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Authors: Jimmy Patterson

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BOOK: An Absence of Principal
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Doggett clicked OK and was taken immediately to a site called Bookemdano.com

“Let the fun begin,” he thought to himself.

CHAPTER 1
 

Six weeks later

 

MAY 24, 2003

 

 

NAME: Ben41

PASSWORD: AnteUp

 

WAGER: $1,000.00

 

Dealer: Hit or hold?

Ben41: Hit me.

Dealer: 5 of clubs. 16 showing. Hit or hold?

Ben41: Hit me. Double or nothing.

Dealer: 6 of Diamonds. Bust. Hand over.

System Administrator: Please submit $1,000.00 before continuing to play Jack-A-Diamonds 21.

 

B
en clicked cancel. He had already tried to escape the JackADiamonds site before tabbing out but his computer froze up, forcing him to log back in and pay his mounting debt before he could continue with another hand. In the last week he figured he had lost at least three thousand dollars at the JackADiamond site and Bookemdano.com. Ben re-logged in and returned to play some more. He paid up his losses and refigured just how much more he could lose before the family finances were a total shambles.

The first bell of the morning rang and Sam Houston Elementary was filled within moments. The morning bell was Ben’s cue to step outside and greet the little tykes as they rumbled down the hallways, screaming and shouting and giving him a splitting headache to go with his morning chills and the cold sweats, the two most prominent symptoms that came with losing four figures in a single online casino roll of the virtual dice.

“Hi, Mr. Doggett!” It was Margaret Camby, a precocious second grader offering her usual delightful greeting. Margaret had no idea that her cheery attitude was especially irritating to the principal this morning as she bounded off to her homeroom class.

Timothy Turner, a nearly college-ready fourth grader, strolled past Doggett and shook his hand, just as he did every morning. “Good morning, Mr. Doggett, sir.”

“Morning, Timothy. You get all your homework done last night?” the principal returned the conversation.

“Yes, sir! Would you like to see it?”

“No, no, I believe you,” Doggett said. “Just make sure you get it in to your teacher on time.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Doggett. Have a good day, sir,” the uber-brilliant young boy said.

Doggett pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his brow, which was shiny with his self-made morning layer of perspiration by now. His heart was racing and it felt every bit like the Monday morning it was. The second bell bored through every inch of Doggett’s skull as his morning hallway principal’s smile was replaced with the look of dread that told the real story of his mood. Fortunately the last few students had slipped into their classrooms for the day and Doggett would no longer have to paste on the award-winning look of joy he could fake so well.

“Teachers and students, good Monday morning. It’s a good day to be a Stephen F. Austin Patriot!” Doggett announced with his trademark glee, whether he actually possessed it or not. “We have an exciting week coming up, boys and girls, as we prepare for this year’s Field Day Competition and the end of school for another year. If you will all stand now for the Pledge of Allegiance and the Pledge to the Texas Flag …”

After the morning’s patriotic duties were over, Doggett clicked off the microphone and fell back into his seat. His fondness for Internet gaming was as bad as any junkie or meth-head looking for his next high. He felt the rush overtake him every time he booted up and logged on.

But the biggest problem was this: Ben’s unauthorized virtual recesses were slowly bankrupting his family, destroying his kids’ chances at college, and dashing any hopes his wife would have for going on their Alaskan cruise to celebrate the magical 25th anniversary they’d been working toward for so long. But it was all going to be OK. Because none of them knew about his little problem. Yet. And he was going to find a way to fix it all before it got too far out of hand.

Ben Doggett, family man and education professional, hid his addiction well. It helped that it was his responsibility to keep track of the family finances. That alone made it easier to gloss over any big deductions and blame them on bills or golf outings or overages on trips taken on behalf of the school system. The state had cut funding to so many programs there was really no telling how many times Doggett had to dip into his own pocket to pay for a DVD series, or a carton of construction paper or motivational coffee mugs for his staff of World’s Greatest Teachers. Some months, Ben knew, he could just blame the loss of so much of the family’s money on being an educator in today’s world. It may even work the first time.

Doggett sat at his desk with his head buried in his hands. It was the closest he had come to tears since his expensive habit had taken hold of him several weeks earlier. The fleeting feelings of depression that overcame him so soon after the highs he experienced were not right, he knew that. He knew somehow he would have to find another way to fund, as he called it, his “hobby.”

There was a knock at his office door. It opened quickly and in stepped Shanna, Doggett’s secretary, someone who in the last few weeks had become much closer. She cozied up to her boss, snuggled him and finally noticed he was shaking.

“What’s wrong, Ben?” she said.

“Problems at home. It’s nothing,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

Doggett loved the feel of the young woman in his arms but often felt a pain inside knowing that he was so far into not only his online problem but to top it off, his illicit little affair. It was starting to dawn on him that there was nothing he could do to get out of either situation without a boatload of collateral damage somewhere.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just hate it when you’re not all smileys first thing on a Monday morning,” Shanna said.

She grabbed him and kissed him and Doggett took advantage of the interlude for several moments before nudging her away.

