Lovely Girls(44)

The meeting was held in a classroom that smelled like sneakers, body spray cologne, and hormone-infused sweat. Lines of desks faced the teacher’s desk and whiteboard. There were already twenty parents there, all of whom looked worried. I spotted Emma and Ingrid sitting together in the back, but they didn’t look up when I entered. They either didn’t see me or were studiously ignoring me. Genevieve was not there, which was a relief. I certainly wasn’t looking forward to our next confrontation. I took a seat in the front of the classroom.

“Thank you all for coming,” Principal Hopkins said as she strode into the room, shutting the door firmly behind her. She was wearing a conservative bottle-green suit paired with stylish booties. “I know it was short notice, but there’s a situation that you all need to know about.

“Seth Townsend, the coach for the girls’ tennis team, has been arrested for allegedly having an inappropriate sexual relationship with one of the girls on the team. The . . .” She paused, her composure slipping for the first time. “. . . sexual act in question was filmed. Someone, I don’t know who, texted the video to a number of our students, and some of them forwarded it to others. I believe that quite a few students at the school have seen it.”

I stared at her, her words slowly sinking in. A sexual relationship? Caught on video? With which girl? And then, panic set in. Had he targeted my daughter?

Apparently, every other parent was wondering the same thing. There was an outburst of noise as nearly every parent in the room started to talk at once.

“Who filmed it? And what’s on the video?”

“Which girl was it?”

“The kids have all seen it?”

The principal raised her hand.

“Please, let me finish,” she said, raising her voice to be heard above the din of parental outrage. “I’ll tell you as much as I can. But I can’t disclose who the victim is. Please be assured her parents have already been notified.”

The noise level went down a notch or two at this, although a low-level buzz of whispering remained. From what I could pick up from the snippets of conversation around me, everyone was wondering which girl was involved.

“The girl in question is a minor, and Coach Townsend is both an adult and an employee of the school district. The case seems rather open and shut. However, this remains an open investigation, so the police may be in contact with some of you,” Principal Hopkins continued. “We have obviously terminated Coach Townsend’s employment.”

One of the fathers raised his hand. When the principal nodded at him, he asked, “What about the team? They’re in the middle of the season.”

“Practice has been canceled for the rest of the week. We’re going to look for a replacement who will hopefully be able to step in quickly,” Principal Hopkins said. “We’ll send out an email as soon as we have a new coach in place. Any other questions?”



Once the meeting was adjourned, I stood, hoping to get away quickly. I didn’t know whether Emma and Ingrid would snub me, the way they had snubbed Taylor, but I decided not to give them the opportunity.

But before I could leave, Principal Hopkins said, “Is Mrs. Turner here? Alex’s mother?”

I raised my hand. “Yes, I’m here.”

“Will you stay a moment?” she asked.

I waited by the bulletin board, which was decorated with a history theme—a laminated poster of the Constitution, pictures of famous United States monuments—while the other parents filed out. Emma and Ingrid were either in deep conversation or pretending to be as they swept by without even glancing in my direction. A number of parents were eagerly waiting to speak to the principal. From what I could hear, all of them wanted to make sure their daughter wasn’t involved, while also digging for additional information.

Finally, Principal Hopkins held up a hand. “I know you all have questions, but I’ve told you all I can for now. I’ll be in contact when we’ve hired a new coach.”

Her tone was firm and final enough that the lingering parents gave up and filed out. Principal Hopkins glanced at me.

“Mrs. Taylor?” the principal asked.

“Please, call me Kate.” I held out my hand, and she shook it. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Why don’t we go to my office so we can speak in private.”

I followed Principal Hopkins out into an exterior corridor that skirted around a courtyard. We passed by loose knots of teenagers who stood or sat at the outdoor picnic tables, chatting and laughing together.

“Just in here.” The principal opened the exterior door to a suite of administrative offices. She breezed in, greeting the staff sitting at the desks.

“I have some paperwork for you,” a young man who looked to be in his late twenties said. He held up a sheaf of papers.

“Give me five minutes to talk to this parent, and then I’ll give it my full attention,” Principal Hopkins told him. She waved me into her office, which was small, with an enormous desk that took up most of the space. There was a narrow bookshelf against one wall, filled with books and framed family photographs.

“Please take a seat.” She gestured toward two leather-upholstered chairs and then sat behind her desk, which was covered with orderly stacks of paper.

“I’m afraid that there’s been a serious allegation made. About Alex,” Ms. Hopkins began.