Sleight

by Tom Twitchel

  Not even looking back at me he walked down the hall, waving his hand at me to follow him. “You’ve been excused.”

  Let’s be honest, with what I’d gone through the night before I was not overly worried about getting into trouble at school. I’d actually spent the minutes before I’d finally fallen asleep toying with the totally impractical idea of packing up and moving to another city. Thinking about Maddy, Mr. Goodturn, Constance and Justine snuffed out that childish fantasy pretty fast.

  Mr. Conroy breezed up to the admin office entrance and held the door for me. He led me to Principal Black’s private office and normal student-in-trouble concern switched on. What was this going to be about? It only took a second for my mind to go to the computer work that Sawyer had authored. I’d trusted him to set up Baffle. Why had he agreed to do it when he’d been planning to betray all of us? It occurred to me that he might have run a double move on me. All of the email and programming business that had implicated Baffle may have been ultimately laid back in my lap.

  The office of Principal Black was suspiciously ornate. Mr. Conroy’s office, which I’d spent a lot of time in, was gray plastic, gray carpet and black furniture. Boring.

  The office we’d just walked into was big, and carpeted in a light shade of brown. A large window facing the parking lot stretched the length of the wall behind a large heavy desk. As opposed to the plastic and metal number that was in Mr. Conroy’s office, the desk was made of dark polished wood. The top was covered by a thick piece of glass and a modern lamp made of gray metal sat to one side. Both walls to the right and left were covered with built in cabinets made of wood that matched the desk, the upper three shelves were full of books. There was an upholstered bench pushed against the wall that the door was set in and four matching chairs faced the desk. An empty, high-backed chair sat behind the desk, presiding over our entrance.

  Principal Black wasn’t present and I wondered why we were in her office at all.

  “Have a seat Benny,” he said, indicating one of the chairs facing the desk. I sat down.

  “Principal Black will be here in a minute, but I wanted to let you in on why we’re here,” he said, a small frown on his face.

  I didn’t respond. He knew Baffle might have been behind the gym fiasco. I’d saved Mr. Conroy’s life. He knew my history. Some of it. What was going on?

  “Sampson’s in big trouble. He’s been suspended and is likely to be expelled. I’m hoping you’re not behind it,” he said. It didn’t sound like a question.

  I held my tongue.

  He sat down in a chair next to me.

  “I’ve been doing some research,” he said. He traced a finger across the glass surface of the desk.

  Maintaining eye contact I kept my silence.

  “I want to be there for you Benny. Principal Black has to deal with this issue concerning Baffle. It’s very serious. I don’t want it to splash back on you. She seems conflicted about how to proceed. There’s a theory, actually inferred by Sampson, that you might be behind his troubles. But that doesn’t seem like you, and the details of what he may have been into are criminal. It’s more than a slap on the wrist kind of thing.”

  “All Baffle’s stuff is his fault not mine,” I said. Not entirely true, and I chafed at keeping secrets from Mr. Conroy.

  The door behind me opened and I watched as Miss Black, our too-young principal, walked into the room. She had to be one of the youngest in her position in the county. She always wore clothes that made her look like she had walked off a magazine cover, conservative but expensive. Her jet black hair was cut short in some kind of businesswoman bob, and it was so shiny and perfectly styled that it looked like she had just come from a beauty salon. Navy suit jacket, short navy dress (but not too short) and a white shirt that practically glowed in its freshly pressed grandeur made her slender and petite frame impressive.

  But my experience with her, and her reputation at school, painted her as a pompous self-important manipulator. I couldn’t guess at how difficult it was for Mr. Conroy to report to her. The prevailing theory in school was that she was using her current post as a springboard into something else. Last month when I’d prevented Baffle and his band of idiots from blowing up the gym she and the mayor had tried to pressure me into face time with TV crews and local news stations, as her prop. Mr. Conroy had helped prevent that. Miss Black had been borderline polite but extremely frustrated at missing an opportunity to get on camera with a hero who attended her school.

