Just Another Hero (17 page)

THURSDAY, MARCH 10

UPSTAIRS, MISS PRINGLE'S ENTIRE CLASS
stood by the windows watching the spectacle below. A police car had pulled up to the front of the school, red and blue lights flashing. Two officers had gone inside the building, but neither had come out yet. Kofi watched, trying to ignore his body screaming for a pain pill.
A couple more days,
he thought,
and I'll be past this. No more little Oxy babies for me. No more.
He felt like slapping himself on the back.

“Who they busting?” Cleveland asked.

“I don't know, man,” Kofi replied with a shrug.

“What was all that blue light stuff about down in Room 123?” Brandon wondered.

“If your hands glowed under that light, that proved you were the school thief,” Rudy explained.

“So who did they catch?”

“I don't know, man. After they checked each person, they made you leave. They obviously caught somebody,
though. All I know is, it wasn't me!” said Jericho.

Eddie sat in the back of the room, his feet up on the desk in front of him. “And it wasn't
me
. Although I know lots of you hoped it was.” He glanced at Dana.

Kofi tightened and released his fists.
I'm not gonna mess up the rest of my life by clocking this dude,
he thought.
But it sure would feel good.

Kofi caught Dana's eye.
Not today,
she seemed to be saying. She took a deep breath as she watched him, and indicated he should do the same. He did, but it only helped a little.

Eric Bell said, “I notice they didn't call
me
down to be checked. I guess they were looking for somebody who could run real fast with the stolen loot!”

Jericho grabbed the handles of Eric's chair and gave him a twirl. “I've seen you get top speeds on that thing in an empty hallway, Eric. An electric wheelchair is an awesome motorcycle. Don't underestimate yourself!”

“And don't overestimate my chair. A kid on roller skates could beat me!”

“So where's Miss Pringle?” asked Kofi.

“The coffee queen? Probably downstairs in the cafeteria filling up,” November replied.

“And where's Rosa?” Luis said, concern in his voice. “It's not like her to be late to class. The last I saw her was when we were in that room getting checked.”

“Well, maybe she's the thief,” Roscoe suggested. “Maybe that police car is for your girl.”

“Don't you talk like that, man!” Luis rose out of his chair, his fist drawn back.

“Hey, chill, dude,” Roscoe said apologetically. “I was just jokin'. Arielle's not back yet either. I can't help it if I notice beautiful women!”

“Crazy Jack is a no-show as well,” Jericho commented, “but maybe he went home. He was actin' kinda whacked-out this morning.”

Rosa bounded into the room, her eyes bright and her face full of excitement. “I know who the thief is!” she announced.

Almost everybody gathered around her. “Who is it?” they clamored, all speaking at once.

“Crazy Jack?”

“Ram?”

“Eddie?”

He glared at them from the back.

“Arielle?”

“Oh, be for real,” Rosa said with a shake of her head.

“Rudy?”

“Weird Osrick?”

“No!” she said, bouncing up and down in anticipation. “It's not a student at all!” She paused for effect.

“Tell us!” they screamed.

“It's Miss Pringle!”

“Shut up!”

“That's crazy!”

“How do you know?” Luis asked.

“I work for Mrs. Sherman, you know, so I waited after I was checked. A little while later Officer Hammler took Miss Pringle back to the office, and I followed them.”

“You mean
Miss Pringle
, our
teacher
, is the thief?” Jericho asked, incredulous.

“Yep. Hers were the only hands that turned blue.”

“A teacher?” Roscoe echoed. “That's messed up!”

“How did they catch her?” asked Eric.

“Well, I listened on the little intercom that connects to Mrs. Sherman's office, and I heard everything!” Rosa seemed to bask in being the center of attention.

“Officer Hammler put some secret spy powder on some money and an iPod yesterday and hid it in Arielle's purse!”

“Arielle was in on it? No way!”

“No wonder she's not here.”

“You know how Miss Pringle changes her clothes in the girls' locker room every day so she can go running on the track?”

“Yeah, I saw her yesterday,” said November.

“Wasn't she supposed to be one of the locker room guardians?” Olivia asked. “They assigned certain teachers to look out for the thief.”

“Well, that's really convenient,” Dana commented wryly. “What a perfect setup.”

Rosa could hardly wait to continue. “So Miss Pringle jacks the stuff out of Arielle's purse, goes on her run, and has no idea she's been caught!”

“You'd think she woulda washed her hands or taken a shower since yesterday,” Cleveland mused.

