Chapter Twelve
The next morning it was all over the school.
“Did you hear what happened?” was the first thing out of everyone’s mouth. I played dumb. Something that became increasingly easier to do.
“I heard he was arrested.”
“I heard he’s wanted across the country.”
“I heard he’s on a ‘Ten most wanted list!’”
I loitered outside the teachers’ lounge to try and find out what had happened before I confronted Chill.
I heard Mr. Sfinkter’s boisterous laugh. When I peeked in, I could see the teachers surrounding him, listening intently as he told a story about the whole ugly incident. They were obviously supportive, nodding sympathetically. Some offered comments, “...a terrible thing to happen...horrible...and to such a nice man...you should sue the station.”
I thought I better find Chill. I went directly to the mural. Chill was already hard at work as if nothing had happened.
“I know it was you,” I told him quietly.
“Could you hand me the blue?” he asked.
“It’s not cool, Chill,” I told him.
“You think the green would be better?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
He walked over and picked up the blue himself.
“I was going to call the station. I was going to call the police,” I said.
“I heard Mr. Sfinkter was picked up and released,” said Chill. “The station has no idea how it could’ve happened.”
“They’ll find out.”
“If they do, they do,” Chill said, shrugging.
“Why’d you do it on the day I handed in my book?”
Chill looked at me, confused. He shook his head and kept working.
“You know some people are still going to look at him like he’s a flasher, whether he did it or not.”
“He may not expose himself,” said Chill angrily, “but he exposes every kid that comes through his class. Holding them up to ridicule and insult, highlighting every fear, exploiting every weakness and downplaying any good.”
“That’s not what he does for me.”
Chill shook his head again. He looked at me with something like pity in his eyes.
“He’s just preparing us for a world that you don’t want to deal with. A world where everyone doesn’t dote on you, encouraging your strong points,” I said, looking at the mural, “while overlooking your weaknesses.” I looked at his leg.
“Do you honestly think we can ever dream of accomplishing half of what these people did?” I said, pointing to the painted icons. “That’s the reality that he’s preparing us for. Maybe you should be thanking him instead of setting him up.”
“And what reality is he preparing you for, Sean?” he asked.
Before I could respond, Ms. Surette called us from the other side of the curtain.
“Chill, Sean.”
I went charging through the tarp. “Ms. Surette, can I return to class?”
“Is everything all right?”
I looked over at Chill, ready to spill it all.
“Everything’s fine,” I said instead. “It’s just the finishing touches, and I’m in the way more than I’m helping.”
“Is that okay with you?” she asked Chill.
“That’s fine,” he said.
“Okay then.”
“Thank you,” I said and left.
I’d just made the corner when I heard Ms. Surette say, “That was a strange thing that happened to Mr. Sfinkter, wasn’t it?” I stopped.
“Yes,” Chill said.
“I saw the drawing on the news last night. It was an incredible likeness.”
Chill said nothing.
“I heard that the two of you don’t get along,” she said. She waited for Chill’s reply. It didn’t come.
“Anything you want to talk about?” Ms. Surette asked.
“No,” said Chill.
“If there’s a problem, I’d like to know about it,” she said. It was obvious she wanted an explanation.
“He belittles everybody,” said Chill finally.
“I haven’t seen that.”
“He’s not that way with the teachers. It’s when it’s just him and the students that he shows himself,” Chill told her.
“Maybe you should give him more of a chance. All I’ve seen is a very nice, charming man. Maybe you’re misreading him or being a little oversensitive.”
The silence hung heavier than the tarp. I leaned in to make sure I wasn’t missing anything.
“Yes, Ms. Surette,” Chill said mechanically.
I took some pleasure in hearing Ms. Surette reaffirm what I’d been trying to tell Chill. And myself.
“Good,” she replied. “Now, can I see the mural?” she asked.
“I would rather no one saw it until the unveiling, if that’s okay.”
“Many great artists preferred to work in secrecy,” she said. “That would be fine.”
“Thank you,” Chill said.
“But no more problems with Mr. Sfinkter, all right?”
“Of course,” Chill said.