Chapter 2

March 21^st, 2000, Sherry Lindquist

Robbinsdale Cooper High School was quiet now, the busses had left as they always do, twelve minutes after the last bell, the teachers that had somewhere to be were gone, out the door at their contractually agreed upon end time thirty-five minutes after the final bell, and then there were the teachers that didn’t have anywhere else to be, the ones that coached or stayed late grading papers. Sherry Lindquist was the latter, the clock hits 4:45pm and she sits behind her desk grading essays from her senior level creative writing class. She taps her red felt tip pen thoughtfully on the desk as she reads one paper, chuckles as she reads another. Room 124 in the east wing of Robbinsdale Cooper High School has been her home away from home for thirty-one years and seven months, the walls are covered in student work, artwork, essays, and cover designs. Above her desk, in the right corner of her blackboard is a Periodic Table of Literary Elements she made fifteen years ago.

She looks from the papers through the windows of her classroom and spies a pair of robins searching the muddy grass for worms and other early spring treats, she sighs, the February snow has finally melted, and just like the coming spring her life was full of new possibilities. Travel, late mornings, trying restaurants with Howard, finally having time to sit down and write the novel she’s started and left hidden in her closet for years.  She had announced her intention to retire at the end of the year at the last board meeting, a bittersweet announcement, she’s spent more than half her life in this building, this room and in eleven weeks it would be over. Eleven weeks. She looks at the framed picture of her sister Mary standing in front of one of Norway’s majestic Fjords, she planned to go there in August, she hadn’t booked anything yet, but she was going to go. She would spend the summer at her cabin in Duluth, finally drive up to Grand Marais and get the world-famous donuts from World’s Best Donuts.

 Another issued weighed on her, even more than her upcoming retirement did. Sherry Lindquist was methodical, she was observant, and she felt as though she finally had enough information to go to the superintendent, everything she had recorded and documented was in the letter locked in the top drawer of her desk, it felt safer to have it close. For reassurance she had a copy sent by certified mail to her at her sisters address in Duluth, just in case. She’d told Mary that it’s paperwork for retirement and she’ll contact her if she needs it. She’d been sitting on it for eleven days, going back and forth on the proper procedure for something like this.

A knock on her open door pulls her from her thoughts.

“You’re still here,” Coach Andy casually leaned he’s broad frame against the door frame, he wasn’t asking her, he was making an observation. He was in his coaching attire, a navy-blue hoodie with COOPER in orange block letters stitched across the front. Sherry couldn’t believe he could be in shorts at this time of year.

“So are you,” Sherry quips back. Andy smiles, he has a face for public school, and a demeanor to go with it. He’s welcoming and warm, always makes the person he’s talking to feel like the only one in the room. He’s a pillar of the community, he teaches Physical Education and Health, coaches football in the fall, girls’ and boys’ hockey in the winter and assists with track and field in the spring. On top of his school commitments, he’s also a very active member of the Calvary Lutheran Church in Golden Valley.

“Late weightlifting practice for hockey and football, Armstrong has the rink today” he says, his tone is bitter when mentioning the schools rival, he shifts his weight to get a better look at Sherry. “Something on your mind, you look tired?”

“Just end of the year fatigue, you know how March can be.” Andy nods in agreement.

“Easter break can’t get here soon enough,” he says with his charming smile. “If you and the husband aren’t busy, I’d love to save you a seat on my pew for Easter service.”

“I’ll consider it,” Sherry says with a smile, she picks up the next paper she needs to grade.

“Don’t stay too late, Sherry,” with that Coach Andy turns and heads down the hall.

An hour later, at 5:45 on the dot Sherry puts on her puffy purple Columbia jacket, collects the essays from freshman English and puts the letter she’s been putting off giving the Superintendent, Dr. John Johansson, for eleven days into the interior breast pocket, right beneath the zipper. She habitually checks her left pocket for her keys, her right pocket for her thin spring woven gloves. Satisfied with everything, she zips her jacket and heads towards the door, ready for dinner. Howard, her husband, has taken the roast out of the crock pot by now. he knows enough after thirty-three years of marriage that she won’t be home until 6:30. He’s sitting in front of the television waiting for the Timberwolves game to start, they play on the east coast tonight, so the game starts at 6pm central time.  Sherry turns off the classroom lights and closes the door, she’ll be back bright and early tomorrow, one of her favorite things was walking the halls and hearing the students’ gossip, in fact, that’s what started this whole thing.

The cleaners had already made their way through, the familiar hall smells of disinfectant and taco meat, the typical lunch served on Tuesdays at Cooper. Sherry knows these halls better than she knows her own home, which lockers need to be opened in a special way, which water fountains to fill her water bottle with because they run colder than the others. She knows which security cameras are actually functional and which are just there to deter students from smoking weed in the stairwells, she knows where students go to make out after the dances and which rooms to avoid during planning periods. Her steps echo through the empty halls, a sound that is integral to Cooper Senior High, her black flats, the same pair black Kate Spade shoes she buys every August are worn now, they will be the last pair she’ll ever buy. The soft padding of the soles on the marble floor relaxes her, even though the days are getting longer the early spring twilight is quickly turning black as she reaches the east stairwell, the lights flicker in the stairway. Sherry is deep in thought about the letter, how will Superintendent John Johansson respond, should she have mailed a copy to the Union President, no, she wants the processes to play out, allow the proper channels.

“Good night Mrs. Lindquist,” a student says while walking down the stairs, she looks his direction and smiles. He’s sweaty and is carrying a hockey bag over his shoulder, a baggy Cooper Hockey sweatshirt and gray sweats finish his outfit. He looks tired, and his shaggy blonde hair is matted down.

“You’re here late,” Sherry says with a smile, she is particularly fond of this young man, he’s a loner and tries so hard to fit in.

“Coach had some of stay late to work on some shooting form in the gym, and I forgot my pre-calculus homework in my locker.” He seems nervous.

“No need to over explain yourself, sweetie,” he instantly relaxes. “Tell your mother I said hi and get home safe.”

He beams, clearly relieved he’s not getting in trouble for being in school after hours with no supervision. “I will, have a good night.” He hops down the stairs and Sherry turns her attention back to the ascent of the stairs, it never gets easier.

She’s three steps from the top when the door at the top opens, in the flickering light Sherry can just make out the navy-blue hoodie of Andy Thorsen.

“Andy,” she sounds surprised, “I would’ve thought you’d be home by now.”

“I forgot something,” and Andy Thorsen comes down the stairs.