Closer to God

Deus Ex Caedum...

Mattie Askeland parked her car and headed towards North Haskell High School. The old edifice was massive. It sprawled across the nicely landscaped campus, and its geometric perfection seemed to leer through the metallic glint of twin ornamental grilles on either side of the imposing main entrance. Mattie's eyes settled on a panorama just above the doors. It was a scene of an ancient Greek classroom in high relief. A bearded sage, frozen in time, imparted unknown words of wisdom while a small group of tunic clad students looked sightlessly on, and presumably, listened. There was a strange underlying coldness to the orbless eyes and stony faces staring back at each other. But Mattie wasn't bothered by it. It was, for her, a once familiar sight she was happy to see again.

North Haskell is one of four high schools in Thatcher Blake. Built in 1933, it opened the following year with much fanfare. It was not so long ago when Mattie fondly remembered the time she'd spent in those hallowed halls as a student. She pushed through the front door and stepped inside. She wasn't sure if the flutter she felt in her stomach was from excitement or apprehension. On Monday, her old high school would begin its 40th year.

The Blake College senior passed a large trophy case in the lobby entrance and the library on the left. On this lazy late August afternoon, the main office had a bare bones staff of three. One of the ladies took the girl's name and asked her to have a seat. "Mr. Oleson just stepped outside, probably having a cigarette." The woman said. "He'll be back in a few minutes or so; won't be long!" True to her word, a graying, middle aged man appeared wearing short sleeves and a nicely matching tie that was a little hard on the eyes. A short, but jovial conversation passed between them, and with apologies, he said he needed to get going. "Wife's having a few family over for a barbecue, you understand." He said. "But welcome back to ol' North Haskell. Hope you have a pleasant stay!"

Last week, Mattie received her student teaching placement. She met her professor and adviser, Dr. Phyllis Dahlgren, in her office. She could barely conceal her glee when she heard the news. "I know you will be very disappointed, Mattie, to learn that your placement, this semester, is at North Haskell." Dr. Dahlgren said. She stared over the top of her glasses at the girl. Mattie knew the professor was being facetious. North Haskell was her first choice and she knew it. "The principal, Mr. Oleson, asked that you come by Monday afternoon, about 2PM, to introduce yourself. It's an institute day so there shouldn't be any interruptions." She handed Mattie the top page from the file. "And don't forget to bring this letter of introduction along with you and have it signed." She handed the girl another paper from the file.

Mattie reached the nearest stairwell and went up to the second floor. The long, seemingly endless familiar hall, was empty. She passed a few classrooms and saw one with its door propped open. A brief gust of air blew into the hall, but Mattie walked on. She stopped for a second when the lockers abruptly ended. Here, trophy cases with glass fronts competed with the clutter of pennants, plaques, and team photos of past years covering the walls on both sides of the hall. Having reached her destination, she went through the nearest set of double doors. Like the classroom she'd passed, these too, were propped open.

The main gymnasium was eerily quiet and empty except for the lone basketball in a corner near the boys' locker room door. The space instantly conjured up memories of gym class, after school games, and thunderous pep assemblies. A faint grin spread across Mattie's lips. She wondered where everybody was. Of course, Mattie didn't have to wait long. "Hey, vacation ain't over just yet!" Coach Joe Falconer was behind her now. The tall black man raised an eyebrow and suddenly grinned. "Ain't no students allowed in the gym 'till Monday!"

"Oh, I'm not a student." Mattie said. "I mean, I used to be a few years ago--"

"Relax, I got you." Coach Falconer said. "You must be our new student teacher, huh? Heard you used to be a student here. Welcome back!"

"Thanks. My name's Mattie--"

"Miss Mattie Askeland. Used to be one of Karen McBride's girls. She told us all about you when Dr. Dahlgren called."

"Jeez, I don't think I was that bad!" Mattie said.

"I wouldn't worry." Coach Falconer laughed.

"Thanks...I guess. I'm looking for Miss Treadway. Have you seen her?"

Coach Falconer's eyebrows furrowed as he thought about it. "CJ? She's just across the hall, room 205. Door should be open by the concession window. Can't miss it."

Mattie thanked him and left the gym. She saw the classroom across the hall, where the lockers ended, and something in one of the trophy cases caught her eye. There, between two cluttered cases, glinted the sheen of something like precious metal. A banner, lovingly decorated, declared:The Secret of Our Winning Success. It rested all alone; a point of pride. Mattie remembered passing by the case as a student. Even then she wondered what was supposed to be so special about it.

