Thread of Truth, стр. 21

EIGHTEEN

Seaside Alternative School was not actually seaside.

I left the park and drove back over to Del Mar, then up to Solana Beach where Seaside was located. It didn't look that much different from a traditional high school, save for the fact that it was smaller and had the word “alternative” on the sign at the entrance.

The lot was nearly empty, as it appeared school had just gotten out. Tom Locker told me to check in at the counselor's office and he'd arrange for me to get any information I needed. True to his word, a very pleasant woman came to the front desk with a copy of Desmond’s schedule and a map of the school. She scanned my driver's license and gave me a visitor sticker to put on my chest. She couldn't guarantee that teachers would still be in their rooms, but I was welcome to come back to the main office and leave a message if I wanted to. She didn't ask why I was there. I wondered if that was commonplace at an alternative school.

I struck out on my first three tries, but found a guy about my age at the fourth room I tried. He was closer to seven feet than six, had a full head of gray hair, and was staring at his whiteboard like it held the answer to all of life's questions.

I rapped on the open door. “Hello?”

He turned to me, startled. “Oh, hello. Sorry. Lost in thought for a moment. Can I help you?”

“I hope so,” I said. “My name's Joe Tyler. I'm an investigator working for Desmond Locker's family?”

He winced when I said Desmond's name, then nodded. “Yes, yes, come in. Mr. Locker emailed me and said you might be stopping in.” He strode over to me, his long legs covering the room in just a couple of steps. He offered his hand. “Phil Gentry.”

We shook hands and he gestured toward one of the desks near the front of the room. I sat down and he maneuvered another desk around so we could face one another. Rather than trying to fit his body into it, though, he sat down on the back of it.

“I was sorry to hear about what happened to Desmond,” he said. “I liked him very much.”

“I've heard he was getting his act together,” I said.

Gentry nodded and loosened the red tie that was knotted at the neck of his pale pink dress shirt. “He was. I thought he'd grown up quite a bit.”

I pointed at the whiteboard and the phalanx of equations. “I take it you teach math?”

“I do,” he said, nodding. “I was a financial advisor for years, but got bored with it. Went and got my teaching license, but was bored again teaching at a regular public high school. A friend suggested I look at alternative schooling.” He shrugged. “I've been here ten years now. I'm not bored.”

I thought of my own teaching experience and how miserable I'd been. I wondered if you just had to be wired a particular way to be a teacher.

“Did you know Desmond pretty well?” I asked.

He thought for a moment, then nodded. “I think I did. As I said, I liked him. I like most of my students, but some are harder to get to know than others. Des wasn't.”

“Was he doing alright in your class?”

“He was,” he said. “I had him about a year ago, when he first transferred in. It was a bit rocky then, but it usually is.”

“What do you mean?”

He shifted his weight on the desk. “It's rocky for pretty much every kid that comes here. Most have been struggling wherever they were before and there's no pride in coming here. This isn't a step up. So, not only are they dealing with whatever they're dealing with, but there's an ego aspect to it as well, no matter what they'd have you believe. Most come in here a little afraid and very unsure of themselves. Des was no different.” He paused. “He didn't have much confidence, and I think he was nervous about being here. He knew he wasn't a hardcore kid like some of the other students. He knew he didn't really belong here, but the reality was that he was here. Tough spot for a teenager.”

“I would imagine so.”

He fidgeted with the tie again. “But he did his work and he showed up for a class. If a kid does those two things right off the bat here, that's a pretty good sign that they'll be okay. He was a little behind in math, but he caught on fairly quick. He stuck around for a couple of afternoons for tutoring, so I got to talk to him one-on-one. Like I said, I liked him. He had a good sense of humor and he wasn't feeling sorry for himself. Once he settled in here and got the lay of the land, I think he was relieved.”

“Relieved how?” I asked.

“Relieved that he didn't have to put on a show anymore,” Gentry answered. “Whoever he'd been running with before he landed here, I think there was pressure to keep up that front even when he didn't want to. Here, he had a built-in excuse to get the ship righted. He was pretty scared of going to jail. I think it was easy to say to the old friends that he had to do this so that he didn't get in trouble again.”

I thought back to what Tom Locker told