The Secret to Lying (25 page)

“Principal Durn,” I interrupted. “Please let me stay. I’ll be good.”

“How do you expect us to believe you, given your behavior?” Principal Durn replied. “You’ve had warnings, James, and yet you’ve continued to break academy rules.”

“I was asleep,” I repeated. It sounded lame, even to me. No one spoke for several seconds, waiting for some other explanation, except I didn’t have any other explanation. “I . . . I thought I was dreaming.”

Hassert leaned forward, placing his doughy hands on the table. “You might think we’re being hard on you, James,” he said. “But what we’re doing is for your own good. When young people aren’t given consequences for their actions, they keep pushing the limits to test what they can get away with. I’ve seen it before. This time it might be jumping out a window. Next time overdosing on drugs, or driving a car into a tree.” He shook his head, as if all this was very difficult for him. “Your behavior is getting increasingly reckless because you crave boundaries. I believe we have to expel you, otherwise you won’t take your actions seriously.”

Principal Durn checked his watch and shuffled some papers. “Anyone else have something to add?”

“Automatism,” Chuck said.

Ms. Snodgrass scrunched her face, like she smelled something foul. “Care to clarify?”

“Sleepwalking. If James was asleep when the incident took place, we can hardly hold him accountable.”

“I’m not buying that for a second,” Hassert said.

“I suppose you’re aware that five percent of all young males are sleepwalkers?” Chuck asked, focusing on Hassert. I finally realized why Chuck looked different — his glass eye was in. I couldn’t even tell which one was fake.

“As someone in charge of Residential Life,” he continued, “that’s probably something you should know about. Although it’s not usually violent, there are many cases where people have gotten dressed, left their homes, even driven cars while sleepwalking. I can refer you to the journal articles if you like.”

Hassert frowned. “As interesting as such articles might be, I don’t see what it’s got to do with this.”

“Really?” Chuck asked. “If you did a little research, you’d find that individuals have been acquitted of crimes, including murders, that were committed while sleepwalking. So if courts of law have found that someone can’t be held accountable for actions committed while in a state of automatism, I don’t see how we can be different.” He turned to Ms. Snodgrass. “Legally speaking, that is.”

Chuck’s point suddenly hit me. If I was expelled, I could appeal it based on what he’d said. I wished Dickie was with me, flipping through his rule book.

“This is ridiculous,” Hassert blurted out.

“And what explanation do you have for why someone would jump out a second-story window?” Chuck asked.

“He wants attention,” Hassert said.

Chuck grinned. “Is that your
expert
opinion?”

“Gentlemen,” Principal Durn said, cutting off Hassert’s angry response. He cleared his throat and folded his hands. “What’s your recommendation, Dr. Rainen?”

“Continued academic and disciplinary probation,” Chuck said. “In addition, James will be required to see me on a biweekly basis until it’s determined that he’s psychologically stable and his sleepwalking episodes are appropriately treated.”

Ms. Snodgrass shook her head. “You’d need parental consent, and a signed waiver to cover us for negligence.”

“Mr. Turner and I have already spoken about this,” Chuck replied.

“Mr. Turner?” Principal Durn asked.

My dad cleared his throat. “I agree with Charlie here. I’d like James to get some help.”

Moms shook her head. “He doesn’t need a shrink.”

“James needs counseling,” Chuck said. “And he needs our support.”

“I’m sorry?” Moms replied. “Are you suggesting that I don’t support my son? You’ll excuse me if I’d prefer that my son not talk about his personal life with a total stranger.”

“Hannah,” Dad mumbled.

Moms threw up her hands. “You’ve no idea,” she said to no one in particular. “I’m a good mother.”

Principal Durn cleared his throat. “James, would you mind stepping into the hall for a few minutes?”

My chair screeched as I pushed back from the table. Moms wouldn’t look at me. She searched through her purse for a tissue.

Linda shut the door.

I wandered the balcony that overlooked the central area of the school. The sounds of students talking and laughing below echoed up to me. Classes had ended for the day, so most of the building was empty except in one of the pits — these sunken amphitheaters with orange-carpeted stairs that formed seats — a bunch of students had gathered for Club Pseudo.

The club put on a variety show every Friday night. It was a combination of juggling club, bad drama, cheesy dances, garage bands, and strange eggs who didn’t fit in any other club. Ralph and Jesus John were down there practicing their magic act. Both of them wore top hats and capes. The getup looked especially ridiculous on Ralph since his head was so small that the top hat kept falling over his eyes. And then there were the Buttles — a group of band geeks who wrote new lyrics for Beatles tunes. One was plucking out notes on a cheap synthesizer while three others appeared to be singing a version of “Piggies” involving biology class and dissecting fetal pigs. Behind them, two girls practiced a ribbon dance.

When I’d first come to ASMA, I’d sworn never to be a part of Club Pseudo. It was obviously deep in dork territory. Except now, looking out from the balcony, I liked it. Part of me wished I could be down there with them, although I didn’t have any talents. Maybe I could join the Buttles and make up songs.

