STUDENT COMPLAINT #Q39A
Name:Joel Soto
Year:11
Student ID:107A
File Date:October 9
By request of his father, Millcreek High soccer coach David Soto, Joel Soto made an appointment with counselor Jessica Finn. While initially reluctant to open up, Soto eventually disclosed that he’d been the victim of ongoing bullying by fellow juniors Jose Perez and Danny Bauer. Said bullying was alleged to include name calling (including various slurs about Soto’s sexuality), and several instances of physical abuse (punching, kicking, and slapping being explicitly named). Following his session with Mrs. Finn, Soto expressed interest in pursuing action against Perez and Bauer.
A formal investigation was conducted, including reviewing camera footage from the vicinity of the team locker room, as well as interviewing Soto, Perez, and Bauer’s teammates. No evidence was found to support Soto’s claims. Unless new evidence is presented, this case will be considered closed on November 27.
14
Screams rip through the silence and water splashes onto me but all I can make out are the vague outlines of bodies scrambling to make their way to safety in the pitch-black night. Without any light to guide us, it’s pure madness. A frantic free-for-all as arms and elbows shove into me so roughly I’m knocked beneath the water before I can ever stand up. Warmth burns my cheeks and water clogs my throat, my sinuses, my everything as I push myself back to the surface as quickly as I can. The whiplash of the slight chill against my too-warm skin stings as harsh as a bruise as I rub my eyes in a desperate attempt to get them to adjust to the dark faster.
“Everyone calm down!” Kai’s voice interjects from somewhere over my shoulder. When I turn around, my vision has cleared enough for me to see the glimmer of one of his earrings. “A fuse probably blew. I’ll go check it out.”
Behind me, someone whimpers.
“Does anyone have their phone?” Kai asks, his voice steady but uneven, like he’s barely keeping it together.
“Mine’s upstairs,” I offer up when no one else does. There should still be plenty of battery since I turned it off as soon as I got here, but getting all the way upstairs without any light is its own challenge.
“I think I left mine on the table,” Kiki finally says, sounding unusually distant. Maybe she was able to make it out of the tub without breaking a bone in the process.
No one dares move a muscle or make a sound as Kai roots through the dark for the table. The wood of the deck creaks beneath his slow, careful footsteps. Hitched gasps ring out when we hear part of him collide with something solid enough to make him hiss. “I’m okay,” he reassures us. Based on the silence, he must take his time to work through the pain before moving again.
I crane my neck until I can make out the sound of his hand gently patting the table on the opposite end of the deck, searching for Kiki’s phone. My muscles begin to ache from the strain when a piercing light shines directly at me. I wrench my eyes shut and back away like a vampire from the sun, stars blooming behind my closed lids.
“Shit, sorry,” Kai mumbles before adjusting his grip, pointing the phone’s flashlight toward the floor instead.
It’s enough light for me to make out the shape of him—how his hands are trembling. How he’s hunched in on himself—either from the cold, or to make himself feel smaller. A less visible target. A stark contrast to the calm confidence he’d put on when he addressed us.
Carefully, he shines the light just below the hot tub and holds his hand out toward me. With his help I’m able to get out of the water and join Kiki on the edge of the deck, just a few feet from the sliding door. He begrudgingly does the same for Carla and Timothy, waiting until everyone is safely out of the tub to point the flashlight toward the sky, bathing all of us in the dim but harsh light.
“We should have flashlights in one of the kitchen drawers.They’ll work better than our phones,” he says calmly, looking at me, Carla, and Kiki. “And I’ll need help getting the ladder out from the garage.” This time, he looks pointedly at Timothy.
It takes several seconds for Timothy to pick up on Kai’s unsaid request, blinking at us in confusion before looking back at Kai with wide, panicked eyes. “Why does it have to be me?” he squeaks out—a sound I’d find amusing if my heart wasn’t still pounding so hard I can feel it vibrating through my entire body.
“Because you’re the boys,” Carla snaps as if it’s obvious. “And boys never die first in horror movies.”
Whether or not that’s true, it’s a solid enough argument for Timothy to reluctantly give in. “Fine,” he mutters, pulling on his sneakers before walking to the edge of the deck, where a small staircase leads out to the back of the cabin. “Lead the way.”
Left to fend for ourselves, Kiki, Carla, and I carefully make our way back into the cabin, feeling our way along the edges of the deck until we’re able to make it to the door. As soon as the boys turn the corner, we’re left in the same darkness we started with. Instantly, I regret not asking Kai to stay and help us find the flashlights before he went to check out the fuse. If Kiki and Carla have the same thought, they don’t say it out loud—either because they’re too proud, or too scared to go back outside and call for help that might not come. You don’t have to watch many horror movies to know that that’s a rookie mistake. The kind that, if this were more than just a blown fuse, could cost us more than we could ever imagine. I shudder at the thought, frozen in place as soon as the door to the deck slides shut behind me.
Maybe it’s the horror movie still fresh in my mind, but the cabin seems a lot more menacing now than it did when we first arrived.
Thankfully, Kiki knows the layout well enough that she walks ahead of us with confidence, not needing to feel along the walls to find her way through the space. Beside me, Carla chooses to linger by the door too. Outside may have felt more dangerous, but at least we had the moon for comfort. It wasn’t much, but inside we don’t even have so much as the glowing clock on the microwave to guide us.
The room is silent except for the sound of Kiki’s soft footsteps. My skin prickles when the footsteps stop—Kiki is far away enough that she’s disappeared completely into the void of darkness, nothing left of her but the lingering scent of her perfume. Carla begins tapping her foot impatiently. Between the irregular tapping I hear the flick of a light switch. Once, twice, then a rapid flutter, but nothing changes.
“It doesn’t work,” Kiki says with a grunt. I don’t need to see her to picture the annoyance and anger that must be written all over her.
“Of course it doesn’t work,” Carla snaps, and lets out a huff of air before returning to tapping her foot.
Before I can decide whether it’s worth following the sound of Kiki’s voice and walking toward the kitchen, I’m startled by a clattering sound that feels as loud as thunder. Kiki rustling through the kitchen drawers. After several seconds of muttered curses to herself, Kiki lets out a nervous laugh before light fills the room. Following her brother’s lead, Kiki points the flashlight she’s found toward the ceiling, bathing the room in enough light for me and Carla to rush over to her in the kitchen.