  Favoring me with an overly glossy lipstick-smile she said, “Benjamin! It is so good to have you back.” Her face dimpled making her look even younger. Without taking her eyes off me she said, “Frank, thank you for setting this up.”

  Mr. Conroy nodded.

  Shucking out of her jacket, and placing it on the back of her chair, Miss Black seated herself and faced both of us. I picked up irritation and some building emotion which seemed to be directed at me.

  “Alright, well I’d like to move through this quickly. Benjamin, the question we have for you is about items showing up in Sampson’s locker that belong to you.”

  My heart sank. This was the one piece of my plan where I had hung something on Baffle that he hadn’t actually done. I’d justified it as a way to tie his having a vendetta against Trey, his girlfriend and me to him. I’d hoped that it would make any attempt to mess with us in the future more difficult for him. Now I regretted it.

  “Yes ma’am?”

  Opening a brown folder she ran a perfectly manicured nail down a page. “Did you place any items that belong to you in Sampson’s locker? A Calculus textbook, an I-pod, a pair of headphones and a novel...’To Kill A Mockingbird’?”

  I had stashed all of those items in Baffle’s locker. Now I was going to do something else that I was going to regret. I didn’t want to lie but it came down to whether or not I was going to follow through on removing a psychopathic nut job from the school. Baffle’s threats to hurt people close to me would continue to be a concern until he was locked away somewhere.

  “No ma’am.”

  Closing the folder, she pushed it aside and folded her hands, resting them on her desk and gave me another practiced smile, with the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

  “Mr. Conroy, do you have anything you’d like to add?” She asked, turning a syrupy sweet look in the direction of Mr. Conroy who was looking surprised and confused.

  “Um, no. I guess not,” he said.

  I started to sweat a little about possibly being set up for an ambush. Miss Black smiled at me again.

  She held up a finger. “I’d rather just close this whole business and move on. Sampson seems to have created his own problems, but I have something you could help me with Benjamin. Would you be willing to assist me?”

  Now it started to make sense. Implied threat. Removal of same. Favor. I was afraid of where this was headed. I nodded hesitantly.

  “Good, good. I’ll walk you to your class.” She stood up and grabbed her jacket.

  Mr. Conroy stood up, glancing at me and then Miss Black. He frowned.

  “Frank, you and I can talk about the other details later. Alright Benjamin let’s get you to class,” she said as she put on her jacket and headed for the door.

  Despite the fact that my being drawn into Baffle’s crap had been diffused I felt like I’d just made a deal with the devil. I got up and tried to avoid the worried look Mr. Conroy had on his face as he opened the door for us. Principal Black put a hand on my shoulder as we left the admin office and headed toward my homeroom class.

  “So Benjamin, this thing I’d like your assistance on, it involves accompanying me to a meeting on Thursday,” she said, eyes facing front, moving confidently down the hall. Her bearing was almost regal.

  “Yes ma’am,” I said.

  “The County Superintendent of Schools and I are collaborating with all of the other administrators in the county to promote a new bill designed to ensure school security.”


  I nodded. I totally knew what was coming.

  We arrived in front of the door to Mrs. Sayles classroom. Turning to me she flashed another ready-for-primetime smile.

  “There is an awards ceremony as well. It would mean a great deal to me if you would attend. As my guest,” she said.

  It didn’t seem like I had any real choice. “Sure.”

  “Excellent!” she patted my shoulder and turned away. “I’ll have my assistant get you the details.”

  My mind started racing, thinking of ways to minimize any photography or video of me getting out into the media. The whole reason she wanted me to go with her was because the gym debacle had been national news. My involvement had been noted but there hadn’t been any pictures of me. Because of that the story had kind of died down. That and the fact that no one had died. My fear was that Dennis, my abusive parental unit, might come across coverage of me which would trigger my being dragged back to San Diego and delivered into his custody. On the last day we’d spent ‘quality’ time together he’d broken bones in my face and shattered my leg.

