Standing on Principal

[Frank]

I always show up to work early but onFebruary 8, 2006 I was earlier than usual, cup of coffee in hand. The first thing I did was call my mom to wish her a happy birthday. I wanted to do it from my office phone because she loved seeing Hampton Bays School District on her caller ID. She was so proud that her son was a school principal—with even bigger aspirations. I opened with the same line I’ve used since moving out: “Mama, its Frank Vetro.” It always cracks her up. The simple things make her laugh, make her happy. She never wants a gift. I stopped buying her gifts years ago because they always go to waste. Quality time with her family is all she ever wants, and dinner with her sons always makes her birthday. It was a quick phone call, because I had an extra busy day. I had to cram everything in so I could leave work earlier than usual. My former colleague from Newfield High School, Ms. Quick, was advising me for a presentation called “Rachel’s Challenge.” Rachel was a student who was killed in a tragic incident at Columbine High School where the “Trench Coat Mafia” killed a dozen students and a teacher and wounded twenty-four others on campus. One of its many messages was to watch what you say. The slightest remark can impact how an individual is perceived, be emotionally scarring, and lead that individual to harm others or themselves. Amen.

There was a peculiar car parked outside my building just across the street. It was plain-looking and neutral-colored, and sort of hovered around all day. I didn’t recognize it, and neither did anyone else. That’s not the norm in the small hamlet of Hampton Bays, where everyone knows everything about everybody, including what they drive. The locals have referred to Hampton Bays as “the working man’s Hamptons” because of its blue-collar stigma. Many community members have forged a living on the water or via another trade or family run business native to the area. It does have the world famous Dune Road and some million-dollar homes. It is a part of the renowned Town of Southampton. However, the Hamptons most people think of begins about eight minutes farther east, in the actual towns of Southampton and East Hampton, to name a couple. That’s where you’ll find the Hollywood stars and powerbrokers of the world. My security guard, Tom, kept his eye on the car, but nothing required any action.

I ended my workday at 4:15 p.m., said good-bye to a group of students enrolled in the evening school program, and left for Sportime, a local fitness club in Quogue. I wanted to sneak in a quick workout before having dinner with my mom. I already changed into my gym clothes: black mesh shorts, T-shirt, and blue thermal. It was a freezing, bitter-cold day. The school property was a ghost town, which is typical during the dead of winter. Very few activities take place and nobody wants to loiter in that brutal weather. Just before entering my car I took a final scan of the property. I don’t know what instinctively made me do that, but something was strange. It was unusually quiet, even for that time of year. There was an eerie sense of calm before a storm.

After my last-minute scan I got in my car and drove through town. I noticed the mystery car was driving behind me, and there were at least three strange men in the car. I stopped at a red light at the corner of Montauk Highway and Springville Road, just at the entrance of the Dunkin Donuts and movie theater shopping center. That intersection was always congested at that time of day, but it seemed as though the entire town was there at that exact moment. Community members were honking and waving. I was the middle school and high school principal of the small hamlet and a very recognizable face.

Suddenly the suspicious car flashed its lights. An undercover police car? If it was, it wasn’t the Southampton Town Police who generally oversaw the town. It had to be the Suffolk County Police Department. The three men exited the car, wearing plain clothes, and rushed my vehicle as if I were a drug lord or murderer.

“Get out of the car!” I wondered what the hell was going on as I followed the command. As soon as I exited my car he theatrically screamed, “You’re under arrest!” Before I could say a word he violently turned me around, shoved me on the car, and cuffed me.

The handcuffs dug into my wrists. “Wait, I’m the principal of the school.” The officer responded with a smirk. “I know,” he said, as he paraded me in front of the town for what seemed like an eternity. I looked at the throng of community members. They were shocked, to say the least, as they witnessed their principal in a horrendous situation. I asked the officer to at least remove me from their view. “Don’t worry—no one is looking, it will only be a few seconds.” He had no concern for the shocked community, not even the young kids who were watching intears.

[DomGerard]

Wow! Great opening... I'm excited for this story!