Matt looked on, mouth agape, dismayed that doing the right thing merited expulsion. He bore down on Principal Anderson with his eyes and pointed a finger at the table. “You’re telling me that I’m being expelled for defending myself and a helpless animal? I was in danger, Mr. Anderson. And protecting the dignity of the school by stopping psychotic behavior. Please, I’ll do anything to rectify this.”

“I’m sorry,” Principle Anderson said, shifting his beady eyes from Matt to his father. “You folks are aware that both Ben’s parents are trial lawyers? The school doesn’t want a drawn-out legal battle and I don’t think you folks do either.” Principal Anderson leaned back in his leather chair, satisfied with the dagger he’d unleashed.

A pall crept into the room, and then his mother and father rose from the table. His mother placed her gentle hand on his shoulder and whispered. “Come on Matthew, it’s time to go.”

That was the end of Matt Kearns’s career at Walnut Grove High. He’d opted to finish his senior year at a computer-based satellite school. He flew through the courses, earning his diploma in June.

Two weeks later, a few residents reported seeing the trapper leave the area, empty cages rattling in the back of his truck.

Journey

JOURNEY

Matt Kearns gazed out the windshield, the truck headlights slicing through the Michigan darkness. Moths and mayflies fluttered in the beams along the sloping embankment. He cracked the window and breathed deep. Clean gusts of air curled the edges of three photographs taped to his dashboard. Green glow from the instrument cluster illuminated the photos like museum pieces. The first photo was of his father and him, each hoisting a fresh brook trout. The second photo was of his ex-girlfriend, Stacey. The third photo was of his childhood dog, Elmo.

They were all dead.

His father from lung cancer, and his ex-girlfriend from a drunk named Ed Higgins. The inebriated Ed Higgins ran her over while she was jogging in Ruger Park. She never heard the drunken slob coming thanks to her ear buds. Elmo, good old Elmo, had been taken by cancer as well, but he didn’t go as quietly as his father. There wasn’t much quiet about Elmo. He’d been a protective, if not psychotic Shih Tzu.

Matt sighed and took in the Northwoods air, which always had a way of clearing his thoughts. He gripped the wheel and sighed again.