The Orphans Series Vol. 1: The Orphans (3 page)

             
Mr. Smith shook his head, sat back down decided it was better to leave things alone and not encourage them.

             
Shaun and Ellie looked at each other and then back at Greg. He might be a little cocky, and he might have a little crush which was probably mutual with Ellie, but he did help keep them out of further trouble.

             
Just as Shaun thought of something clever to say, Mr. Peterson appeared in the door smiling and pointing at the two of them. "Mr. Fox! Ms. Randall! Come with me! I didn't want you leaving after dismissal from detention."

             
Greg couldn't resist, and with overplayed conviction gripped Ellie's hand making her cheeks blush. "Ellie, I'm broken hearted! I had no idea you were married.... When did this happen!?"

             
Mr. Peterson shook his head at Greg. "What a surprise--Mr. Thompson is in detention. You have such conviction Greg you should use it for something useful instead of wasting your youth in here. Mr. Thompson Is it possible that you might want to continue your stay at our little Saturday detention club?"

             
Greg stood up saluting the Principal. "Sir, I wouldn't have it any other way! Every moment with you is something special to me!"

             
Mr. Peterson's eyes went dark. "Well then maybe we should make it two in a row, how does that sound?"

             
Greg gripped his chest smiling even wider. "Now, Mr. Peterson, that would be a dream, but only if you're going to be joining!"

             
The Principal was achieving new levels of aggravation. His face was growing red and it was easy to see the frustration was getting to an unmanageable and possibly unhealthy point. Mr. Peterson left the doorway he was leaning against and started slowly walking towards Greg.

             
He was a trouble maker but not an idiot. Greg took his seat sitting tall and obedient. Mr. Peterson leaned over him and seethed. "Did you want three Thompson? Just say one word...."

             
Greg thought about it looking at Ellie. "What do you think? I mean you're already hitched so what plans could I have the next three weekends? Let's make it four just to be on the safe side. It's a nice even number you know."

             
Mr. Peterson pulled out a pocket notebook and looked at Ellie, sizing the young woman up, and then back at Greg. He smiled while writing down his new detention. "I hope it worked Thompson. She's a trouble maker, so you two should get along famously."

             
Ellie retorted. "I resent that! I am
not
a trouble maker!" but as she turned to walk out of the room she yelled back at Greg. "I'll bring you a donut Saturday!"

             
Mr. Peterson marched back to the door and curled his finger in a follow me motion at the duo. They walked silently as they headed down the hallway to meet their further punishment. 

****

              As Shaun and Ellie waited outside the office, Mr. Peterson slid open the tan filing cabinet filled with student information and figured he'd start with the Fox kid. How hard could a biochemist be to deal with? He felt the chances of a doctor getting to leave the minute he called was probably less than good. As he didn't want to be stuck here all night waiting, he picked out the phone number and punched it into the desktop phone meticulously and with force. "He'll see how funny he thinks he is once his father arrives."

             
An automated woman's voice answered the phone. "Hello, and thank you for calling. You have reached E&T Pharmaceuticals Corporation. Please press one to continue this call in English, or para Español presione dos."

             
He wrinkled his nose at having to choose an option for English but the machine could care less about his personal feelings. He swore at the automated voice and pushed two by accident, then cursed himself for the error. He slammed the phone down, picked it back up, and angrily restarted the process. He punched the right number the second time, and then had to choose from a vast array of options that came on before he finally made it to a receptionist who obviously hated life and everyone who called to bother her.

             
"Good afternoon and thank you for calling E&T Pharmaceutical Corporation. It's a wonderful day to start a healthy new you. This is Debra. How may I direct your call, please?"

             
"Good afternoon. I would like to speak with Dr. Fox, please."

             
"One moment." There was a lot of typing and tapping and she came back on the line. "Can you tell me in a bit more specific detail which Dr. Fox you are trying to contact, please?"

             
"Well, I am trying to reach ... um ... well, do you have more than one Dr. Fox, sir--I mean ma'am?" he stumbled.

             
"Sir, I am not at liberty to disclose confidential information to you. It's against the privacy act."

             
Mr. Peterson was getting irritable. "Well, I will let you know that I am Principal here at Raccoon Valley High!"

             
She didn't let him finish. "Congratulations on being Principal sir. Now as I stated earlier, could you be more specific on the Dr. Fox you'd like to speak to, please?"

             
He started fumbling with the file growing more and more agitated by the second. He found the parents and emergency contacts block--Dr. Francis Fox. Next to it there was a scribbled note, triple underlined, which advised to call him Frank, not Francis. "Yes, I'd like to speak to Dr. Frank Fox."

             
"Transferring ... please hold," Debra droned with the tone of the dead in her voice.

             
The phone rang echoing in a laboratory filled to capacity with enough technology to cure the worst of diseases. There were work benches filled with test tubes, DNA sequencers, computers, chromatographs, microscopes.... Anything that could be thought of, someone had already furnished it. In it was a man buried over his head with data results, test experiments, and dry erase boards filled with formulas and hypotheses--some that worked and some that failed.

