The Incident At Maple Valley Elementary

The Incident At Maple Valley Elementary

This is a true story.

         “Hi there! How are you?”

         “Not so good.”

         “What’s wrong?” Frank could tell his daughter Caitlyn was pretty upset and immediately changed his demeanor as she replied.

         “The school called today, I had to pick up Steve.”

         “What happened?”

         “I was told he got in a fight with another kid. When I got there, they had him in a room, two men were with him, holding him pinned against the wall. One man had an arm and leg, the other man had his other arm and leg, essentially pinning him spread-eagle against the wall.”

         “They were doing what to him?” Frank was incredulous and couldn’t understand why his eight year old grandson would be treated like a criminal.

         “A boy named Dave was hitting Steve, but the teacher never saw that. What she did see was Steve hitting Dave back. He was told to stop, but Dave hit him again. Of course Steve hit him back, and she caught him again. So the teacher called the principal, and he came to get Steve from the room. Jeff and I have taught Steve, Rob, and Zoe not to go with strange people. As you know, we’re new to the area, and he’s new in this school. Well, in his mind, this was a strange man trying to remove him from the classroom. He started resisting, so the principal called the Physical Education teacher, and the two of them took him to the office. When I walked in, I saw them holding him pinned to the wall and immediately told them to release my son. Dad, his face is a little swollen, and I’m so mad right now…”

         Caitlyn’s voice trailed off, but Frank could feel her anger through the phone.

         “I’ll be there in an hour Kate, we’ll get this straightened out.”

         “Dad, you can’t. You’re in Chicago, we’re out here in Washington, you can’t get here that –“

         “Kate, I said I’ll be there, and I will.” Frank’s voice was cold and held more anger than Caitlyn had heard in years, and she remembered a time in the past…. “Now, take Steve to the doctor and get this documented. With a swollen face and possible bruising coming on, it would be easy for anyone to say you or Jeff did this, I’ll be there soon.”

         An hour later, Frank stood in front of Maple Valley Elementary School. As he walked towards the front entrance, he felt his hands shake, the hair on his forearms stand on end as his anger grew. It was with a lot of effort that he controlled his anger. As he opened the main door of the school, he saw a sign for the administration office. Entering the office he saw the receptionist sitting behind the counter and asked, “Where is Ms. Swain’s room?”

         “May I ask who you are sir, and why you want to know where her room is?”

         “I am Frank Coffey, I need to talk to her about my grandson, and what happened this afternoon.”

         “I’m sorry sir, it’s against school regulations for anyone who is not a parent to go into a classroom.…”

         Frank’s voice cut across the receptionist’s like ice, his eyes boring into hers as he said, “Tell me where her classroom is.” Later on, the receptionist would not remember telling him the classroom location, nor could she explain why she had told him where it was.

         Frank walked down the hallway to Mrs. Swain’s room. Again he felt his anger surge, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to control it much longer. Finding the door to Ms. Swain’s room, he opened the door and entered the room.

         “Who are you? What are you doing here?” The young woman asking him the questions couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, and looked far too young to be a teacher.

         “Never mind who I am. I want to know which one of these children is the one who was hitting Steve this afternoon.”

         “I’m sorry sir, you aren’t supposed to be in here, I’m going to have to call the office.”

         “Don’t press that intercom button Ms. Swain.” The ice in Frank’s voice cut across the room like a scythe cutting through grown wheat, freezing Ms. Swain as she reached for the intercom button. “Good, now just stand there for a moment while I handle things.” Though his voice didn’t sound as icy now, Ms. Swain continued to stand there as if paralyzed, her eyes wide in fear, nostrils flaring.

         Frank turned to face the young students, the hair on his arms now standing straight, pushing his shirt off the skin, making him appear larger than he was. As he did, he saw every one of them was moving to the side, leaving one child facing him alone.

         “You must be David, the little punk who picked on Steve today.” Now Frank’s voice was like silk, smoothly spearing through the air, soft to the ear. As Frank continued to speak, his voice picked up in volume and his whole body shook. “Let me tell you something little boy. I don’t want you bothering my grandson again. If you so much as look at him wrong, I will come here. Next time I will not be so kind, nor gentle. I’ll take you from this room and rip your head off your body and turn it inside out, then put it on your shoulders backwards!” As he spoke, Frank’s body started to shake harder, his voice now a roar that could be heard outside the school. Though he wasn’t dancing, he appeared to spin a bit like a top as he walked. His face changed, hair sprouting from his ears, chin, and eyebrows; his fingers and teeth elongating until claws and fangs protruded from the ends. As he finished speaking, he stood in front of Dave, who somehow managed to appear unafraid. “Do I make myself perfectly clear to you? Do I?”

         “Yes, but I don’t scare so easily. Werewolves are nothing.” Reaching into the backpack sitting on his desk, Dave quickly removed the gun from its pocket. He saw Frank’s eyes widen in surprise as he aimed it at him, and swiftly pulled the trigger. The gun erupted with a roaring ….



         …. sound she slammed the book shut.

         “David Wooten! Wake up young man! You will not sleep in my class!”

         Groggily, David opened his eyes to the sight of his teacher standing over his desk. In her hands was the textbook he’d knocked to the floor in his sleep. Both hands were pressed to the front and back, and he swore he could see the air moving swiftly away from the book due to her actions.



Okay, so I exaggerated a little, about this being a true story.

Jim Dorrell
5/30/12