The primary aim of the "Novel Excerpts" blog category is to showcase my creative writing, specifically from the novels I've written. Hopefully, these posts will provide a glimpse into my storytelling style, themes, and narrative skills. It's an opportunity to share my artistic expressions and the worlds I've created through my novels.
The Boaz Schoolteacher, written in 2018, is my fifth novel. I'll post a chapter a day over the next few weeks.
Book Blurb
In the summer of 2017, Katie Sims and her daughter Cullie, moved from New York City to Katie’s hometown of Boaz, Alabama for her to teach English and for Cullie to attend Boaz High School . Fifteen years earlier, during the Christmas holidays, five men from prominent local families sexually assaulted Katie. Nine months later, Katie’s only daughter was born.
Almost from the beginning of the new school year, as Katie and fellow-teacher Cindy Barker shared English, Literature, and Creative Writing duties for more than 300 students, they became lifelong friends.
For weeks, Katie and Cindy endured the almost constant sexual harassment at the hands of the assistant principal. In mid-October, after Cindy suffered an attack similar to Katie’s from fifteen years earlier, the two teachers designed a unique method to teach the six predators a lesson they would never forget. Katie and Cindy dubbed their plan, Six Red Apples.
Read this mystery-thriller to experience the dilemma the two teachers created for themselves, and to learn the true meaning of real justice. And, eternal friendship.
Chapter 5
“Rex and Rose Mary were the most appalling human beings I’ve ever seen. The poor kids. I think they should have been taken away from their deplorable parents and placed in foster care.” Cindy said as we exited the Cinema 16 in the Gadsden Mall.
“They were a dysfunctional family no doubt, but I was inspired how the brilliant and charismatic Rex captured the imaginations of his four children. He taught them physics, geology, and how to fearlessly embrace life.” I said, a little surprised by Cindy’s narrow interpretation of The Glass Castle.
“What good does the imagination do when the four darlings are cold, hungry, totally unkempt?” Cindy added as we walked to the Food Court in the middle of the mall. Cullie and Alysa, Cindy’s daughter, should be waiting at a table close to Chick-fil-A. “I’m not condoning the father’s dishonesty and destructiveness while he was drunk, but he and his wife were free-spirits and non-conformists. Maybe that was the little gold nugget buried under Rose Mary’s abhorrence of domesticity and the more traditional role as a mother raising a family.” As we turned the corner towards the Food Court, I was relieved to see our two girls waiting.
“To me, real nonconformist’s parents are folks that reject the allure and temptations of the world and instead immerse their children in the church to teach them fixed, universal and unchanging principles.” Cindy said, stopping to look at a black and gold skirt and jacket displayed in the window of the Dress Barn. “I guess that was my way of inviting you and Cullie to church tomorrow.”
“Come on Miss Perfect, the girls are probably starving. And, that outfit could be your first step towards Hell.” I said thankfully that Cindy and I had so easily connected through our work and now we are developing a friendship. I was surprised, almost shocked. I literally sucked at making friends.
“Did you find the jeans you were looking for?” Cindy asked Alysa. I was also thankful that Cullie and Alysa were attempting to connect. I guess the two afternoons this week that Cindy and I had made them sit in the back of my room as we compared notes on how we intended to teach Macbeth, starting in a couple of weeks, had given the two ninth-graders just enough of a spark to launch a friendship. It made me envy their age and ignorance. They were too young to have acquired a lot of the baggage me and most every adult started acquiring as the school years became history and the grind of work and family took over.
“We did. And, we also bought matching blouses. Except for the color.” I overheard Alysa tell her mom.
“That’s confusing. If they aren’t the same color, how do they match?” Cindy, always the analyzer.
“The cut, the style.”
“Anyone hungry?” I had eaten popcorn in the theater but knew Cullie was probably starving. She was smart enough to not spend the money I had given her on food, instead using it all for clothes.
“I could eat a horse.” Alysa said, focused on her cell phone. She had been reading and texting since she had first come into my line of vision.
“Here’s twenty bucks, go buy us some sandwiches.” Cindy said, handing the money to Alysa.
“No, I’ll pay for Cullie’s. I don’t think I want anything.” I said.
“You paid for the movie. I’ve got this.”
After the girls wolfed down grilled chicken sandwiches, waffle potato fries, and fruit cups they convinced Cindy and me to let them return to the sale at Belk’s. I was glad Cindy instructed Alysa to remember she is not allowed inside Victoria’s Secret.
“Let’s move away from this crowd. I told Cullie where we would be.” We picked up the girls’ shopping bags and walked to the center of the Food Court where there were ten or more unoccupied tables and only an older couple within thirty feet of where we settled.
“What’s Steve up to today? I was surprised he let you and Alysa come with us.” I said, still trying to understand how normal people live.
“He and his brother were going fishing. I just love fishing. Not for me but for him. It’s the only time I get any breathing room on the weekends.”
“I figured you two were still as inseparable as you probably were in high school.”
“You can’t remember that. I didn’t go to Boaz.” Cindy said, exploring Alysa’s shopping bags.
“Sorry, I guess I’m confusing you with Charlene Bonds.”
“Oh. Well, you know absence makes the heart grow fonder. I told you I loved fishing. It seems our sex life took on a whole new dimension after he and Sean bought that silly bass boat.” Cindy said with a sly little grin.