  No way was I going back there.

  FORTY-NINE: THE WRONG TRAIN

  I WAS DISTRACTED during my classes. By the time the lunch bell rang I was starving, and I paid for an extra taco when I went through the line.

  Looking for Justine and not seeing her right off I headed to my spot and started wolfing my food.

  “Hey.”

  I looked up from the taco carnage on my plate. A girl I didn’t know, was seated across the table staring at me. Long blond hair framed an olive skinned face, with wide full lips drawn into a sour pout. Her hazel-colored eyes were large and had an almond shape that made them look even bigger. She wasn’t what I would call pretty, but she had an odd, exotic look about her.

  The hackles on my neck stood up. I couldn’t read her. Which by itself was unusual enough, but something about her appearance was setting off alarms in my head. She was wearing a form-fitting dark green sweatshirt, with the hood pushed back, her long hair almost entirely hiding it.

  “Yeah?” I asked.

  Reaching under the table with one hand she brought it back up, holding a folded piece of paper. She laid it on the table and slid it over to me without saying a word.

  “What?” I asked, looking down at the paper.

  Rolling her eyes she fluttered her eyelashes theatrically and lifted the corner of her mouth in a sneer. “It’s a map. You’ll need it. Tonight. Midnight.”

  She swung her legs off the bench and started to get up. A pattern of silver tattoos peeked out of her sweatshirt collar, like silver vines crawling up her neck.

  “Who are you and why do I want this and what happens at midnight?” I asked, irritated and curious. I’d never seen her before and although there were over four thousand students at Roosevelt, it was a little unusual to see someone you hadn’t run into at least once or twice. She was so unusual looking there was no way I would have forgotten her if I had.

  Placing her hands on the table she leaned over it, the sleeves of the sweatshirt riding up a little, revealing more of the lacelike tattoos on her forearms.

  She looked around the cafeteria, obviously scanning for the Caf monitor.

  “Look, Sawyer said to get this to Preston. This was the safest way to do it.” She turned to leave, but I blocked her with my knack influence. Frowning, and squinting one eye at me she paused.

  Goosebumps broke out on my arms. I knew who this girl was, or what she was. She was one of the fliers that had helped Sawyer escape. Leaning toward her I whispered, “You think it’s safe sneaking into my school?”

  She snorted in disgust. “Please. The security here is beyond stupid, it was easy to blend in.” I had to agree, she looked about the right age. “And there’s no way I’m going anywhere near that pawnshop again.”

  “Why would I do anything for Sawyer? That jerk betrayed us,” I said.

  Lunging across the table, her face inches from mine she hissed, “You are so lucky none of us died last night. Do what you want. He thought he owed you and Preston. Me? I. Don’t. Care.”

  The Caf monitor had noticed our heated exchange and was heading toward us. The blond girl moved quickly in the other direction. She made it to an exit just as the teacher got to my table.

  “Everything okay here?” he asked, looking at the door the blond had just walked through.

  “Yeah. It’s all good,” I said, picking up the paper and putting it on my tray.

  The teacher nodded absentmindedly and started walking in the direction she had taken. He was so focused on running after the girl that he almost collided with Justine and her friends. Looking at the teacher’s back Justine frowned. Setting her tray on the table, she sat down next to me.

  “Is that more Baffle drama?” she asked, as Kayla, Russ and a few of her other friends took seats around us.

  “No,” I said. “But there’s some stuff I need to talk to you about.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “In private,” I said quietly.

  Kayla overheard it anyway and shook her head. Justine and I scooted our trays a few feet from the group, while they all made faces and rolled their eyes.

  “What is it?” she asked, placing a hand on my leg.

  I couldn’t get used to the new touchy-feely Justine. I knew I was going to have to do something about it and thinking of Maddy’s impending arrival also brought on a pang of guilt of another kind.