It was just a rock; part of a bolide that fell to earth aeons ago. It was discovered in 1932 when workmen were busy laying the foundation that would soon become part of the main gymnasium and pool. According to the local paper, the workmen thought they had struck a large deposit of shale, stopping their progress. When dynamite failed to make a dent, excavators called in geologists from Illinois State University. It was then that the deposit was identified as a giant meteor--later bolide--by a Dr. Henry Armitage, visiting professor from Miskatonic University near Newport, Massachusetts.

Under the direction of architect Levin Hagen, the workmen began immediate extraction through a combination of drilling and blasting. Though part of the bolide remains under North Haskell's foundation, they succeeded in excavating a significant portion of the sizeable meteor. When examined, it revealed a significant amount of fused iron and an alloy both beautiful and baffling. Mr. Hagen, they say, extracted as much of this alloy as possible, creating many of the ornamental features seen around the main gymnasium. But inside, he found another beautiful and enigmatic treasure.

Here was a smallish circular tablet of an unknown stone. A small cluster of stars appears beside a strange looking glyph that, on initial discovery, shone with a piercing metallic glint. There was a pothook resembling a question mark with two similar sweeps though the thing looked nothing like the Chinese or Arabic glyphs found in known ancient texts. The little tablet was carefully extracted from the meteor by Mr. Hagen and given to the school as a gift of good luck and prosperity. It was well received.

Continued attempts at extracting as much of the alien alloy as possible went on until a second tablet was found within the remains of the boulder sized fragment still buried in the ground. But when further blasting failed to yield anything else, Mr. Hagen ordered the workmen to cover it up and continue on with the foundation. A later news article from 1934 noted that the landing of such a meteor, likely thousands of years ago, would have been a sensational sight. The force of impact buried the thing roughly 15 feet into the ground, though the event happened so long ago, no outward evidence remained of the crater it formed at the time.

"Missed this place so much, you couldn't stay away huh, Mattie?" The voice belonging to Mrs. McBride greeted her former student, startling her back to the present. "Saw you standing here, looking at the trophy case; figured I'd say hi."

"Oh, hi, Mrs. McBride!" Mattie said. "Guess you heard I'll be student teaching here this semester."

"Yes, I heard. But call me Karen, you're no longer a student." The middle-aged woman said. "Don't forget, when school starts Monday you'll be one of us." She exhaled, sounding a little wistful. "I'm sorry you weren't placed with me, Mattie." She said apologetically. "I tried to discuss it with Mr. Olsen and Dr. Dahlgren, but you know how these things can be."

"It's okay, really." Mattie reassured her. "I'll be fine."

"Oh, I know you will." Mrs. McBride said. "You were one of my best students. Still coaching softball for the park district?"

The girl's mouth tensed a little and she swallowed. "No, not this year." Her hand went to her right temple, tentatively brushing her dark hair aside.

"Oh, well..." Mrs. McBride paused for a moment. She turned and stared at the trophy case for an awkward moment or two. "Strange little thing, isn't it." She observed. "Not sure why they keep it around."

"It's different." Mattie said. "Guess I never really paid any attention to it when I was a student."

"I never liked it. I still don't." Mrs. McBride admitted. "It's an artifact, not a good luck charm. They should've donated it to one of the local universities a long time ago. But CJ and Birgitta insist on keeping it in the case there."

"Why?" Mattie wondered.

"God knows." Mrs. McBride muttered. "Well...my day here is over, so I might as well head back home." She patted the girl's shoulder affectionately and nodded at an open classroom door. "CJ is waiting on you. Best get the formalities over and the rest will be smooth as silk. I'll see you Monday."

They parted ways and Mattie walked through the door of 205, noting the scuff marks on the bottom of the wood surface like battle scars. The marks revealed the accumulation of untold numbers of students over the years, kicking and scraping their shoes against the door, expressing every emotion from excitement to boredom and anger, while their eyes fixated on the wall clock. Waiting. The classroom was nothing special. Four rows of desks faced a large blackboard at the front of the room.

The stillness and heat of another hot August afternoon filled the hall but did not reach this room. Here, for some inexplicable reason, it felt cold; noticeably so. Mattie crossed her arms and shuddered against the sensation. In the corner near an open window she saw two slim, middle-aged women sitting on opposite sides of the teacher's desk. The familiar sight seemed to warm the chilly air a little.

