The Molly Maguires Club

Randi was frantic. Panicked. Every textbook. Every notebook. Her gym bag. Her pencil case. Every last thing from her locker spilled out onto the gray tile of the floor. She sank to her knees. Held her head in her hands and tried to steady her breathing that was coming hard and irregular. Her face reddened and beads of sweat quivered on her upper lip.

The steel doors at the end of the corridor banged closed, sending haunting vibrations through the halls. Metallic reverberations echoed in the empty stairwells. Further down, the door to the library swung shut. There was a jangling of keys. The turn and click of a heavy lock. A soft rustle of papers and the quiet pad of heavy footsteps. The eerie sounds that signal the close of the school day at Jim Thorpe High School went unnoticed by the lone girl, kneeling in front of her locker, urgently pulling her hands through her long, dark hair.

“Randi Keiper. It’s after four.” Jean Bickle, the school librarian, stood behind her. She dropped her heavy brocade bag, stuffed with books and paperwork, to the floor. Smoothed her hand through her white-gray hair and hoisted her purse onto her shoulder.

Randi hustled to her feet. Hung her head and wiped her sleeve across her face. “Miss Bickle. I’m… Uh… I’m sorry…”

“Is something wrong, Randi?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Bickle.,” Randi sniffed. “It’s my journal. I can’t find it. And I need it. Like - right now. I...”

Jean cut her tired gray eyes to the mess on the floor. “It looks like you’ve gone through everything here. Any chance you left it in one of your classes? Maybe at home?”

“No. I had it. I couldn’t have…”

“Well. Let’s get all this stuff stowed back in your locker. I’ll help you. If we don’t find it, you can check the Lost and Found box in the office tomorrow morning.”

“Miss Bickle. You don’t understand. My life - my entire life - is in that book. I’d die if anybody found it. If they read it…”

Jean rubbed her fingers against her furrowed brow. Let her handbag slide down her arm to the floor, and lowered herself to her knees next to Randi. “Well, let’s go through everything together. If we don’t find it, we’ll check at the office in the morning.”

***

Virginia Weiksner picked up her son’s backpack, dropped in front of the door. His books were strewn across the carpet in the sunny foyer. “Kyle! How many times do I have to tell you not to leave your books on the floor like this? Somebody could break a leg…”

He peered over the railing at the top of the stairs. “I’m sorry, Mom. Can I have a snack?”

“Sure. Come on down and I’ll fix you something. D’you have any homework?”

Kyle bounced down the steps, landing both stockinged feet on each of the carpeted stair treads, one at a time. Wrapped his arms around his mom’s shoulders and planted a brief kiss on her cheek. “Some. Not a lot. Can I do it after dinner?”

“Sure, Honey. Wanna help me pick these up?”, she said as she stooped to load the contents back into his pack. Algebra. History. English Composition. And a small, black, leather-bound notebook she hadn’t seen before. “What’s this?”, she asked in a tone that was gentle but direct.

He knelt down next to her. “Don’t know. I found it under the bleachers. The ones at the high school. After me an’ Justin got off the bus, we played around on the field for a while.”

Virginia took the notebook in hand and laid it off to the side of the breakfast bar in the kitchen. “I’m going to take it into the school office tomorrow. Turn it into Lost and Found. That is what we do with things that we find. Things that don’t belong to us.”

“I know, Mom. Can I have some nachos?”

***

After dinner, they cleared the dishes. Kyle went up to his room to do his homework and Virginia settled herself into her favorite chair in the living room with a glass of wine and the notebook. She ran her hand over the supple leather. What harm would it do if I had a read? She slipped the elastic band and opened the cover.

In case of loss, please return to:

Randi Keiper

Text me. Please! 570-325-5555

As a reward: $ (A pencil drawing of a rose and a smiley face)

Virginia smiled. She knew Randi Keiper as a sweet-natured, hard-working girl who had done some light house cleaning and yard work for her sister, Katherine, last summer. She slid her finger along the edge and turned the page.

The book was filled with diary entries, which she didn’t read in their entirety. Some creative ideas for stories, which she did, and some doodles that made her smile.

One particular entry brought her to a stop. Where most of the writing was light-handed and girly, this entry was written very strongly. Where the other stories were written in pencil, this one was inked with a heavy hand.

May 11

I want to die. Gene Warmkessel from the Admissions Department at Slippery Rock U came to the house at 6:30. We just finished dinner and my father wouldn’t even let me and my mother clear the table. GW sat there with his iPad on his lap, his paperwork on the floor. It was embarrassing. Totally embarrassing. But he was so gracious about it. He said I was eligible for early matriculation and that they granted me a 5 year scholarship - a full ride! And then he asked my father to fill out the FAFSA. My father just sat there staring at him. Like he’d lost his freaking mind. Then my father was looking at me - right in the eyes - and said, “Nope. Girls don’t need to go to college. And besides, she’s too smart already.” After that, I left the table and locked myself in my room. I can’t even look at him. I won’t.