“The stuff stays on for three days,” Rosa said with newfound authority. “And if you rub it, it goes deeper into your skin.”

“Wow.”

“Remember when Mrs. Sherman got her wallet lifted in the cafeteria?” November asked the group. “Who supposedly found the wallet in the trash?”

“Miss Pringle!” Dana said, remembering.

“Nobody ever put two and two together!” Olivia smacked her head.

“They found the iPod and the money in her purse,” Rosa announced. “And the rest of the stolen goods, I think, are locked in that storeroom.” She pointed behind Osrick's desk.

“For real?” Roscoe ran to the door to check the knob, but it would not turn. “No wonder she kept that door tightened up all the time.”

“You mean my Game Boy might be in there?” Paula asked.

“It's possible,” said Rosa. “When Miss Pringle admitted to everything and told where she'd stashed the stuff, that's when Mrs. Sherman said she was forced to call the cops.”

“Deep. A kleptomaniac!” Jericho said in amazement.

“Spoon would give you ten points for that word,” Roscoe joked.

Rosa brought the conversation back to herself. “So I decided now was a good time to slip out of the office and tell people what I knew.”

“Who else have you told?” Osrick asked from the back of the room. The whole class turned to look at him. His face was red with anger.

Rosa tossed her dark curls. “I told my two best friends,
Jennifer and Cecelia, and three other kids I didn't know, and then I came up here. Why?”

“That was private information, and not for you to tell,” Osrick said furiously.

“Forget that! Juicy news like this has got to be told! How do you think reporters make a living?” She turned away from him as if she'd flicked away an insect.

“The woman deserved respect,” Osrick insisted, “and privacy.”

“She didn't respect
our
stuff!” said Luis, defending his girlfriend.

“And it looks like the cops aren't giving her much respect either,” Cleveland reported, looking out the window. Kofi watched as well.

With hands cuffed and head bowed, Miss Pringle was being escorted out of the building by two uniformed police officers as the stunned students watched in silence.

THURSDAY, MARCH 10

THEN THE HUSH THAT FILLED THE ROOM
was shattered. The fire alarm reverberated once again.
Clang-clong! Clang-clong! Clang-clong!

“Not again!” Cleveland cried out in frustration. “I'm 'bout SICK of these alarms!”

“For real, now,” Roscoe agreed.

Everyone in the room grumbled, moving away from the window to find their coats.

Jericho sighed. “Let's get Eric, dudes, and get on out of here.”

“Hey, now they need to spread that blue stuff on the fire alarm, to get that crazy alarm ringer out of here,” November said thoughtfully.

Kofi put both his hands to his head. The constant headache pounded, his stomach churned, and his shoulders itched. Everything seemed to throb like a purple cloud around him. And that clanging, clanging, clanging of the fire alarm wouldn't stop.

In the next moment, everything changed.

Kofi inhaled and almost forgot to breathe out. The classroom seemed to be suspended in time. Like a stop-motion movie scene, he stood by that window observing every detail, every person, every event separately, and at the same time.

The classroom windows—dull, yellowed, and streaked.

The stacks of chemistry books on the floor—covers curled at the edges.

The computers—humming and glowing with fuzzy printed text.

A wastebasket—overflowing with paper and chip wrappers and dirty tissues.

The sharp smell of orange peels and spilled chocolate milk—more trash.

Desks—scuffed, scratched, and bent, never quite balanced on all four legs.

The late winter sun—dull gold, trapped outside the locked windows.

The painted concrete floor—criss-crossed with the shadows of dusty footprints.

The periodic table of the elements—creased, ripped, and memorized.

A whiteboard—smeared with notes from colored markers.

Posters of several long-dead scientists on the wall—looking serious and cold.

Jericho—his face mirroring confidence, confusion, then disbelief.

Eric—intense, but helpless, his hand clutching the controller of his chair.

Rosa—screaming and screaming.

Luis—reaching out to pull her close to him, her screams turning to whimpers.

Olivia—her round face full of shock. She does not move.

November—frantically searching with her eyes.

Roscoe—silent for once. Hands trembling.

Cleveland—big and powerful, but unsure. Fear covers his face.

Brandon—pale, red-faced, one hand in his pocket.

Dana—his Dana—crawling on the floor.

Paula—stunned and silent.

Osrick—huddled almost unseen in the back.

Eddie—looking almost amused.

And Jack—red-eyed and crazed—standing at the door. Pointing an AK-47 assault rifle directly at them all.

“Everybody sit down!” Jack yelled. They sat. Dana stayed on the floor, curled into a ball. Rosa had curled herself into the arms of Luis.

