Snitch (4 page)

“How do you know?” Wes asked.

“Pretty proud of knowing all the gossip, aren’t you
?
” I teased. “Pretty soon you’re going to be as bad as half the girls around here.”

Johnny stopped tossing his pencil and grew about as serious as I’d ever seen him. “I got pulled into the principal’s office. Didn’t you?”

We shook our heads.

“Well, your time’s coming. They asked me about Seth’s little
gesture
.” Johnny winked. “I told them I didn’t see
nothing
.”

“
Nobody
saw anything,” I added. “This is stupid. Obviously somebody told. The sub never saw it, so somebody in the class told.”

“Well, all I know is I got hauled in at the end of first period
,
and that’s what they kept asking about. You guys have got to be next.”

Almost on cue Mrs. Mathews called me over and gave me my yellow office slip.

Johnny-boy smiled. “Too bad you didn’t have your glasses that day!”

“Right,” I said. I took my time trudging to the office and waited in an old green chair. I used the time to get my story straight and when I had that together, I kept myself busy studying the lady who was sitting behind the desk. She was so ancient and
crusty,
I bet she came with the school. They probably ordered one counter, one clock, and one crusty, old lady. I wondered if she went home at night or just slept in the closet behind her desk with all her forms and pencils. I hoped I wouldn’t grow up to be like her.

“Mr.
Oppenhauser
? Mr. Perkins will see you now,” she said, looking over her glasses without really seeing me.
“His office is the first door on the right.”

Mr. Perkins probably came with the school too
,
because he is about a hundred years old with thick glasses and a balding head. He wears out
-
of
-
date suits from the eighties and even drives an old
, yellow
Beetle Volkswagen. He matches everything in his office.
Old.
Dusty and old.

“Sit down
,
Mr.
Oppenhauser
,” he said, checking
some notes on a clipboard and scratching
something on them
with a pen
. “I hear you were mischief-making yesterday.”

I almost laughed. Okay, I was nervous, but seriously?
Mischief-
making
?
Did anyone say, “
m
ischief-making”
nowadays
? I put my hand over my mouth to wipe away
a
smile
that danced dangerously across my lips
.

“Cat got your tongue?” Mr. Perkins barely look
ed
at me.
His pen scratched away at the paper.

I felt my smile grow. Was he kidding? First
“
mischief-making
”
and now
“c
at got your tongue
”
? Was this guy that clueless?

Mr. Perkins suddenly locked his gray eyes on me and leaned forward.

“You think
this is
funny?” He threw the clipboard on his desk. It clunked into a pencil holder
and the pen rolled onto the floor
, but Mr. Perkins didn’t even flinch. Okay, maybe he wasn’t as clueless as I thought.
“
You and your little friends think
it’s
okay to abuse a guest teacher at my school? I think not.”

He took a
ragged
breath
and stood up. Slamming both palms on his desk,
he leaned into them
and glared
down
at
me.
“
I’ve had enough of this!
I am going to ask you some questions
,
which you
will
answer honestly for me. Keep in
mind
,
I
am
going to talk to many students from your classroom, as well as your parents. I
am
going to get to the bottom of this.”

Mr. Perkins was old, skinny, and weak looking, but he was starting to
creep
me out. His eyes were strong and intense. And he was
way
beyond
mad
.

The worst part was
,
he was going to call my parents.

I swallowed an
d stammered out a, “Yes, sir,” and
began to concentrate on getting my story right.

“I already know many of you were not in your assigned seats. Is that true?”

I gulped and thought for a moment. I wasn’t going to rat on the others, but I knew I was a terrible liar. “I know I was in my correct seat,
S
ir. I didn’t really pay that much attention to the others.”

Mr. Perkins stood up straight which gave me a little more breathing room.
“So you are telling me you didn’t change seats or lie about who you were to the substitute?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t do those things.”

I met Mr. Perkins angry eyes with confidence because what I said was true. At least
,
that part of it.

“Did you make an inappropriate gesture at any time in the classroom?” Mr. Perkins leaned toward me. He never blinked even once.

“No, sir.”

“Did you see who did?”

Mr. Perkin’s cold grey eyes bored into me
. All
I could do was shake my head. I really meant to say “No, sir,” but the words wouldn’t come out. This was crazy. I shook my head one more time for emphasis.

I guess he believed me because he paused and then said, “I see.” He
grabbed another pen and wrote
something on a slip of paper and handed it back to me. “I see you’re in National Honor Society. Something like this could cause you to lose your standing
.
” He studied me over his glasses. “You are planning on college
,
aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you might want to think about that. Colleges look at more than just grades.” He marked something else on his clip board
and sat down in his cracked leather chair
. “Go to class.”

I took my pass and got as far as his door.