A distinctly butch looking woman with very short light blond hair was busy writing something in a lesson planner. Miss Larsson seemed oblivious as Mattie observed the rugged, yet somewhat handsome, features of the gym teacher's face. It was a face aged from years of spending time outdoors in sun and rain and snow, barking orders at her students to run faster or jump higher while she added another mark in her gradebook.

Facing her was Miss Treadway. By all accounts, she exemplified the fabled athletic butch; a tomboy in every sense of the word. Mattie guessed the woman to be in her mid to late 40s, like her colleague. She was known by most to be a stoic, no-nonsense type of woman. Memories in Mattie's mind conjured up a time when she'd heard one of the English teachers, Mrs. Lightoller, describing Miss Treadway as a very unpleasant, even predatory, sort of woman to the parents of one of her students. Mattie couldn't help but overhear that last part, and wondered why Mrs. Lightoller would say such a thing--or even care--but she kept her mouth shut.

Both women seemed oblivious to the girl standing nearby. Miss Treadway reached for her coffee, steaming visibly in a stoneware cup. Without looking up, she muttered something to her companion and drank. Steam fogged the woman's glasses. She took them off and held them out for a second before reaching into her shorts pocket. She fished out a wad of tissue which she used to gently rub the lenses. "Um...Miss Treadway?" Mattie meekly made her presence known.

"Yes?" Miss Treadway's stern and steely gaze never failed to intimidate. Her dark eyes locked onto Mattie's, virtually pinning the girl in place. She strongly resembled the famous tennis player Billie Jean King, though Miss Treadway was much older and her hair a bit shorter. Miss Larsson, finished with whatever it was she was writing, closed the lesson planner and turned to look at Mattie. Her eyes, a hoary shade of light blue, gazed up at the girl. "I'm, ah...the new student teacher." Mattie said. "Mr. Falconer said I could find you here. I'm Mattie, by the way."

Miss Larsson stood up then and glanced, Mattie presumed, at the wall clock over the blackboard. "It's nice to meet you," she said. "But cheer practice will be starting soon, and I need to head back to the gym. I don't want to detract from whatever you and CJ need to discuss." She said goodbye to her colleague who watched the door intently, as if she wanted to be sure it was closed all the way and the two of them were alone.

"Mattie Askelund, correct?" Miss Treadway adjusted her glasses while sifting through the clutter on the desk in front of her. She found the file folder she wanted and opened it, glancing back at Mattie who stood there as if wondering what to do.

"Askeland." Mattie corrected.

"Have a seat." The gym teacher's voice, deep and terse, pierced the air like a lancet. Mattie, feeling a little cowed by this seemingly cold reception, obliged.

"I understand you were hoping to work with Karen McBride this semester. You were a student of hers, weren't you?" The plain manila folder contained some papers that looked familiar. Miss Treadway selected a page from the top. "Yes." Mattie said.

"And Miss Larsson, one semester during my junior year."

"I've taken it upon myself to meet with Dr. Dahlgren last week." Miss Treadway said, ignoring Mattie's reply. "And based on what she'd told me, I requested you be placed with me instead." She handed the page to Mattie. "The letter of introduction, signed and dated. I think Dr. Dahlgren requested you bring that back to her as soon as possible."

"Thanks." Mattie said. She looked at it before tucking it into her folder. The woman's penmanship was neat and precise; almost font. It looked downright anal retentive and she began to wonder if all the rumors she'd heard about Miss Treadway were true.

"Still coaching with Eddie Neal for the park district, or were you on your own this summer?"

"No, I...decided not to coach this summer." Mattie said.

"That's too bad." Miss Treadway mused. "For Eddie. She's told me that you have some real potential."

Potential. Mattie strained a sort of half smile and sighed. Whatever potential she'd had was gone as far as she was concerned. Gone last summer with the blow she'd taken to her head during practice over at Jubilee Park. Joan Galen, a strapping junior from F.W. Harmony, was up at bat. Mattie pitched the ball. Joan took a mighty swing, making contact, and sent the thing screaming across the mound at Mattie's face. Lucky for her, she saw this, and turned. But she wasn't fast enough, and the ball pummeled Mattie, smacking against her temple and knocking her almost backwards.

