Academy Prep
Previously: Jeannie gets some guidance at the end of the day.
8:25 AM - Tuesday, November 4, 2014
US Park Police Office, Ft Winfield Scott, The Presidio
Paco arrived at the office to discover Raj already situated in the conference room. The kid worked with huge headphones on, fingers furiously tapping. There was so much moving and flashing on his screen Paco wondered how he kept track of it all, let alone how his brain could process it all so quickly. Paco crossed to the window and looked at the parade ground below, seeing how the fog was getting increasingly brighter and whiter in the sky — it was burning off early and the day would be warm again.
“Hey Pac.” Jeannie breezed in quietly, coffee in hand. She wore jeans, a white tee and a trim blazer in navy blue. Paco realized that nothing about her was dressy, but she always looked dressy somehow.
“Hey. It’s gonna be nice again today.”
“I know. I liked it better when it was damp, but November is our best month, usually.” She joined him at the window and sipped her coffee. “Are you coming with me this morning?”
“Yeah, I think so, when should we head over?”
“Probably soon — try to catch the school day early and then come back before we head to Xavier.”
“Hey - are you guys gonna ask someone about Pr3pSF?” Raj asked, tugging off his headphones.
“What should we ask?” Jeannie countered.
“Something about it — I’d be careful who you ask, you know?” Raj began. It was the first time Paco say him with a serious face on. “It’s locked up tight, and I’m guessing no one mentioned it before because either it’s just for the students or there’s a code of secrecy or something.”
“Like, “the first rule of Fight Club is you don’t talk about Fight Club?” Jeannie asked with a smirk.
“I mean, kind of?” Raj answered. “Just try and get the email address set up and we can try it, but whoever the webmaster is will likely know it’s a fake, unless we cook up a whole background: Facebook, Instagram, school history — all that takes a long time to set up. So, I don’t know how you do it, but like, approach but don’t approach?” He gave Jeannie a long look. She nodded at him, brow furrowed.
“Okay.” Jeannie sounded skeptical. “Okay, I’ll do a dance.”
Paco parked the Park Police SUV in front of the Spanish-revival building that was the main headquarters of Academy Prep in Pacific Heights. The building was only three stories and somewhat unobtrusive in the neighborhood, even if it definitely looked like a school. Entering the building, Jeannie proceeded into an office off of the main hallways to ask for the Headmaster, and they were quickly ushered inside.
“Officer Hagen, Officer Mayfield, welcome to Academy.” The Headmaster shook their hands heartily and gestured for them to come into his office, closing the door behind them.
“Sorry we didn’t call ahead Headmaster, but we just wanted to make a short visit and gather up any of Alexa’s things, speak with some of her teachers—”
“Of course, of course.”
“We’d also like to talk with her guidance counselor?”
“Yes, yes of course.” The Headmaster inhaled deeply, nodding. “I’ll take you to her locker, and then I’ll introduce you to Cliff Rollins — he taught Alexa’s Myth and Modern Culture class. He will probably have some good insight. Marjorie Sands is our guidance counselor. I’ll introduce you to her first.”
“We may have to split up, if that’s okay?” Jeannie asked, “If you can just direct us to the locker and where I can meet with Ms. Sands and Mr. Rollins —”
“Oh, it’s Marjorie and Cliff — we’re all first-names here, even to the students.” Jeannie’s eyebrows raised.
“Oh yes, I’ve heard about this about Academy. Okay, Marjorie and Cliff. Meanwhile, Paco will gather her locker contents, does that work?”
“Well, let’s just pop in to Marjorie, she’s a few doors down the row here.”
After introductions, the Headmaster left Paco and Jeannie with Marjorie Sands, with the assurance that she’d then take them on to Alexa’s locker.
“Thanks for meeting with us, Marjorie?” Jeannie asked somewhat shyly. “Headmaster said you all go by first-names, which I suppose I’m not used to, I’m sorry.”
“Oh I know, it is a little strange. Even the parents take a minute to get used to it.” She gestured to the two chairs for them to sit and moved back to the other side of her desk. It was a small office, with a large calendar behind the desk indicating important school dates. A poster on one wall read “Ivy League” in a classic serif font, with a series of individual panes highlighting the different Ivy League campuses showcasing their autumnal foliage. A small plaque on the desktop read “You can do it!” — this was placed to face the visitor seats. Paco thought the encouragement of the plaque and the pressure of the Ivy League poster was an interesting contrast. “What can I help you with?”
“Well, can you tell us a bit about how the students have been taking the news about Alexa?”
“Not well, obviously. Especially since there’s no rhyme or reason to it, at least none that we’ve heard of.” Marjorie had flat brown hair and earnest hazel eyes, behind large glasses, and clothes that would have suited a guidance counselor when he was in high school. Paco thought she seemed too young to be as drab as she appeared. “We had an assembly, but as is the case, it’s those that weren’t close to Alexa who seem the most shocked and saddened. The friends that really knew her seem to be keeping their distance for now, dealing with it themselves.” Marjorie sounded disappointed at this. She seemed to want everyone’s emotions and intellects brought to her to work on.
“Which friends are those?” Jeannie asked, eyes large.