This is unreal!
Kofi thought.
Stuff like this only happens on the news.

“What's up with this, Jack?” Jericho said, his voice steady.

“Shut up!” Jack screamed. He pointed the gun directly at Jericho. November gasped.

The fire alarm continued to ring shrilly in the background, a crazy accompaniment to Jack's appearance.
Clang-clong! Clang-clong! Clang-clong!

“I will no longer be ignored!” Jack cried out. “It's time to
listen
to what I have to say!”

“We're here to listen, man,” Jericho continued, looking
Jack in the eye, his voice quiet, soothing. “Just spit it out. We're here for you, Jack.” He took one step away from Eric, whom he'd been shielding with his body, toward Jack.

Don't try to be a hero, Jericho!
Kofi screamed in his head.

“Don't move!” Jack growled.

Jericho froze.

Jack looked around the room, taking in the scene, aiming the gun erratically—first at Roscoe, then Rosa, who cringed, and finally at Dana.

Kofi inhaled deeply.
Not my Dana. No way!

Jack's eyes blinked rapidly. “Where's Pringle?” he asked.

“She's not coming back,” Jericho explained.

“Why not?”

“She got arrested,” said Eric quietly, using the same tones Jericho had.

“I don't get it.” Jack looked confused.

“She was the thief.”

“And see, they tried to blame
me
!” Jack raged. “Made me feel like dirt—checking my hands for poison.” He rubbed his left hand on his jeans. His right hand held the rifle securely.

“They checked all of us, Jack,” Jericho reminded him. “All of us.” Somehow he seemed to have become the spokesperson for the class.

“That blue light!” Jack said. “They tried to burn me with the blue light!”

“The light is gone now, man,” Jericho said softly.

Jack pointed the gun at Jericho once more. “Hey! Don't try to handle me, dude! I'm not crazy!”

Jericho put up a hand to show he was backing off.

“I know they call me Crazy Jack. But I'm NOT!” he screamed.

“You cool, Jack. Real cool.” Kofi was amazed at how calm Jericho seemed to be.

“Blue poison. Blue light,” Jack mumbled over and over. “Blue poison. Blue light.”

Kofi glanced out the window. The school had emptied, and students and teachers stood in small groups, waiting for the all-clear bell. The police car that held Miss Pringle in the backseat had not yet left the driveway.

He also saw Mrs. Sherman with a clipboard, looking up in the direction of their room. She looked angry. She must have figured out that their class had not left the building.

I bet she thinks we ditched the fire drill because we don't have a teacher up here,
Kofi reasoned. He wondered if there was a way to signal her.
If I can just jiggle these blinds a little…

Jack brandished the rifle at Dana again. Kofi tensed, ready to spring forward to protect her.

“Get up!” Jack yelled at Dana. “Get off the floor.”

Dana held her shoulders square, and her face was a mix of anger and fear. She started to ease into her desk chair, but Jack said, “No! Go stand over there.” He pointed the gun toward the back wall.

She glided to the farthest corner of the back wall, whispering, “Stay cool, Jack. Stay cool.”

Jack ignored her. To the rest of the class he said, “All
of you! Line up on that back wall. Everybody! Move it!” He waved the gun wildly, and kids scrambled to where he indicated. Kofi noticed that Jack's finger was on the trigger.

Jericho slowly navigated a path through the desk chairs and wheeled Eric to the back with the others. A couple of kids burst into tears, but everyone else was silent. Even Eddie got up and moved without comment. The fire alarm had stopped its clanging. All was silent.

I have to do something quick!
Kofi thought. He continued to pull on the frayed cord of the window covering, hoping to give the people below some kind of indication they were in the room.
If only Sherman would get mad enough to march up here. We'd have help.

He pulled the cord again. Nothing happened. He tugged harder. The shades had not been adjusted in months, and the sun had rotted the small wooden pegs that held the blinds in place. He gave one more yank on the cord, and with a
whoosh
, the entire window-shade assembly—shades, blinds, and cords—came thundering to the floor.

Jack pivoted to face Kofi, and as his irritation turned to rage, he pulled the trigger. The noise was overpowering, numbing, terrifying.

Throp-throp! Brat-brat-brat-brat! Thwuk-thwuk-thwuk! Rada-rada-rada-rada-rada! Rhacka-rhacka-rhacka! Throp-throp-throp!
As the glass in the far window shattered, it sprinkled the screaming students with tiny diamonds of razor-sharp shards.