by John Grisham
after the tests were finished, a group of East Middle School eighth-grade teachers gathered at the school, got the tests, met behind a locked door, and began erasing wrong answers and replacing them with the correct ones. I don’t know the names of all the teachers—there were five or six—but one was a Mr. London and one was a Ms. Kovak.
I’m sure that if you examined these tests, you would find a large number of erasures, more than the usual.
This should be investigated immediately. If not, I plan to send a copy of this letter to the Strattenburg Daily News.
Sincerely,
Anonymous
Theo read it twice, calmly refolded it, and said, “Nice letter. Now, what are you going to do with it?”
“It’s done. I mailed it yesterday and sent a copy of it to Mr. Robert McNile, the attorney for the school board. Found him on the website.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m dead serious.”
“What about fingerprints?”
“I used gloves. Saw it once on television.”
“Did you lick the stamp?”
“No.”
“Did you lick the envelope?”
“No. Thought of that, too.”
“Where did you mail it?”
“The post office on Main Street.”
“There are about a dozen surveillance cameras there.”
“And they video a thousand people a day.”
“They can trace ink back to your printer.”
“Don’t be so sure about that, but I’m not worried. Why would they ever suspect me? There are seventy-five thousand people in this city.”
Theo took a deep breath and looked away. She was still smiling, as if to say, “Aren’t I clever?”
He said, “April, you can’t accuse people of doing bad things if there’s no proof. This was not a good idea. I wish you had discussed it with me.”
“I was going to but you avoided me yesterday.”
“You could have waited until today.”
“I didn’t want to wait. Something needs to be done, and it was pretty clear to me that you didn’t want to get involved. Right?”
“Right. I did not want to get involved, and you should have left it alone.”
The smile vanished and was replaced by a frown. “Look, Theo, what if this letter makes them look into the matter? They start digging and they find something. They find the cheating.”
“Then what? They throw out the tests, and we have to do it all over again?”
“I don’t know. I can’t answer that. I guess they’ll figure it out when they get there.”
Theo took a couple of bites and tried to organize his thoughts. He said, “No one else knows about this, right?”
“Only you. I wouldn’t dare tell anyone. Why are you so worried, Theo? Dr. Stoop and the lawyer will probably just ignore it anyway, but what if they take it seriously? You have to agree that this needs to at least be investigated. And if they dig into it and find nothing that’ll be the end. But if the cheating really happened, and they discover it, then the letter was a good idea. Right?”
“I guess. I just don’t like the idea of accusing people without all the facts.”
“You’re such a lawyer, Theo.”
“Okay, I’m the lawyer, and you’re the client. My advice to you is to bury this and not tell a soul. Never. Got it?”
“Got it. Stop worrying.”
Theo slid the letter across the table. She said, “No, that’s your copy.”
“I don’t want it.”
Chapter 12
Two days later, Theo bounded down the stairs with Judge at his heels and found his mother in the kitchen. She was decked out in a lovely maroon dress with matching heels, and Theo knew immediately that she was headed to court. She saved her finest attire for court and often complained that the female lawyers were expected to look sharp there while the men often looked like slobs. Theo didn’t see it that way. He spent a lot of time in courtrooms and was of the opinion that all lawyers dressed up a bit when they were appearing before judges and juries.
“I have to be in court at nine, Theo,” she said. “All day, and I’ll probably be late for dinner.”
“Sure, Mom. What’s up?”
“A divorce trial. You might want to take a look at the morning paper.” Theo was pouring Cheerios into two bowls, in equal amounts. Judge often examined his bowl before he attacked it, just to make sure he received the same amount as Theo.
She pecked him on the cheek and said, “I’m off. Do you have lunch money?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And your homework is done.”
“All done, Mom.”
“Have a great day, Teddy, and remember to keep smiling.”
“You got it.”
“Don’t forget to lock up.”
“Sure, Mom.”