“Oh, Carolina Parker, Jennifer Tyson, even Charlie Dagonet — I know they all had classes with her, but I haven’t seen them yet. I did think Carolina might make her way to me, but not so far.” Marjorie shook her head slightly.
“I see.” Jeannie offered simply. “I’m sure they’re just trying to sort it out or think it through for a bit.”
“Yes.” Marjorie agreed. “Yes, and I’ll be here with my doors open when they’re ready.” She offered them an eager smile. Paco could tell she imagined herself as a ministering angel, there to solve all their teenage woes.
“Marjorie,” Jeannie began innocently, “may I ask you something? I wouldn’t normally think of it, but I think it may be helpful with the case and since you probably hear a lot from the students, I think you may be the right person.” Paco couldn’t believe how perfectly Jeannie was working her up; Marjorie instantly snapped at this bait.
“Of course! You know I’ll help in any way I can.” She leaned forward slightly, concern stretching her features.
“Well, we’ve heard that the students sometimes use an online forum, like, like a chatroom? We, we’ve heard that a lot of gossip —”
“Oh you mean that Prep site?” Marjorie leaned back with a victorious smile. “Yes yes, I’ve heard a few things about it, but no one has shown it to me.” She shrugged. “I think it’s just gossip, you know. If it were serious, I’d be hearing more about it. I don’t think it’s much of anything.”
“Ah, okay, well that’s reassuring.” Jeannie nodded at her. “Thank you for clearing that up. How do kids even make up a site like that anyways? It’s incredible.”
“Well, not so incredible.” Marjorie corrected. “At Academy we have a comprehensive computer science curriculum. The students create their own websites and build on them with each coding skill they learn. Some become quite advanced, actually, which is great for the Ivies.” Marjorie gestured to the poster on the wall.
“I can imagine. Yes, that must be quite valuable for colleges.” Jeannie smiled. “That was just starting when I was heading to school, but it’s been ten years, so I suppose it’s all different now.” She gave a shy chuckle.
“Yes,” Marjorie agreed. “Yes, you’ll find a lot of colleges require much more than they used to.” She offered a knowing smile.
“Well,” Jeannie looked to Paco, “thank you so much, you’ve been so helpful Marjorie.” Jeannie stood and Paco followed. “Do you think you could show us to Alexa’s locker? We need to gather up the rest of her items.”
“Oh, of course. Let me show you.” Marjorie gestured them out the door.
At the end of the hallway was an outdoor courtyard in the middle of the building. Lockers lined the inner court walls, the terra cotta tile roof creating an eaves to shelter them from the rain. The center of the court had a gurgling fountain and a series of benches flanked by lush planters full of perennials. Paco thought of his high school on the Res: a set of 6 leaky, windy trailers on an empty lot, one for each year of students, one for the principal and teachers to gather in, and one as a combo studio for music and art. The playing field was the lot next door, as long as the weather stayed dry. In the winter it was a mud puddle, but so was everything. In the summer (which began in late April and continued until December) it was scorched and dry. Of course, things were improved these days with the revenue from the casino, but those old trailers were still parked there. The school had an actual building nearby now, but the trailers had been left to rot; they were covered in graffiti, and used by the kids to goof around and get into trouble. Every time he went home he hoped he’d see they’d been hauled away.
“I think the class change is in another 10-15 minutes,” Jeannie said quietly as they approached Alexa’s locker. “Probably should do this before the students start mingling.”
“Yeah, I got it.” Paco pulled a bolt cutter out of his equipment bag. “I’ll just photograph it and bag everything. You go ahead and find that teacher.”
Jeannie continued on into the building on the opposite side of the courtyard and proceeded down the stairs a flight to the classroom the Headmaster had told her to find. A bulletin board outside was covered in black paper, with the heading “Myth and Modern Culture” spread across the top. Images of classic Greek pottery were mixed with images of stauary and even a few renderings of characters from myth. The classroom door was open, and a thirty-something man with a beard was bent over a desk, reading papers. Jeannie knocked on the door gently and the man looked up in surprise.
“Are you Cliff Rollins?”
“Yes, you’re from the police?”
“Yes, I’m Jeannie Hagen, SFPD.” Jeannie pushed her blazer to the side to show her star attached to her waistband. “I’m hoping I can talk with you about Alexa Thomas?”
“Yes, of course. The class starts after the recess. The bell will ring and then there’s a 15 minute recess in the morning, so we should have a minute.” Cliff Rollins was tall and attractive, with lively brown eyes behind a pair of classic horn-rimmed glasses.
“Okay, great.” Jeannie gave him a small smile. “We’ve heard quite a bit about your Myth and Modern Culture class from a few of your students. Apparently it’s quite popular.” Cliff gestured to one of the tables for them to sit.
“It is popular, which is great because it’s a new class. I’m just gratified that these kids have found an interest in mythology and the classics. I always loved it, so I’m glad the format works.”
“Can you tell me a bit about it?”
“Well, we operate in groups, so it’s a team grade which makes them take it very seriously.”
“Is that normal at Academy?”
