Point of No Return (43 page)

Mr. Laker looked genuinely disappointed. “That's too bad. You'd be a wonderful asset, I'm sure. Why won't you do it?”

“Because…I'm afraid there's a price tag attached to it that I can't afford.”

“A price tag? What kind of price tag?”

She'd practiced the speech a hundred times that morning. None of the words came to mind. “Let's see…does the phrase
bribery
mean anything to you?”

He blinked a couple of times, but kept his face solidly straight. “You thought I bribed someone to get you on the orchestra?”

Karen tugged at her collar. It seemed awfully hot all of a sudden. “Mr. Laker, I don't know how to start. But I saw some things in the Ballistic Printing file that you probably didn't want me to see.”

“Like what?”

“Well…”

“Shall I get the file for you? Maybe that'll help.” He opened the large filing cabinet drawer and pulled out a manila folder. “You have me worried, Karen. You're acting like something is seriously wrong.”

He handed the file to her. She was stunned by his behavior and didn't know what to make of it. Was it some kind of trick? Did he
want
to get in trouble? She opened the file and worked through the various documents. The papers looked similar, but not identical to the ones she'd seen before. In less than a minute she'd reached the bottom. The bids, the letter, and the copy of the check were gone.

“You took them out,” she said.

“Took what out?”

“Those bids—and the letter—and the check.”

“Bids? Letter? Check?”

Karen turned red. “There were bids in here to print our report cards. Two printers were cheaper than Ballistic Printing, but you went with Ballistic anyway. It's against school policy to go with a more expensive printer when you have
two
who are less expensive.”

Mr. Laker chuckled. “I think you must be feverish, Karen. Do you want me to call the school nurse?”

“No, sir.” She took a deep breath to control her quavering voice. “You took a bribe, Mr. Laker. I saw the P.S. on the letter about your socalled gift. And I saw the check. Why would they pay you $2,000 unless it was to keep your business?”

Mr. Laker's cheeks turned pink, then he forced a smile. “You don't know what you're getting into, Karen.”

“I…I want you to admit to what you did and talk to Mr. Felegy. Maybe they won't fire you,” she said, trying to stick to her plan.

“Maybe they'll send me to bed without my supper,” Mr. Laker said laughing. “I don't know what you're talking about. And you can see for yourself that there's no letter or check in the file.”

“They were there and you know it!”

“Don't get hysterical,” he urged.

“You got rid of the evidence! I saw them with my own two eyes!”

“Then you better get your eyes checked.”

Karen's mouth moved, but nothing came out. She could insist over and over, but it wouldn't make any difference without proof.

“Now, can we stop this nonsense, please?” In the main office area, a door slammed. Someone had arrived. “Good morning!” Mrs. Stewart called from the other room. Karen could hear her drop her purse on the desk.

Mr. Laker spoke louder, as if having a new witness was important. “I don't know what your problem is, Karen. I tried to do something nice for you by getting you on the orchestra and this is how you say thanks. I feel sorry for you. You need to see a counselor. Get some help.”

“But…but…”

“There's nothing left to say. You're going to be late for class.”

Karen turned to leave. All the feeling in her mind and body seemed to disappear.

“Karen,” Mr. Laker added in a low voice, “you're in over your head with things you know very little about. I'd keep my lips sealed if I were you. Wild accusations will only come back to hurt
you
. Do you understand?”

Lucy discovered Karen crying in a stall in the bathroom. Recognizing her shoes under the short gray door, she knocked softly. “Karen,” she whispered.

The sniffling from the other side of the door suddenly stopped. “Lucy?”

“Yeah, it's me.”

The door jerked open and Karen threw herself into Lucy's arms. “It was awful!” she said. “Awful!”

“What was?” Lucy held her tight for a moment, then held her away at arm's length. “You have to hurry and tell me—the bell's about to ring.”

Karen dabbed at her eyes with some toilet tissue. “I talked to Mr. Laker.”

“This
morning
? Why didn't you tell me?”

“I wanted to handle it myself—like Jesus did.” Karen walked over to the sink and despaired of her looks. Her eyes were puffy and her nose rubbed raw from the cheap toilet paper.

“What happened?” Lucy asked as she watched Karen get herself cleaned up.

“He cleaned the file out,” Karen said. “In fact, I'm not even sure it was the
same
file we saw. I looked like an idiot.”

Lucy leaned against the sink and folded her arms. “What did you think he'd do, break under the truth and confess everything?”

“Yeah, I guess maybe I did,” Karen said, half-smiling. “But he denied everything and said I was ungrateful and needed to see a counselor and…and it's all true! I must've been crazy. What could I do without any proof?”

“Did you tell him about the copies?”

“Copies?”

“The copies we made,” Lucy said. “Remember?”

Karen pressed her hand to her mouth from shock and embarrassment. “My brains have been so tied up that I forgot all about them! I kept thinking about what Jesus would do. And I didn't think that Jesus would ever need
proof
.”