After she closed the door, Theo sat down for breakfast. He slid the newspaper over and looked at the front page. The headline read: “Questions Arise Over Testing.” He forgot about his cereal and began reading. Citing an anonymous source, the reporter wrote that city school officials were looking into rumors that some of the test scores from the East Middle School eighth grade may have been tampered with. The reporter repeated what was already known, that the eighth-grade students there had shown a remarkable improvement from the year before, so much so that some suspicions had been aroused. What was even more suspicious was the fact that the folks who ran the schools were not talking. There was another photo of Dr. Carmen Stoop, and the reporter wrote that his efforts to speak with the superintendent had been denied. The school board attorney, Mr. Robert McNile, did not return his phone calls. The reporter tried to talk to several people but no one was willing. His unnamed source was saying that Dr. Stoop and Mr. McNile had received an anonymous tip that came in the form of an unsigned letter, and that this letter was stirring up questions about the scores being “altered.”
The story had an aggressive tone to it and left no doubt that the journalist was not going away.
“Wow,” Theo mumbled to himself as his appetite vanished. He read the story again and managed to choke down a couple of bites, then he hurriedly rinsed both bowls, forgot to brush his teeth, and said good-bye to Judge. The dog was not happy because he was being left at home. Usually, he rode to the office with Mrs. Boone, but occasionally he was forced to spend the day alone. This upset him. Theo spoke to him and promised to pick him up after school.
After second period, Theo sneaked into the library, opened his laptop, and checked the local news. There was an update. At nine that morning, Dr. Stoop had issued a statement in which she said the school board had hired “independent investigators” to look into the “rumors” regarding cheating at East Middle School.
The investigation was moving faster than the news about it. Dr. Stoop and her staff had, in fact, been suspicious not long after they had first seen the test scores. The improvements at East were almost too good to be true. However, they had accepted the scores, even said nice things about them, and really hoped there was nothing sinister behind them. Perhaps the scores were accurate and life would peacefully go on.
But the anonymous letter had floored them. The fact that whoever wrote it had been bold enough to name names—Mr. London and Ms. Kovak—forced Dr. Stoop to start asking questions. The attorney, Mr. McNile, advised her to immediately hire investigators from outside the school system and get to the bottom of it. Then somebody—they would never know who—leaked the story to the newspaper reporter, and the scandal was in the process of blowing up.
The investigators spent hours reviewing the tests. Their conclusion was obvious and simple: Yes, there were far more erasures on the eighth-grade tests than would appear to be normal. For example, in a typical two-hour exam on history, with fifty questions, the average test-taker would make five changes. He or she would erase the bubble for either A, B, C, D, or E, and fill in another bubble for the second, and correct choice, with a
standard lead pencil. But for some of the eighth-grade exams at East, there were up to fifteen erasures. Late Thursday afternoon, the investigators met with Dr. Stoop and her staff and delivered the bad news. She told them to press on with all due speed. The reporter was calling and things could get out of control.
On Friday, as Theo was hiding in the library and scanning the Internet for news, the principal at East asked Ms. Emily Kovak to please step into his office. Waiting for her were the two investigators. They were pleasant and courteous and said they just had a few routine questions. She was immediately terrified.
The first investigator asked, “Did you return to the school on the Saturday after the testing was finished?”
“Well, I’m not sure if I remember.”
“It was only three weeks ago. Do you often come to the school on Saturdays?”
“Occasionally.” She shot a frightened look at the principal, who was glaring at her as if she’d been caught stealing some kid’s lunch money.
“Then try real hard to remember if you came here on that Saturday.”
“I seem to recall that I did. Yes, the day after the tests were over.”
“And what was the purpose of your return?”
“I needed to pick up some homework to grade.”
“I see. But the students had no homework that week, right? There’s no homework during the standardized tests, am I correct?”
He looked at the principal who said, “That’s correct.”
Ms. Novak’s shoulders sagged a bit, and she looked confused. She said, “It was some old homework that I had forgotten to grade. Where is this going?”
“Were there other teachers here that Saturday?”
“I don’t recall seeing anyone,” she said nervously.
“Was Mr. London here?”
She looked away, trying to appear as if she couldn’t remember.
“Did you meet Mr. London and some other teachers here that Saturday?”