             
The phone rang five times before the ringing penetrated the scientist's concentration. Frank Fox pushed himself up off of the lab stool he'd been sitting at for hours and stretched his lean muscular frame. He rubbed at eyes that never got the amount of sleep they wanted and picked up the phone, annoyed and  thinking there wouldn't be so many interruptions if a secretary could be put in his budget. He cursed the young research assistant that was nowhere to be found. "This is biochem lab 562."

             
Frank came from the military, and patience was not a virtue he had been blessed with. He wasn't about unnecessary questions like how are you, how can I help you, is there a problem, why are you calling? In Frank's eyes, if you didn't know why you were calling then you shouldn't have picked up the phone in the first place. He started tapping his fingers on the counter, looking at the clock, waiting impatiently for whoever was calling to speak.

             
Mr. Peterson was contemplating if it would have been less trouble to place Lucas and the other two in detention after all. Sitting down, he cleared his throat and tried. "Hello. Good afternoon. This is Mr. Peterson, the Principal at Raccoon Valley High School."

             
Shaun's dad grew concerned. "Is there a problem at the school?"

             
"Well, there was an issue with Shaun today, sir."

             
"Is Shaun okay?"

             
"Shaun and his friend Ellie had an altercation earlier today with a few other boys. He is in mandatory school detention and per school policy, will only be released when a parent or guardian is able to pick him up, sir."

             
Frank shook his head in disgust trying to stay level headed but unsure how to approach this. "Wait he got into a fight earlier, and he got into a fight with a girl? You have got to be kidding! Shaun knows better than that! He would never hit a girl! Are you sure you are talking about the right student?"

             
"Yes, I am confident the boy in my detention hall is Shaun Fox. You misunderstood me, though. He didn't get into a fight with a girl--your son and another female student got in a fight with three other boys that he claims were harassing the young woman."

             
Frank was pacing back and forth between the rows of equipment. "Wait! Wait just one God damned minute! My son got into a fight with three boys, and was fighting with a girl?"

             
Mr. Peterson started thinking the situation out and possibly seeing the error in his ways he nervously continued. "Well, you see the three boys might had been keeping the young lady from heading to class, but I am sure you will agree that--"

             
Frank was approaching a meltdown he cut the Principal off. "What are you talking about 'agree'!? You have got to be kidding!" As quickly as he could, he locked up his research and backed up all of his projects while stripping off his white lab research coat for a black bomber jacket with worn patches on it. He transferred the call to his cell phone and headed out the door. "My son stuck up for a girl and you pull him from class and I have to come there before you'll release him!? What exactly did you hope to accomplish from this!?"

             
The Principal was squirming in his seat unsure of what he should even try to articulate. "Well actually fighting in any manner at a school, even if the student, as you put it, felt justified for the reason, is still against the school policy."

             
Frank was flaming mad by this point, not worried who saw him on a rant as he walked down the hallways waving his free hand in the air. "Principal Peterson I tell you what--I'm going to be down to the school as soon as I can physically get there. It would be in your best interest to have something more intelligent to say to me by the time I get there, and if I hear anything that varies from what my son tells me, we are going to have the most in depth conversation of your freaking career!"

             
Mr. Peterson sat up straight in his chair pointing a finger at no one. "I'll have you know that I have had a very distinguished teaching career, sir, hence the title of Principal! You and I can talk until we come to an agreement about his punishment, but--"

             
Frank cut him off spitting out. "Punishment!? I'd say he's pardoned for time served! If you are under the delusional impression that he's going to spend one more minute in that school being detained for no intelligent reason, then you're sadly mistaken! This had better not show up on his school record or keep him from wrestling next month! It sure as hell won't affect the writing he does for the school paper! My son's going places and its ignorant people like you that detain him from reaching his full potential in life!" He ended the call and cursed under his breath until he got to the front door, waving goodbye to Pat, the silver-haired security guard. In the parking lot he climbed up into a red full-size pickup truck. He slammed both fists against the steering wheel to regain his composure before he tried to drive.

             
Mr. Peterson looked around his office, getting nervous that the man was on his way and was pissed. With a trembling hand he placed the phone back in its cradle. He thought about it for a moment and decided a trip to the parking lot for a quick smoke in his car was probably for the best and disappeared to his less than discreet smoking spot. Ten minutes later he returned to his desk waving to the secretary, checking the time, and feeling confident enough to call Ms. Randall.

              He looked at Ellie's file and dialed the number. He quivered when the familiar automated voice started, "Hello, and thank you for calling. You have reached E&T Pharmaceuticals Corporation. Please press one to continue this call in English, or para Español presione dos."

             
Mr. Peterson sunk in his seat, pushed one and muttered. "Christ help me."

             
After four rings, the phone was answered. "Good afternoon, and thank you for calling E&T Pharmaceutical Corporation. It's a wonderful day to start a healthy new life. This is Debra. How may I direct your call, please?"

              He decided to just leave it as was and not fill her in that he had already called. "Good afternoon. Can you please transfer me to Ms. Randall's office, please?"

             
Déjà vu‎ was on the verge of striking. "One moment please." There was a lot of typing and tapping and she came back on the line. "Can you tell me in a bit more specific detail which Ms. Randall you are trying to contact, please?"

             
He was ready this time and had a huge grin. "Yes, I'd like to speak with Ms. Karen Randall, please."

             
"Transferring ... please hold." Debra droned with the same amount of disinterest in her voice.