If I got kicked out, I’d miss it — not just hanging with Dickie, Heinous, and Cheese, or the pranks, or Ellie (even though she’d probably never talk to me again) — I’d miss Ralph and Club Pseudo. At my old school, if you sang a stupid song and did a ribbon dance, you’d get the shit kicked out of you. Here, people clapped.

This is a good place,
I thought, recalling what Liam had said. It wasn’t just the teachers or the fancy labs that made it good. It was that you could sit in a circle with a bunch of students and juggle bananas, sing, recite poetry, do a dance, whatever. The geeks had courage. They weren’t afraid to be themselves.

Linda stuck her head out a few minutes later and called me back in.

Everyone in the meeting room, including my parents, looked solemn. I promised myself that if I got to stay, I’d go to Club Pseudo and clap my heart out for every act.

“Do you agree to the conditions set by Dr. Rainen?” Principal Durn asked.

It took me a moment to realize he meant Chuck. “Sure.”

“You’ll need to sign a contract. Your parents are going to sign one as well.”

“We’re going out on a limb for you,” Ms. Snodgrass added. “I hope you recognize that.”

“So I’m not getting kicked out or suspended?”

“There are no more suspensions for you,” Principal Durn replied. “If you mess up again, you’re expelled.”

I tried my best to keep from smiling while the administrators gathered their papers.

Dad stood by the doorway, thanking Principal Durn and Ms. Snodgrass. Then he returned to the table and helped Moms stand. Her mascara had smeared, running into her wrinkles and making her face look old and bruised.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” I offered.

“No, no.” Mom’s voice shook a little. She turned her head and wiped her eyes with a tissue. I guess she’d been crying. “I don’t know who you are anymore, James.”

It surprised me how defeated she sounded. Moms had always seemed so monumental to me — like a planet with too much gravity that kept pulling me out of my orbit. Only now, it was as if I’d broken free, and I could finally see her for what she was — a fragile, lost person. “It’s okay,” I said. “I don’t know who I am, either.”

She frowned, then rifled through her purse for a mirror. Moms never liked anyone to see her when her makeup wasn’t right.

Dad broke the silence. “You should get back to class. Keep up with your studies.”

I gave them directions on how to find their way out of the building. Dad led Moms away, keeping his hand around her waist. I watched them go, realizing that maybe she needed him more than he needed her.

Chuck waited for me outside the conference room. “James, can I talk with you?” he asked once my parents had gone. “Just so you know, I don’t think you were sleepwalking.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope.”

“But you convinced them I was.”

“I convinced them it was a possibility,” he corrected. “To be honest, I agree with Mr. Hassert. Unless something happens, you’ll end up dead.” He gave me a long look.

“This is stupid. I really was asleep.”

“That’s my point. You don’t see the danger you’re in.” Chuck put his thick hand on my shoulder. “Listen, James, you want to talk about stupid? I’ve known students who’ve killed themselves because they wanted to annoy their parents, or get back at the guy who dumped them, or impress their friends. They don’t realize how much their lives are worth.”

I tried to meet Chuck’s stare, but I couldn’t.

“That’s the last time I’ll cover for you,” Chuck said. He squeezed my shoulder. “I’ll see you Tuesday at two thirty. If you’re so much as a minute late, you might as well head straight to your dorm and pack your bags. Understand?”

“Yeah,” I replied. Then I remembered that I’d meant to be angry at him for talking with my dad behind my back. “Hey, whatever happened to me making my own decision about coming to see you?”

“You did make a decision,” he said. “You jumped out a window.”

They say the
owl was a baker’s daughter. Lord! we know
what we are, but not what we may be.

—
HAMLET, ACT 4, SCENE 5

I DROPPED BY HEINOUS AND CHEESE’S
room the day after my hearing. I figured that’s where Dickie must be hanging out, since I hadn’t seen him in a while.

Everyone grew quiet when I pushed open the door. Dickie was sitting on a desk, eating chips, while Heinous played a video game.

“Hey,” Dickie said, looking concerned. “How’s it going?”

“I wasn’t kicked out,” I replied.

“That’s great! So you’re not in trouble?”

“Nope,” I said, leaving off the part about having to see Chuck twice a week.

“Wow. That must have been some sweet talking you did.”

Heinous cursed at the video game and chucked the controller aside. “What’s up, J.T.?”

“Not much.”

There was an odd silence as, for once in his life, Heinous seemed unable to come up with anything else to say. I kind of wished he’d tease me — call me Smash or the Defenestrator or something — but he didn’t.

“So did that guy come by our room to fix the window?” Dickie asked.

“Yeah. It’s good as new.”

“Cool.”

“Sorry I laughed,” Heinous said. “You know, when you jumped.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I told him.

“It was just so crazy,” he said. Then he looked at Dickie like he thought he’d said something wrong. “I mean, the whole scene, with the chair, and you not wearing a shirt or anything . . .”

“Really, don’t worry about it,” I repeated, but I could tell that something had shifted between us.