made it sound a lot more dramatic than it really was. At the arraignment, to which the judge brought a public defender, he immediately turned the kids over to their parents and the public defender washed his hands of the whole thing and told the parents they should get their own lawyers.
“So, gentlemen, your premise is incorrect. It is not my client who did the attacking, but your three innocent children. So, here’s how we are going to handle that.” He slapped down one of the blue documents. “That is a court order, a judicial restraining order, prohibiting you from punishing my client without first taking it up with the judge in Family Court. If you do so and lose, which you will, the school district will be responsible for court costs. Additionally, you will open yourselves up, both through the district and in your own persons, to a countersuit. Gentlemen, I will take you to the cleaners.”
He then slapped down a second blue sheaf. “That is another restraining order, ordering you to keep those three boys out of this school and no closer than 500 feet while my client is in school. Copies have also been served this morning on each of those boys and their parents. Gentlemen, you expelled the wrong students. We have corrected your error. Again, failure to obey these restraining orders without judicial approval will result in civil penalties against both the school district and you personally. Is that understood?”
Neither man could do more than stare at the blue documents and sputter incoherently. Steiner continued on. “I think I am going to require something more concrete, gentlemen. I have officially served you with legal orders. Now, I assume you will have counsel for the school district review these, but I assure you, they are quite legal. Now, I expect my client to be able to return to class, today, and ride the school bus home. Is that clearly understood? Please answer.”
Warner was stupefied. Butterfield simply looked at us and said, “Yes.”
Steiner stood up. “Then we are done here. My card, gentlemen, in case you or your attorneys, both the district’s and your own, wish to contact me.” He dropped a few business cards on the desk, and then we all stood up and went out of the office. He led us back to the front door. He stopped there.
“Carl, you stay here. Go to your regular class. If there is any trouble from the teachers or the administration, let your Dad know and he will call me. Don’t do one damn thing that will get you in trouble, okay?”
“Uh, yeah, sure,” I agreed.
“Is this for real?” asked my Dad.
“What the orders? Sure. I play golf with the judge. He’d have to recuse himself, but it will never get that far. Those two are so buffaloed it’s not funny. It’s like Carl said yesterday, a detective beats a bus driver any day of the week. The arrest just nailed them to the cross.” He smiled at me. “Are you in the Boy Scouts, by any chance?”
Where the fuck did that come from? “Uh, yes sir, Troop 896.”
“St. Paul’s? Good for you? First Class yet?”
“Second, but almost to First. Why?”
“I’m the Adviser to an Explorer Post in Timonium. You can transfer when you turn fourteen. I want you to think about it.”
Holy shit! Now I knew where I remembered him from! I had joined that Explorer Post anyway. All I remembered of the leadership was that the Adviser was a rich lawyer and his son was the Post President. Nobody cared, though, since he had a monstrously large SUV that could haul the trailer with all our gear. They specialized in white water rafting, which I thought was infinitely cool!
“What’s the specialty?”
“White water canoeing and rafting. We even have our own canoes and rafts,” he replied.
“Cool! I promise, I’ll give it some thought!”
“Good. We can use a guy like you.” He shook our hands and headed out, followed closely by my father. His words were somewhat more succinct, telling me to stay out of trouble, ‘or else!’