“Okay, I don’t need any details.”
“All I’ll say is there’s something tantalizing about watching your man fillet fish. And, that doesn’t even address what the fishy smell does to my hormones.” I was seeing a side of traditional mom Cindy that I hadn’t expected.
“Enough, enough. I am seeing Steve, and you in that black and gold outfit, and smelling the fish. Let’s talk about Literature.” I had to change the subject. I could not admit I wanted to know more. Cindy had no idea how lucky she was to have Steve, a hard-working, honest, and faithful husband. I almost had the beginnings of that little sensation that I used to get when Colton would take me in his arms and push me against the wall of my apartment when he would visit us in New York City. That was four years ago, and three years since I had heard from him. I couldn’t imagine Steve just up and leaving one day like Colton had.
“Earth to Katie. Come on down.” Cindy said snapping her fingers in my face.
“Sorry, I guess I got caught up in your little fish story.”
“I meant to ask you earlier, how’s Darla? I saw her at Walmart last night but didn’t get a chance to say hello.”
“She’s holding her own. I think.”
“It’s just horrible what she must be going through. The rumors just keep getting worse and worse.” Cindy said, pulling out a chair to prop her feet.
“What’s the latest you’ve heard?” I wanted to know what others were saying. My question surprised me since I normally avoid scuttlebutt conversations.
“That Raymond and Walter and you know, all the fathers of the Flaming Five, have been involved in some type of sex trafficking. This is, in addition to the possible murders of Harold Maples and that kid back forty something years ago.”
“It still blows my mind that Darla got involved with Raymond Radford. What is it that women see in older men?” I asked.
“Duh, it’s the back side of their pants and not the front side.” Again, Cindy surprised me. Until today, I had gathered at work that she was a little miss perfect, with thoughts and actions that Pastor Warren would use in a sermon illustration.
“I take it you are referring to Raymond’s wallet?”
“Absolutely. In that regard, he was a catch. He’s probably the richest man in Boaz, or at least one of the richest.”
“Let’s change the subject. I try not to think of Darla’s infatuation with the handsome Raymond.”
“This may be a little too personal, but can I ask why your grandmother adopted you. Seems to me you would have been better off to live with your father and your mother?” Cindy said, clearly confused, completely ignorant of the facts.
“Raymond is not my father. In fact, I don’t know who my father is.”
“Okay. I just figured that Raymond got your mom pregnant and they decided to get married. This is what my mother told me. Of course, that was back nearly a half-century ago.”
“Don’t remind me of how old I’m getting.” For years now, I had put aside the question about my father. It had come as a shock when I was twelve, maybe thirteen, when Darla had told me the truth. I had never told anyone the details. I had, like today, always simply left it at, ‘I don’t know who my father is.’ That seemed to divert attention back on my mother, rightly so I guess, that she must have slept around and never sought a paternity test. The truth is, she did sleep around. For sure, she slept with five guys, probably more than once each, during her high school graduation party.
“Let’s leave it at that for now. Okay?” Something told me that at some point I might become comfortable, and confident enough, to share the full story with Cindy. But today was not the day.
“I guess you know those two.” Cindy said leaning her head toward the counter at Starbucks.”
“Who are you talking about?” I asked, playing completely dumb, looking towards the American Cheesefactory instead.
“Pastor Warren and Fulton Billingsley.”
“Oh, them. I know of them but have never met either one of them.”
“Come to First Baptist Church of Christ tomorrow and you can hear the best preacher for miles around. Then Monday, you can go to First State Bank of Boaz and meet the smooth and sophisticated Fulton Billingsley, the best-dressed man in town.” Cindy said, no doubt the fountain of local information.
“To your total dismay, Cullie and I are planning on being at church tomorrow. She has asked me. Apparently, your faithful little daughter has already invited my little heathen to attend a youth group. As to Fulton, I have already been to his bank. Twice actually. Opened two accounts. One for me and one for Cullie.”
“Boaz is fortunate to have those two and their three best friends. They keep the community’s wheels turning.” Cindy said standing up and motioning the girls our way. They had stopped, arms full, and were talking with a group of guys standing in line at Chick-fil-A.
“What three best friends?” I already knew who Cindy was referring to but wanted to act a little naive.
“Ryan Radford, Justin Adams, and Danny Ericson. It seems these five, all sons of the Flaming Five, your mothers’ classmates, are doing a good job following their fathers. Except for the criminal activity I guess.” Cindy said bursting out laughing. I had noticed she is her number one fan when trying to be funny.
“You might be surprised. Everyone has secrets. No one is what they appear to be.”
“Let’s go get the girls. They will talk until midnight with those cute guys. Oh, you’re right. Literature has taught me that. Please know I’m always open to hearing your secrets.” Cindy said picking up the shopping bags and walking away.
Overall, it was a good day. I enjoyed anon-teaching day with Cindy. After we dropped the two of them off at their house, all Cullie wanted to talk about was how cool Alysa is. “She’s boy crazy but in a healthy sort of way.”
I decided not to respond to that observation by my fourteen-year-old daughter. I would lose either way. I did not want to hear how serious she was about boys in general, and I certainly did not want to know the unhealthy type of crazy that some girls her age were experiencing.
The Pencil-Driven Life 