The crowd of students stood silently, just watching. Their faces were filled with pain, most looking shocked, some crying and being supported by a friend. Worry showed on all their faces, and their silence, so unusual with groups of teens, underscored their mood. What voices were heard were only murmurs.
The students had been moved back away from the two injured boys, but no one had made them disperse or return to classes. They stood and watched what was happening.
Two different EMT units had arrived, and their trucks still stood in front of the school with their lights flashing and the rear doors hanging open. Two fire trucks were with them, not needed but adding to the upset of the scene. A police car was also in the driveway, parked skewed across it with its roof lights flashing, blocking it so the EMT units would be able to leave without interference when ready.
One group of EMTs was tending to Jeremy. They carefully moved him onto a backboard, strapped his head in place after fitting him with a neck brace. Together and in unison, working as a trained team, they slowly lifted the board onto the collapsible gurney they had brought in with them. Jeremy was conscious but foggy, not really knowing what was happening, or had happened. The strap kept him from moving his head, but he didn’t mind. It felt like its top was going to come off with every beat of his heart, and he sort of was hoping it would to relieve the pressure he felt.
Once they had him up on the gurney, a pair of EMTs started wheeling him to the door, one at the head and one trailing, both steering the wheeled stretcher. They were gentle in rolling him over the bump created by the sill, and then took him down the wheelchair access ramp, avoiding the stairs, and to their truck. It took only a few moments to load him and secure him in place, and then the truck took off for the hospital.
The EMTs still inside were taking longer with Jake, yet their body language spoke of more urgency. He still hadn’t moved at all when they’d arrived. They quickly felt for a pulse, and found one, weak and thready. The position he was lying in had his head at an awkward angle with his mouth slightly open. The men were extremely cautious handling him, fitting him with a neck brace, and even with it in place one man was constantly holding his head and keeping it aligned with his neck and body. Together, they got him on his back very slowly and with minimal twisting, and then onto a board. Jake was entirely unresponsive throughout, his muscles slack, his breathing shallow, his color ashen.
An oxygen mask was fitted over his face, and the EMTs then took and called in his vitals to their hospital contact before they proceeded. Eventually, they put in an IV drip, then carefully lifted him still on the backboard up to their gurney and gently set him down on it.
He was then pushed out the door and loaded into the waiting truck as Jeremy had been. This one didn’t leave the school like Jeremy’s had. This one left with its siren going, and when it was on the street, it sped up and was still accelerating when it drove out of sight.
The students who’d been watching both boys being attended to finally came alive again, but were very subdued, and many of the girls were crying. The boys weren’t, but some looked like they wanted to. Everyone broke up into separate groups but stayed in the hallway, talking together quietly.
An announcement over the public address system finally broke them up and got most of them returning to their proper classes. However, it was also requested that everyone in the school that had had any contact at all with Jake, Jeremy or Paul that day assemble in the auditorium instead of returning to their classes. The announcement explained that ‘any contact’ included even just seeing them at any point during the day, such as in the parking lot outside school, standing at their lockers, walking in the halls, and the like. Similarly, everyone who’d been in a class with any of the boys was wanted. It was further announced that the purpose of this was to try as much as possible to resurrect exactly how each boy had spent the time at school before the fight, and information about any and everyone the boys had had any interactions with was needed. Anyone who’d had any contact at all with any of these boys involved needed to be interviewed.
~ [] ~
The police car slowly pulled to a stop in front of the suburban house. It sat there a few minutes, the doors remaining closed, no activity apparent from outside the car. The car simply sat there, as did the large boy sitting at the curb a few feet away. He sat still, too, his head bowed and being held up by his hands. His hands were against his cheeks and covering his face and eyes, his elbows resting on his legs as he sat on the curb, his feet in the street. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t given any sign of awareness as the police car came to a stop close to him.
Eventually, a policeman stepped out of the car and approached the boy, stopping a few steps away.
“Are you Paul Timmons?”
The boy didn’t respond at all, so the policeman repeated the question, a little louder, a little more authoritatively, the edge in his voice demanding a response.
That seemed to make a difference, as the boy looked up then. “Yes, I am,” he said very softly.
“Then you’re going to have to come with me. You’re under arrest, suspicion of assault. You have the right to remain silent. . . .”
As the policeman dispassionately told Paul his rights, Paul dropped his head back into his hands.
“All right son, I’m going to have to handcuff you now. Please put your hands behind your back.”
Paul started to rise, and the policeman took a quick half-step back and said, “No. Sit where you are. Do not stand up. Put your hands behind your back.” Paul hesitated, then sat back down where he’d been, and moved his arms as the officer had requested. The officer pulled his cuffs off his belt, then knelt behind the boy and cuffed him.
“Okay, you need to stand up now.” He grasped Paul’s upper arm firmly and as Paul struggled to rise, pulled him to his feet. They walked to the car, the policeman never letting go of his arm. When Paul was seated in the back seat, the officer firmly shut the door, got in the front, spoke into his radio briefly, and then pulled away from the curb.
~ [] ~
At the beginning of their next to last class of the day, all students were told to report to the cafeteria immediately. Rumors had been flying since the fight. Now, speculation of all sorts was filtering through the student body as the kids made their way to the cafeteria. When they reached it, they came face to face with Mr. Tussaint standing in the doorway, his face bearing a serious and very adult look. As they were accustomed to seeing him smile, having him engage in friendly chatter with them, his manner was immediately sobering. Their chatter and joking stopped, and as they entered the cafeteria, walking past Mr. Tussaint, they were told by teachers inside the door to take seats and to keep still. Other teachers were scattered around the room to help maintain order. It really wasn’t necessary, as knowing about the fight, then seeing Mr. Tussaint outside, subdued the students. Within five minutes, the room was full of mostly silent teens.
Then Mr. Tussaint walked in and faced them.