Virginia turned up her glass and swallowed the last of the Pinot Grigio. She couldn’t imagine anyone, let alone the father of such a bright, creative girl, being so dismissive about such an accomplishment. And worse - blocking her opportunity for a scholarship. She turned a few pages back and found one of the entries she was looking for:

November 14 - MY BIRTHDAY!!!

I just found out I got a 1420 on my PSATs!!! I’m so stoked! It’s the best present - EVER! Slippery Rock, here I come!

She slid the bookmark ribbon between the pages and went up to check on Kyle. He was in his room. His TV was off and his computer screen showed his lesson plans. He was doing his homework, just as they agreed. She felt lucky - even blessed. He was such a sweet boy and a dedicated student.

“Do you need any help, Honey?”

“No, Mom. Thanks. I’m good.”

“Can I see what you’re working on?”

“Sure!” He handed over his algebra workbook and turned his attention back to his history book.

She roughed up his hair and smiled at him. “Dad’ll be home soon. Come on down, please. Whenever you’re ready.”

He flashed a bright, cheesy grin. “Right-Toe! Mommy-Oh!”

***

It was just after nine when George pulled into the garage and came into the kitchen.

“How’s my best girl?” He smiled and wrapped his arms around Virginia, planting a soft kiss on her lips.

Kyle bounded in and climbed up into a chair at the end of the breakfast bar. “Hey Dad!”

George undid his tie. Shucked off his suit coat. Draped it over the back of the chair, and sat next to his son. They bantered back and forth, chiding each other, while Virginia made her husband a plate and warmed it in the microwave above the range.

After finishing his meal, George went up to tuck Kyle in and Virginia tidied the kitchen. She poured two glasses of wine and took them into the living room when she heard George coming down the stairs.

He slid in next to his wife on the sofa and took up his glass. “This case - the pro bono. It’s a heartbreaking one. Custodial Interference and Spousal Abuse.” He turned his face to Virginia and pulled her into his embrace. “It just makes me glad that we are who we are. I’m a lucky man to have you as my wife.”

“We are lucky, George. I’m lucky.”

They sat quietly together for a few moments before Virginia handed the notebook to George. “I know you have a lot on your plate right now, but I’d really like you to look at this.”

George sat forward and opened the book. “This belongs to Randi Keiper? How…?”

“Kyle found it under the bleachers at the high school. Read it. Please.”

Virginia shifted her position to face her husband while George tuned the pages. A shadow crossed his face. “I can’t believe what I’m reading. A guidance counselor at the high school suggested she seek emancipation?” He sipped from his glass, set it down on the coffee table in front of him, and turned to face his wife. “And then they let that drop. Offered her nothing. What kind of guidance is that?”

“I want to help her, George. I’d like you to help her. Look…” Virginia took the book from her husband’s hands and turned to the pages she had tabbed. “She’s made the honor roll every semester and never missed a beat. Attended the Regional Summer School for the Arts, two years in a row. Has a scholarship to Slippery Rock - a five year, full ride scholarship. And she’s a semi-finalist for the National Merit Scholarship Program.” Her voice took on a higher pitch as she continued, “And her parents - her father - he’s blocking her path, refusing to fill out the FAFSA. Who does that? I mean, really. What kind of parents are they…?”

George continued reading the pages his wife had bookmarked and stopped. “What are you thinking, Ginny-Love?”

“I’m thinking about that scholarship you want to set up at the firm. The $20,000.00. That would certainly help her get through the first year. Maybe the first two. And maybe you could help her with the emancipation paperwork. Help her in court…”

He took out his phone and called up his calendar. “I’m free for lunch tomorrow. Why don’t you see if she can meet with us? If not tomorrow, then Saturday.”

“I will, George. I’ll call her tomorrow morning. Before school.”

***

Randi arrived at Molly Maguires Irish Pub just after one o’clock on Saturday afternoon. “I’m sorry I’m late. I… I couldn’t decide what to wear and…”, she stammered, sliding into the booth across from Mister and Missus Weiksner.

They were both smiling as Virginia took the notebook from her handbag and slid it across the table. “Think nothing of it, Randi. We’re just delighted that you agreed to join us. We ordered iced tea. If there’s anything else you’d like, you know you’re welcome. This lunch is our treat.”

“But I should… I just want to thank you. Thank your son. For finding my journal. I must’ve dropped it at the pep rally....” Randi’s hand trembled as she laid it on top of her cherished notebook.

Virginia reached across the table and laid her hand on top of Randi’s. “I want to be completely honest with you, Randi. George and I read through some of your writing and we’re sorry. Sorry for everything you’re going through. But we do want to help.”

Randi felt the heat rise from her collar as a tear slid down her cheek.

George unfolded a check from the breast pocket of his shirt and placed it in front of her.

She saw her name and gasped, “$20,000.00…”

“It’s for your education, Randi. My wife and I - and my law firm - we’re going to help you.”