She couldn’t recall. As the interview went on, she was able to remember less and less. The investigator never mentioned the possibility of changing test scores; that would come later. After half an hour, the principal asked her to stay in the room with him for a few minutes. The two investigators left and walked into the office next door where Mr. London was waiting nervously. The same questions were asked, the same denials offered. He, too, had a bad memory. But he was also rattled and did a lot of stuttering.
It was obvious to the investigators that the teachers, if they had in fact worked together and changed test scores, had formed a tight circle, and no one was willing to talk. But a school is a school, and word spread rapidly. By lunchtime, there were little groups of teachers in every hallway, whispering fearfully as the rumors roared through East Middle School.
Meanwhile, during lunch Theo found April in the cafeteria and sat next to her. They couldn’t talk because other kids were close by, so they went for a walk on the playground. She had checked online and knew of the investigation. “I guess you’re getting what you wanted,” Theo said.
“Looks like it.”
“You seem worried.”
“Did I do the right thing, Theo? Please tell me I did.”
“I don’t know. If the investigation reveals a cheating scandal and the bad guys get punished, then you can say you did the right thing. If there’s no scandal, then nothing bad happens to anyone, and your letter was harmless.”
“So what’s bothering you?”
“I don’t know. It’s just that I’m uneasy about why you did it. In some way it seems selfish. You felt cheated because you didn’t make Honors, so you kind of stirred things up almost in revenge.”
“I’m not selfish, Theo. That hurts my feelings.”
“I’m sorry, but you asked.”
“And it wasn’t revenge. That sounds strange coming from you, a person who claims to always believe in justice. Let’s say those teachers did what they did, and they’re wrong, and because of their wrongdoing some students—yes, me and you and others—are being treated unfairly. Don’t you think they should be exposed and punished?”
“Yes. And I’m not saying you are wrong, April. I’m just not sure what I think right now.”
“I need you to be my friend, Theo.”
“I’m always your friend. And besides, no one will ever know what you did, right?”
“Right.”
Chapter 13
Much to April’s delight, Janelle called Saturday morning and asked if she wanted to go to the movies. They could watch a matinee and have a pizza afterward. April’s father, Tom Finnemore, happened to be at home, which was rare, and was also in a good mood, which was even rarer. He said okay and gave her the money. The girls walked a few blocks to the cinema, watched a romantic comedy with Amy Poehler, and afterward walked to Santo’s, a popular place claiming to serve “World-Famous Sicilian Pizza” near Stratten College.
April felt like the luckiest person in town. She was hanging out with an eighteen-year-old high school senior, a hip cool girl who would soon be leaving home and going away to college.
Over pizza, Janelle talked about her sister Binky and the storm brewing at East Middle School. Binky was worried about her friend and colleague, a teacher named Geneva Hull, one of the five teachers who may have cheated. Geneva was supposedly full of regrets for taking part in the scam and was worried sick about getting caught. The school had been “crawling” with investigators and reporters, and everyone was nervous. Even Binky and the teachers who were not involved were anxious. If the scandal blew up, the entire school would get a huge black eye. East had enough problems to begin with. This would probably seriously damage it and might even lead to its closing.
April suddenly had a knot in her stomach. A huge one. How much of this turmoil could be blamed on her? She had no idea, but she felt guilty about something.
Janelle knew that April was close friends with Theo, and that Theo’s mother was a respected lawyer. Binky was wondering if Mrs. Boone might agree to a meeting with Geneva Hull.
Things were now really getting weird, April thought to herself. She nibbled on a slice of pizza but had no appetite. It was all very confusing: Theo, an eighth grader himself, had missed making the Honors track by one point, just like April, and now his mother might become the lawyer for one of the teachers who cheated and thus could be responsible for Theo not making the cut. April explained that she had no idea if Mrs. Boone would have any interest in taking such a case. It would be up to Geneva Hull to call her and inquire.
At that point, April was involved more deeply than she wanted to be. She wished she’d never heard of Binky or Geneva Hull or Mr. London or Ms. Novak. Why should she, of all people, now know the names of three of the five teachers? She wished she’d never sent the unsigned letter. She should have listened to Theo.