“
Oppenhauser
?” he said, “I’m ashamed of you boys. I hope you know that.”

I turned and left his office. For a skinny old guy, Mr. Perkins could be pretty scary.

***

Home that night wasn’t much better. I was in my room trying to figure out how to plot slope when Dad poked his head in my room.

“Supper is in ten minutes. After we eat, I want you to meet me in the den for a little talk.”

Great.
I hadn’t heard those words in a long time. When I was seven
,
“Meet in the den for a little talk” meant a spanking. When I was twelve
,
it
meant
I lost all my game and computer privileges. Now that I’m almost sixteen...well, who knew what it would mean? I gave up trying to figure out slope. I was too busy trying to figure out what our “little talk” would mean.

Supper was a disaster. Mom
served
tilapia
, which I hate, and n
o one
except my little sister had anything to say.
The
whole meal was
punctuated with
awkward silence or the sounds of me trying to force down fish without
gakking
. Mom spent her time
looking at me with disappointed cow eyes and
sigh
ing
a lot, Dad
wore his serious
I-mean-business
face
, and my annoying little sister
blissfully
prattled on and on about nothing. S
he’s amazing. S
ometimes I imagine her as having nothing but a
big
mouth on that freckled face of hers.

But tonight I must admit I was almost relieved for her endless stories. They created a great diversion for what I knew everyone
else
was thinking about: Mr. Perkins had called home because of my behavior.
Every time I thought of that, it was even harder to
swallow my food.

Finally Dad pushed himself away from the table.

“Sarah,” he said to my sister who was still describing her friend’s new shoes in detail
s
only Sarah could care about, “I hate to interrupt, but I want you to help your mother with the dishes. Andrew, I’ll be waiting for you in the den.”

Sarah stopped her monologue in mid-word to look at me wide-eyed and open-mouthed. As soon as Mom and Dad left, she whispered, “
Awwwww
,
y
ou’re in trouble.”

Then she smiled.

***

I lowered myself into the chair acro
ss from Dad who sat at his desk sizing me up and
shaking his head.

“I never expected something like this at your age,” he said, looking past me, his eyes filled with disappointment. “Geez, Andrew, you’re in ninth grade now. This is something I’d expect when you were in junior high maybe but not ninth grade.”

Now it was my turn to look away. I felt horrible.

“It wasn’t just me, Dad
,
”
I explained. “It was everybody…
and things
just
kinda
’
—got
carried away.”

“And you got carried away with them. How many times have we told you, from now on everything you do counts to a college. This is something that could get you kicked out of NHS. Is an hour of stupidity worth all the work you put into getting into it? Did you ever think about that?”

I could only shake my head. I wasn’t going to tell him that was about
all
I had been thinking of ever since Mr. Perkins had mentioned it.

Dad faced me, his eyes boring through
me.

“C’mon, Andrew.
Your whole life we’ve taught you that you’re responsible for your own actions. Deciding on whether to follow the crowd or not is one of those actions.”

“I know.”

“I’m not going to give you the
If everybody jumped off the bridge, would you
?
speech because I think you know the answer, but unfortunately at your age it’s not a bridge I’m worried about. The things some of your friends might want you to get involved in today are going to be much bigger than bridges. It might be alcohol or drugs. It might be lifting something from a store.”

Dad looked away again, only this time it wasn’t disappointment I saw in his eyes
.
I
t was fear.

“I don’t drink, Dad. I’ve never jacked anything from a store, and I’m not going to start doing drugs.”

“Andy, no one grows up wanting to do things that will ruin their lives or make them end up in jail. Sometimes it just happens.” He looked at me hard. “And it happens when you least expect it.”

I rolled my eyes without trying to. I wasn’t stupid; I wasn’t going to go out and do something that would land me in jail. I knew kids who drank. I had even tossed a few beers with the boys, but getting drunk and
making a fool of
myself
wasn’t something I wanted to do. I knew where to buy some weed or even pills if I wanted. The point was I didn’t want to. It was my conscious decision and I was sticking to it.

Dad shot out of his chair and slammed both of his hands on the desk.
“Do you think now is really a good time to roll your eyes?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…” The door opened and Mom
, still wiping her damp hands on her jeans,
saved me by walking in
.

“I left Sarah to dry the pots and pans. I want to be here for this.”

Great.
Now Mom was going to grill me.

“Andrew was just explaining why he was rolling his eyes at me.”

Mom sighed
again
and shook her head. She put one hand on her hip and the other on Dad’s shoulder.
She slowly lowered him back into his chair, before cocking
her head and rais
ing
one eyebrow at me like I had some big time explaining to do, and no matter what I said
, it
wasn’t going to be good enough.

“You act like because I had a little fun with the sub
,
I’m going to go out and rob a store to buy drugs! I hate that. It’s crazy! I’m not like that!”