“Oh, Karen…” Lucy put her head in her hands and shook her head.

“Where are they?” Karen asked, grabbing for this shred of hope.

“I gave them to you,” Lucy said.

“You did?” She thought about it a moment. “No, you didn't. You kept them.”

“Honest, Karen, I don't have them. Check your desk, your notebooks,
everywhere
. You must have hidden them.”

Karen looked panicked again. “But I
didn't
. You made the copies and kept them with you! I'd remember!”

Lucy eyed her skeptically. “How could you remember
that
when you didn't even remember there were copies at all?”

“Don't yell at me,” Karen said. “I'm feeling fragile right now.”

Lucy groaned. “Okay. Maybe I'm wrong. Let's
both
check. One of us hid them somewhere!”

“Hey, look! It's our old buddy Oscar!”

Oscar stopped on the playground and turned to face Joe Devlin and his gang. Out of the corner of his eye, Oscar saw Jack and Matt step through the door into the school building with the rest of the class. Joe and his pals surrounded Oscar like they always did.

“How's it going, Osc?” Joe asked as he poked a finger into Oscar's shoulder. “Did you have fun playing soccer in P.E.?”

Oscar took a deep breath, then merely gazed at him.

“What's the matter, cat got your tongue?” Joe laughed. The gang chortled with him.

Oscar didn't reply. He simply looked at Joe and waited.

Joe eyed him carefully. “What's the matter with you? You got laryngitis? Say something.”

Oscar didn't move, didn't twitch a face muscle, didn't react at all.

Joe pushed him. “I said
say something
.”

Oscar stared at Joe like a little lamb.

“You heard him,” one of the other gang members suddenly said, and shoved him in another direction. “Speak!”

Still no sound from Oscar.

The gang began to taunt him, pushing and jabbing from all sides until he bounced between them like a pinball in a machine. Still, he didn't say a word. When they tired of that little game, Joe grabbed Oscar by the front of his shirt and pulled him close.

“Say something,” he hissed.

Oscar looked into his eyes, but wouldn't obey.

Joe thrust him away. “This is getting on my nerves. I'm tempted to give you a good pounding for being so rude.”

Oscar reached into his pocket and silently held out his lunch money.

Joe slapped the money away. “I don't want your stupid money. I want you to
talk to me
!”

Oscar continued to look at him without a sound.

Clenching his fists, Joe stepped forward as if he might slug Oscar. “That's it!”

Oscar closed his eyes and waited for the blow.

It never came. Joe snarled, then turned and marched away. With a few extra shoves for good measure, Joe's pals brushed past Oscar and followed their leader across the playground toward the school.

Oscar slowly slumped to the ground, tense from fear but happy at the same time. He slowly picked up his lunch money.

At lunch, Jack and Matt weren't as pleased as Oscar about the encounter with Joe.

“He still pushed you around,” Jack complained.

Matt agreed. “The point is his bullying has got to
stop
!”

Oscar swallowed a bite of bologna sandwich. “But I think it
will
stop. Even if it doesn't, I'm still doing what I think Jesus would do and that makes me feel
great
! I got to keep my lunch money, too!”

“I don't care,” Jack said. He and Matt looked at one another.

Matt nodded with understanding. “Okay, this afternoon.”

Oscar peered at Jack, then Matt, then asked, “This afternoon? What about this afternoon?”

“None of your business,” Matt said.

“What are you guys up to?” Oscar asked, instantly worried. “Remember: What would Jesus do?”

Jack leaned toward Oscar and told him, “You just leave it to us.”

Matt also leaned forward and smiled. “Don't forget that Jesus made whips and drove the money changers out of the temple.”

“Did you find the copies?” Karen asked Lucy anxiously when they sat down at lunch.

“No. I guess you didn't either, huh?”

Karen shook her head. “No sign of them. What did we do with them, Lucy?”

“You didn't take them home, did you?”

“I don't remember ever having them! How could I know if I took them home?” Karen asked.

“Well, I know
I
didn't,” Lucy said.

“Maybe Mr. Laker will forget I ever brought it up,” Karen wished. “Without those copies, I'm just an insane kid who makes stupid accusations.”

“Uh-oh,” Lucy said, looking over Karen's shoulder.

Karen turned and saw Mrs. Stewart crossing the cafeteria toward her. A sinking feeling worked through her stomach.

Mrs. Stewart arrived. Her face looked pinched and worried. “Mr. Felegy wants to see you right away,” she said.

Karen shot a parting glance to Lucy and followed Mrs. Stewart out of the cafeteria.

“Thank you for coming so fast,” Mr. Felegy said when Karen arrived at his office and had taken a seat.

Karen nodded. “You're welcome.” She wondered if Mr. Laker had said something to Mr. Felegy about their conversation that morning and tightly clung to the arms of the chair.