“I can’t do this right now. I have a few things I need to get done. Could you be a big help to me and print out the teacher reports? I need to focus today,” Doggett said. It was a bit more assertive than normal for him. Shanna had never been on the receiving end of a ‘no’ from Doggett. He was usually putty in her arms.

Doggett’s redirecting of the conversation was an excuse just to get the young woman out of the office so he could refocus his energies on his personal well-being and on the work at hand, at least for the moment. He finally picked up the phone to call his wife. Her voice always comforted him; always made him feel human again, not quite so much the creep that he had recently become as he lied his way through his life with her.

“Good morning, honey. Just wanted to call and tell you I love you,” Doggett squirmed. He wiped a trickling bead of sweat from his forehead. “How ‘bout let’s have us a big family dinner tonight and get to know each other again. Seems like work has gotten the best of me lately. I just wanna make it up to you.”

Angela Doggett embraced the moment and made him feel like a good husband again. He promised her he’d be home by six and swore his undying love for her. Again.

“I’ll see you tonight, sweetheart. You’re the best,” Doggett said. He hung up the phone and realized again what a despicable jerk he was. Cheater. Internet gambling addict. Neglectful father. Selfish. Self-centered. He could normally sit and think of scores of words that ate into his self-respect when he sank this low. How far the mighty had fallen.

Angela made him feel so worthy. Actually the feeling he had was more relief than anything now that he knew that she wasn’t wise to his cheating and his gambling yet. As quickly as the feeling of depression was there, it was gone again, replaced by a feeling of self-worth which was always provided by his understanding wife. He used that fleeting feeling to congratulate himself, and so he logged on to
Jackadiamonds.com
and placed a simple bet. One hand of Black Jack. Just one, he tried to convince himself. He had 18 showing and was on his fifth card.

 

Dealer: Stay or play?

Ben41: Play.

Ten of hearts. You bust.

 

Wha, wha, wha.

The muted trumpet sound effect imitated a crying baby, and Ben was getting really tired of hearing it. It’s why he preferred BookemDano — no stupid loser music when you bust. And you will bust. Often. If Ben heard it again, it would be all he needed to send him over the edge. Two-thousand dollars lost in less than sixty seconds! He was now a good twelve-thousand in debt. What he had lost in online gambling could have easily paid for a semester at college for the twins and the cruise with Angela. He would never know how to tell her that her dream of a lifetime had been squandered away.

The hole he was digging for himself and his family was growing deeper by the hour. He couldn’t turn away from it. He’d been giving his situation some thought in his insomniac hours late at night and soon realized there was only one way out of his mess. One unfortunate way.

When the school bell rang to signal an end to Monday, Doggett stood in the hallway and waved goodbye to Timothy Turner, Margaret Camby and the couple of hundred other rug rats that would have, under any other circumstances, sometime in his pre-gambling Ben days, brightened his afternoon. In that other life, he would have lived up to the kind of person the kids thought he was. The way Doggett felt these days, though, all he wanted was to get as far away from the screaming munchkins as possible. If the school board found out what kind of man he really was becoming, they should show no mercy on his soul. Ben Doggett knew that.

Doggett picked up the phone. It was a call he had hoped to not have to make. When he made it he promised himself that what he was about to do,
what he had to do for the sake of his family,
he would do only long enough to get himself out of debt and the family finances back on track. He would come clean about his problem and he would settle things with his wife and he would promise to turn away from the advances of his secretary every time, as soon as this little unfortunate kink in his life was ironed out.

He hung up the phone and began to cry over the thought of what he had just arranged. Timothy Turner, an eight-year-old habitual forgetter, had left his homework and his English book in his desk and had decided to run back to school to fetch it before his mom got home from work. He walked by Mr. Doggett’s office in time to see him in his anguish.

“You OK, Mr. Doggett?” Timothy asked as he stood at the principal’s door.

Doggett looked up and brushed away the tears. He made something up and assured the kid he would be fine, even though he knew he wouldn’t be fine. He scooted Timothy down the hall and thanked him for his concern. He picked up the phone again, called Angela and told her he was sorry, something unexpected had come up and he would be late, but would still be home by seven. A teacher, he said, had called and was having some car trouble out on the interstate. As soon as he helped her he’d be home. It would be the first of many times he failed to follow through on a promise he made to her.

The referee’s whistle cut through Ben Doggett’s searing headache when he blew it, and the screaming, the running and the jumping children just made the pain worse. If he was a drinker he would have understood the constant headaches he was having in the mornings, but these weren’t drink-induced pains. Doggett’s living-on-the-edge lifestyle and his other addictions were what brought on the morning agony. The stress had become insurmountable.

Shanna walked up behind him and brushed against him accidentally on purpose. Doggett, busy serving as master of ceremonies and head referee at Stephen F. Austin Elementary’s 47th annual Field Day and Soda Bash, could not be bothered. Besides, he convinced himself as he blew the whistle again that he had sworn off Shanna’s advances. It was his first step back to respectability and to being a decent husband and father.

Doggett knew he could give up his extramarital fling with little effort compared to the task he had ahead of giving up his gambling. That would be impossible, and he in fact had no idea how he was to even go about it.

BOOK: An Absence of Principal
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ads

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