  Shaking off the distraction, I quickly gave her a rundown of what had happened the night before and then related the short conversation I’d had with the blond. I had to give Justine credit. She didn’t even bat an eye. She was adapting to all of the new information better than Danton had.

  “Is that the map?” she asked, looking at the folded paper on my tray.

  I nodded, unfolding it. It was hand drawn, showing an area of downtown that I’d become very familiar with lately. There was a hand-drawn dotted line that indicated a street or alley, with a red circle drawn around it that didn’t ring a bell. Then I realized what it was. My face must have registered my concern.

  “What? What is it Benny?” Justine asked.

  “It looks like it leads to something in Underground Seattle.”

  “Scary. Like in the touristy section or somewhere sketchy?”

  “Sketchy,” I said. The underground area circled on the map was far from any tourist destination on the underground tour.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “Show this to Mr. Goodturn.”

  “And?”

  “And whatever. He’ll know what to do,” I said.

  “I want to go,” She said, lips pursed, looking serious.

  Immediate regret at sharing the map with her washed over me. “No way. If anything happened to you your parents would go bat crap crazy.”

  She squeezed my leg, digging in her fingernails. “You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do.” Her eyes flashed and I felt my heart skip a beat. “And neither do my parents. I’m staying at Kayla’s for the rest of the week. My mother is out of control.”

  “Kayla’s? How did you get your parents to agree to that?” I said, not willing to let it go. Her grip loosened and the circulation in my leg tingled.

  Her cheeks flushed. “I told my parents that if they kept pressuring me that I’d leave. Kayla’s is a compromise. At least that’s what I told them. Look, if this is going to be my new life, all this magic, I’m going.” Then she made a sly smile. “But I’m glad you’re worried about me.”

  “I might not even go. She said to give it to Kenwoode.”

  All she did was smile. I shook my head and we dropped the subject. We slid our trays back to the group and finished lunch. When we were getting up to leave, Kayla sidled up to me.

  “I’m watching you,” she whispered.

  “Yeah? For what?” I asked.

  “To make sure you don’t drag Justine into any more trouble.”

  She walked away befo
re I could respond, her blue highlighted black hair swinging from side to side. Her friendship with Justine was genuine and her non-stop mother-hen attitude of all things Justine was just her showing it.

  We both wanted to protect Justine, but Justine needed to be the conductor on that train. And she needed to be willing to avoid trouble.

  Too late for that.

  FIFTY: FIELD TRIP

  SCHOOL LET OUT without any other run-ins and I was relieved. I’d turned down the offer of a ride from Justine under the pretense that I had things I needed to do. True, but that wasn’t my only reason for passing up the ride. Although I understood her emotional need to be involved the fact was that she didn’t understand half of what we were into. How did I know that? Because neither did I. If she’d really been responsible for Dell and Tank we couldn’t afford to put her in a high stress situation. It would be too unpredictable and dangerous.

  For everyone.

  I just needed to figure out how to prevent her from tagging along without making her mad.

  My decision to ask Mr. Goodturn’s advice was ironclad no matter how confused I was about what he’d done in the past. Over a month ago I’d been struggling with how to protect Baffle and prevent the bombing of the gym. Because I’d been too afraid of Mr. G interfering I’d gone ahead and handled it myself. The result of that boneheaded decision was getting myself kidnapped, Mr. G’s being attacked, Oso the goodhearted gangster dying and poor Breno being scared out of his mind.

  I was distracted with a headful of that when my phone vibrated. Maddy had been texting frequently, counting down the hours to her arrival, and I was becoming more and more nervous about the impending collision between her and Justine. So I pulled the phone out of my pocket a little reluctantly. The text was from Maddy saying ‘hi’. I shot off a quick response telling her I was looking forward to seeing her. Then she texted that she had some big news to share. The way things had been going I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear any more big revelations. Images from her social pages stuttered through my mind. The boy that was in a lot of them, many with his arm around her, featured in some morose thoughts that I tried to quash. I stuffed the phone back in my pocket and stared out the window.