“Come in.”
I enter with a smile that quickly dies when I see the superintendent of the school board is with her. “Mr. Jacobson,” I blurt in surprise, confused as to why he would be here.
“Miss Bradshaw.” He nods in greeting.
“Come in, Olivia, and close the door,” Veronica says, her usually bland expression more impassive.
My stomach sinks with dread, instinct telling me I’m not going to like whatever this is about.
I close the door behind me then take the seat across from her. “I’m glad I caught you before you left. Mr. Jacobson and I have been discussing the severity of the situation.”
“The note, you mean?” I ask, wanting to clarify exactly what situation we’re talking about.
“Well that too, yes, but more so the situation that our school is in right now, after the incident with Jamal.”
“What do you mean?” Annoyance flashes in her eyes, as if she shouldn’t have to elaborate. “I’m asking because we have lost students from this school before. So I’m trying to understand what you’re meaning by the severity of the situation.”
“Listen, Miss Bradshaw,” Mr. Jacobson starts, “due to the circumstances surrounding Jamal’s death, we feel it would be in your best interest to not teach here anymore.”
My jaw drops in disbelief. “What? You’re firing me? But why? I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I’m sorry, Olivia,” Veronica says, not sounding sorry at all. “To keep the peace at this school it’s best for everyone. A lot of people here really cared about Jamal—”
“So did I.” I shout, losing my patience. “How dare you insinuate otherwise. What happened with Jamal is heartbreaking but my grandfather didn’t do anything wrong. He thought we were in danger. He was just protecting us.”
“From a boy?” she asks in a snarky tone that has me grinding my teeth.
“We had no idea who it was.”
“How could you not know?” she snaps. “You have taught him for the past year, Olivia!”
Her accusation has my temper spiking to a whole new level. “I wasn’t out there and it was dark, we didn’t even get a good look at them. You have no right to accuse differently. And for the record, my grandfather has been cleared of all charges.”
“Well, that’s no surprise.”
“That’s enough, Veronica!” Mr. Jacobson scolds, though it’s clear he feels the same way she does.
I shake my head, not believing any of this. “I love these students. I have bent over backward raising money for this school so these kids could have more, and spent countless hours of my free time with them, because I care. You have no right to do this.”
“This is best for everyone, especially you, Miss Bradshaw. Just look at the note that was left for you this morning, on your desk,” Mr. Jacobson remarks.
I look to Veronica. “And did you question De’Shawn Miller about it?”
Her chin lifts. “No, I didn’t. I can’t just go around accusing people when I don’t have proof.”
“I didn’t say to accuse, I told you to ask him about it. He’s been the most hostile toward me since I returned.”
“Which is why it’s best that you teach somewhere else. This was bound to happen sooner or later.”
“How so?” I grind out, curious as to why she would feel that way.
“This is a predominantly black school. In all honesty, you really don’t belong here. You never have.”
A disbelieving breath escapes me as I shake my head. I stand, refusing to listen to any more of this bullshit. “You aren’t going to get away with this. What you’re doing is prejudice and illegal. I’m going to fight you on this. I’ll fight for my job.” Turning, I storm out of her office before I say something I can’t take back.
My heart pounds furiously as I make my way to the faculty parking lot. It isn’t until I’m inside my car that I let go, allowing my tears to flow freely. I cry for me, for Pap, and for the injustice of it all. In a matter of days my entire world has crumbled around me, and I’m tired of feeling like I have to defend Pap’s actions as well as my own. It’s not right, none of this is, and I meant what I said back there, I will fight for my job. I’m not going to let them dismiss me, as if I did something wrong. My job matters to me.
Those kids matter to me.
Holding on to that resolve, I pull out of my parking space and head home. As soon as I turn on Green River, the back road I take every day on my way home, my tire blows. “You have got to be shitting me!” I drop my forehead on the steering wheel with a thud, wondering what else could go wrong today.
With a frustrated huff, I step out of the car and walk around to my trunk for my spare. As I lean inside to grab the tire, the sound of a vehicle fast approaching stops me in my tracks.
No one ever drives down this road but Pap and me.
Spinning around, I cup a hand over my eyes to block the glare of the sun and see a big black truck slam on its brakes only a few feet in front of me. Its screeching tires have my instincts kicking in. Just as all doors swing open I turn and run to get back in my car, but I don’t make it. A scream rips from my throat when someone grabs me from behind.
“Shut up, bitch!” A meaty hand brutally covers my mouth, the man’s angry voice sending icy terror coursing through my veins. “Hurry up and put the fucking bag over her head. Hurry!”
“No!” I cry out behind the pressure of his sweaty palm, struggling against the arms locked tight around me.
I briefly catch a glimpse of someone dressed all in black before a burlap sack is thrown over my head. I fight with everything I have as my feet drag on the ground, kicking and screaming until my throat is raw.
“Shut her the fuck up!”
As soon as the order is given, a hard object strikes me at the back of my head. The pain is so sharp that my knees buckle beneath me as darkness dances along the edge of my vision. My struggle weakens by the single blow. A pair of hands grab my feet and carry me the rest of the way.
I yelp as I’m roughly thrown in the back of the truck. Another bout of strength surfaces when I feel my wrists being tied together. “No, stop, please!” I beg, fighting the cruel hands grabbing me.
“Hold her the fuck still.”
A hard boot meets my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. “Stop moving, bitch!”
My mouth opens on a silent scream, trying to take in a breath that I can’t grasp. I’m flipped to my side as a heavy weight settles on top of me to hold me in place. A rough hand shoves up my dress and cups me painfully between my legs. A new kind of fear grips me, drawing a pleading whimper from my throat.
Please, God, this can’t be happening.
“Hurry the fuck up! We’re running out of time!” someone snaps.
“I got it. Go, go, go!”
The weight crushing me cruelly into the hard bed of the truck lifts, easing the pressure from my lungs. Seconds later, the vehicle jerks forward at a fast speed. I cry out at every bump we hit, my throbbing, broken body bouncing painfully. I fight to keep conscious, praying someone stops them, and someone will find me.
It isn’t long before we come to a stop. The sound of the tailgate dropping is the only warning I get before I’m dragged out and carried by two men. I keep still, trying to save my strength for when I have a chance to escape.
“Stop here. This tree is perfect,” someone orders before I’m dropped to the ground.
I bite back a scream as I hit the earth with a hard thud, the impact jarring through my shattered body.
“Set the whore up on her knees first.”
I’m yanked up and situated on my knees with my wrists tied in front of me, rough hands gripping my arms to keep me upright. My eyes squeeze shut as the bag is ripped off my head, the brightness of the sun making my stomach rebel and my head throb.
“Look at me, bitch!”
With a shaky breath, I open my eyes and squint at the man before me, my gaze foggy from the powerful hit to the head.