The Sunday edition of the Strattenburg News was, as always, two inches thick, with at least half of the bulk taken up by classified ads. This really irritated Mr. Boone, and he grumbled about the waste of good paper every Sunday morning. Mrs. Boone didn’t help matters by egging things on with her usual, “I can’t believe all of these classified ads.” She would wink at Theo as she said this, then they would listen to Mr. Boone start complaining. The games adults played.
Theo rarely read the morning paper, but these days he was captivated by the news. Sure enough, the front page headline read: “Investigation Continues into East Middle School Test Scores.” The same journalist, a guy who was obviously on a mission, reported that the private investigators hired by the school board were working around the clock to finish their work. They had interviewed many of the eighth-grade teachers—there were twenty-two in all—and claimed to be making “significant progress.” However, several of the teachers were refusing to cooperate. Dr. Stoop was saying all the right things about her office’s desire to pursue a thorough examination and so on. If wrongdoing was discovered, she promised to deal with it quickly and openly. There would be no secrets.
Theo read this and asked his father, “Dad, could these teachers get into serious trouble?”
Neither of his parents did criminal work. Mr. Boone was a real estate and business lawyer and rarely went to court. Mrs. Boone was a family lawyer who handled a lot of divorces. Occasionally one of her cases dragged her into contact with the police, like the Holland mess and the charges against Pete’s father, but for the most part she avoided criminal law.
But since both were lawyers, they never failed to comment on anything related to the law. Mrs. Boone jumped in with, “Of course not. This is a school matter, and the teachers will be disciplined by the school board.”
And since they rarely agreed on anything related to the law, Mr. Boone said, “I’m not so sure. If it’s true, and these teachers were acting together, I can see them being charged with conspiracy. I’m not saying that’s the right thing to do, but prosecutors love a good conspiracy and they often overreact.”
“That’s ridiculous, Woods,” Mrs. Boone said. “These people aren’t criminals. Maybe what they did was wrong, but they didn’t break any laws.”
“I didn’t say they were criminals, but this could be a gray area. A lot of folks get burned in the gray areas.”
Mrs. Boone shook her head but said nothing. Mr. Boone was right.
Theo asked, “What, exactly, is a conspiracy?”
Mr. Boone thought for a second and said, “It’s when two or more people work together to do something unlawful or illegal. Nowadays, it’s used by prosecutors to cover all sorts of bad behavior. I have a friend who’s a criminal lawyer, and he says that conspiracy is often used when there’s no clear crime involved. Would you agree, Marcella?”
“Perhaps,” she said.
Theo was thinking about April and her unsigned letter. If it in some way led to teachers being arrested and charged with crimes, April would never forgive herself. He knew she was reading everything in the newspaper and online, and she was probably worried sick.
Theo said, “I’m not feeling too well. I think I have an upset stomach.”
Mr. Boone said, “What a surprise. It’s Sunday morning, time to get ready for church, and you don’t feel well. This seems to happen a lot.”
Mrs. Boone said, “You look fine to me.”
“Are we really going to brunch at the Baileys’?”
His mother said, “Why yes, Theo, it’s the second Sunday of the month, and we always have brunch with our friends after church.”
“Your friends, not mine. I’ll be the only kid there, and I’ll be bored out of my mind. I hate these brunches. Boring. All that adult talk. All those geezers grinning at me and asking me about school and trying to be funny, like I’m some cute little puppy who needs to be entertained. It’s just awful.”
His parents looked at each other, looks that meant they had actually heard him. Such looks were rare when discussing Boone family traditions. Their little rituals were important to them, or at least to his parents, and they didn’t like to upset the structure of their lives.
Mrs. Boone finally said, “So what would you do for lunch?”
Something, anything. “I’ll just come home and eat a sandwich. Please, Mom, let me skip it.”
Mr. Boone exaggerated when he said, “Well, the Baileys will be disappointed.”
Who cares about the Baileys? Theo said, “Oh, they’ll get over it. You guys will have a great time with the other adults, and no one will miss me. Please.”
She asked, “Well, what do you think, Woods?”
“I’d like to skip it myself,” he blurted and laughed, though Mrs. Boone did not see the humor. She looked at Theo and said, “Okay, just this once.”
Theo couldn’t believe his luck. “Thanks, Mom!”
“Now run upstairs and get ready for church.”