The world went black, but minutes later, Mattie's eyelids fluttered open. With the help of another girl, Miss Neal dragged Mattie over to the park shelter, which thankfully, wasn't too far from the diamond. Mattie struggled to sit up. They'd brought her to a picnic table under the brick shelter and laid her on top, using Miss Neal's bunched up windbreaker to cushion her head. She remembered the concerned looks on the girls' faces and Miss Neal who'd rushed off to get her a cold Pepsi. She asked Mattie if she was okay and Mattie, of course, said "Yes." The practice ended early that late afternoon.

Mattie thought she was okay, but she wasn't. A dull, relentless pain thrummed in her skull. Sometimes she saw strange colors. Other times she thought she could hear an eerie, ambient low droning sound. The doctor on staff at Blake College dismissed it as Tinnitus brought on by the moderate concussion she'd had. A week later, when the pain refused to let up, she went to the hospital. The bruise she had from the blow had faded by then, and she showed no outward signs of injury.

Simple neurological tests revealed nothing unusual, but Mattie complained about the pain and occasional droning which admittedly made her feel anxious. She was given some Valium and told to take it easy for a few more days.

For the rest of the summer, Mattie sat on the sidelines while Miss Neal did most of the work. This summer, she'd taken a part-time job at the Comet and rented one of the four cramped little one bedroom apartments on the top floor. The ancient downtown bowling alley was part of an even older neighborhood tavern in the basement level of a sprawling business block with art deco façade. The place was popular with both high school and college students--especially on weekends. Mattie worked as an attendant and occasional pinsetter. Her friend, Jodie, worked in the pro-shop. When things were slow (usually on weekdays), they'd bowl a few games and fill up on pizza and beer if no one was looking.

The sound of paper rustling and Miss Treadway's voice snapped Mattie back to the present. "Each week you'll submit your lesson plans to me." She said. "I'm department head for the girls. Lesson plans are due each Thursday, but you won't be starting on that until you've been here for a few weeks."

"Oh, okay." Mattie said.

"You're expected to write up a block plan. Dr. Dahlgren will explain more about that during your weekly class meeting at Blake." She pushed another paper at Mattie, tapping it with her fingernail. "Here is the schedule for my classes this year. First and second hours will be the freshman and sophomore girls. Fourth, sixth and seventh hours are junior and senior classes."

Mattie said nothing. She stared down at the schedule and her mind started to wander. By the looks of things, nothing much has changed since Mattie had been a student here. There was a unit on field hockey, badminton, and indoor calisthenics. The first hour freshmen girls would start the year off in the pool. "Swimming and water safety are required for freshmen." Miss Treadway explained. "The junior and senior classes will be outside for field hockey..."

The woman's voice seemed to fade into the background while Mattie sort of zoned out. She didn't mean to. Her head was starting to hurt again. She wasn't listening anymore. Her eyes strayed from the paper, slowly looking over at the bespectacled middle aged woman sitting across from her. She thought about her senior year at North Haskell. It was often during the five minute passing periods between classes when Mattie saw Miss Treadway.

The halls on all three floors resembled a rushing stream filled with students pushing and fighting their way against the current to their next destination. And often she'd catch sight of Miss Treadway standing near the locker room doors, or outside the main gym on the second floor. Sometimes Miss Larsson stood next to her, watching in grim silence. Watching. She remembered that it made some of her classmates uneasy.

Mattie figured it was because of the rumors she'd heard about Miss Treadway and Miss Larsson. She'd heard they were lesbians, though she never thought much about whether there was anything to the rumors. Miss Larsson seemed nice enough. She often saw the slim blond gym teacher around the building back when she was a student. She coached the varsity cheerleaders and Mattie remembered when she was awarded the District Service Award that year for her work with the annual wellness fair. But she'd heard a lot of people say Miss Treadway is just nuts. Danny Clevenger, who Mattie dated for about two months, said she's outright insane.

It was around the beginning of April that year. They'd gone to watchSlaughterhouse Five at the Charm Cinema downtown one Friday night. Afterward, they went to grab something to eat at the Hoppity Sam, this greasy little burger joint where they were sure to see some of their friends. They were right. Mattie's friend, Jodie Pruitt was working behind the counter that night. Dressed in the cartoonish looking bellhop uniform, she greeted them both with a cheesy "What's Hoppening?" Danny's two friends, Mark Wilson and Eric Sundberg stood by the counter talking about Eric's beater Ford pickup while they waited for their food.