“It depends, honestly.” Cliff shrugged. “When I pitched it to the board, I suggested this format so it would work with the students’ individual talents and interests, sharing them to build something…they went for it and it seems to be working.”
“So, how does that work, exactly?”
“Exactly, the groups are each assigned a different myth. They study the story, it’s themes, it’s morals, and then trace how the myth has been reinterpreted over and over through history. There’s a reason myths are classics — they’re essentially archetypes that lend themselves to all kinds of different expressions throughout the ages.” Jeannie cocked her head.
“Can you give me maybe one example?”
“Oh sure, so take Pygmalion and Galatea.”
“Right, the guy sculpted a statue who was so beautiful he fell in love with it, and his love was so true that the statue came alive and they lived happily ever after.” Cliff smiled and shrugged a little.
“Yes, that’s the gist of it. So you start there, and then you think of modern retellings of that story. So, off the top of my head I’d say Pygmalion by Shaw, which then turned into My Fair Lady, which is the closest reinterpretation. But then I ask them to reach for something a little unexpected, maybe a new interpretation of the story, so —”
“So, Funny Face or Pretty Woman or…any other makeover narrative?”
“Yes, you’ve got it. But they can’t just watch movies, they have to do some analysis. How exactly the themes are interpreted, etc.” A loud tone came out over the loudspeaker and the hallways outside started to fill with voices and movement. “That’s the first part of the project which was submitted about a week ago. By end of term, the groups need to create their own version of the myth. It can be a play, story, music composition — even a short film if they can do it.”
“It sounds fun. I love this kind of thing.” Jeannie smiled slightly. Cliff Rollins was likely everyone’s favorite teacher. He was cool, creative, personable, and probably inspired his students more than the others. “So, can you tell me about Alexa Thomas? What was she like as a student?” Cliff sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair.
“She was great, you know. Bright, creative, eager. She watched a lot of film and really engaged with the discussions. She seemed to be having a good time with it.”
“Did, did she seem to have friends here at Academy? I know she and Carolina were close.”
“They were. Always arrived to class together, left together. They were on soccer together — I know moving to a new school late in the game can be rough, so I was glad Alexa had made a close friend. Carolina is smart too.”
“What about Jennifer Tyson?” Cliff scoffed a bit at this.
“Well, that’s a student I can’t quite figure out. She’s always a little dreamy and odd, offers non-sequiturs that don’t really relate to the topic — I sometimes wonder if, if there’s some kind of deeper issue there.”
“Does she make good grades?”
“Kind of? She gets by. I’m not sure…please don’t take this as a judgement, I only have her for one class, but I do sometimes wonder if she may have an addiction issue or some kind of mental illness? Sometimes she’s entirely here, and other days she’s just off in the ether. She also makes attempts to flirt, which is awkward to say the least. I know Headmaster has spoken with her about it, letting her know it’s inappropriate. I think it ties in with whatever is going on with her. I have no idea what it could be, and I’ve expressed my concern to my colleagues —”
“And what do they say?”
“They agree. We’ve all seen it. No one seems to know what to do about it though.” Jeannie was quiet for a moment, considering her next move.
“And her parents?”
“They’re not really around from what I can gather. I know Headmaster has tried to get them more involved in her education, but I’m not sure what the dynamic is in that family. I know the parents are divorced, but it strikes me that Jen is mostly on her own.” Cliff’s mouth twitched as his eyes narrowed. “It’s sad. It’s — it also feels just, wrong. A teen deserves family support, especially in their senior year when the pressure is on.” Jeannie nodded thoughtfully.
“Okay, just one last thing Cliff. Have you ever heard of a chat room that the students use? Like an online forum.” Cliff’s face grew serious.
“Yeah. I’ve heard of it. Is it that Prep site where they use a 3 for the E?” Jeannie nodded. “Yeah, I’ve heard it can be really nasty from time to time. I only hear things in passing. I tried to look into it once and got nowhere. I know that Headmaster tried to get in there once with the email of a student who’d graduated and the next day our school servers crashed completely.”
“What? Are you kidding? That can’t be coincidence.”
“I don’t think it was. It was a warning.” Cliff blew out an exhale. “I don’t know what’s on there or how the kids access it, but it’s definitely secretive and someone makes sure of that.”
“Do you know why none of the students even talk about it?”
“Honestly, I think they’re told not to. Or maybe they have to give up something to gain access? Like, an ante of information? I have no idea why no one would talk about it. Normally they talk about everything.” Jeannie rolled her lips together, thinking.
“Okay, I think that’s everything for now, but can you please forward me Alexa’s projects for your class? I’d like to read over her work.” Jeannie pulled a card out of her jacket pocket.
“Of course. I’ll send it shortly.” A few students poked wandered into the classroom.
“Oh - sorry.” A tall boy with a mop of red curls apologized.
“No worries - we’re all set.” Jeannie said standing. “Thank you, Cliff. I wish you luck with the rest of the class, it all sounds fascinating.” They shook hands and Jeannie made her way out through the throngs of students now moving through the hallway.
Upstairs she found Paco, just zipping up the duffel bag of gear and evidence.
“Did you get everything?” Jeannie said softly as the loud students swirled around them.
“Oh yeah. Let’s get out of here.”