It Wasn't Me

by Dana Alison Levy

  Perfect.

  I look at Alice. She looks back at me, blinking. Well, two of her eyes are blinking. She has a third one installed in the middle of her forehead, but that one doesn’t seem to blink.

  She says: “Sorry my dad is so impatient.”

  I nod. “Sorry my mom gave him the finger.”

  She shrugs. Together we walk into the school for day three.

  * * *

  —

  When we get to the room, Ms. Lewiston hands me a cup. “Yesterday was like trying to eat a fine meal with Oliver Twist outside the window, pressing his nose against the glass. Here.”

  I am so absurdly grateful I almost cry for real. The smell of fairies and springtime and magic wafts out of the cup, and I close my eyes and inhale.

  “It’s half-decaf,” she warns.

  I shrug. “That’ll work.” I take another deep breath. “Thank you. Seriously.”

  “You’re seriously welcome,” she says. Then, stepping closer, she asks, “How are you doing? I know this has to be hard on you, but—”

  I interrupt. “It’s fine. I’m glad we’re…you know. Restoring justice and all that. I’m good.”

  She looks like she wants to say more, but I avoid eye contact, staring at the coffee like it might bolt if I don’t stay alert.

  “Do you think everyone else is doing okay?” she asks. “As we talked about yesterday, this incident affects everyone here in different ways.”

  I glance around the room. Molly and Alice are sitting closer together, and Alice seems to be explaining in great detail how she got the eyeball in the middle of her forehead. Andre looks like he’s listening too, and on the other side of the room Jax and Erik have their heads bent over an issue of Sportsballs and Sweaty Things (possibly not the actual title) and are murmuring things like “Curry is the bomb” and “LeBron, though…Beast” and interrupting each other so constantly I doubt they’re even listening. I get a kind of cold, empty feeling.

  “Sure,” I say, and my voice sounds flat, even to me. “I think they’re fine.”

  Before we even get ourselves into our circle, the door opens and Ms. Davis storms in. She’s in her usual work-type suit, but her hair is a hot mess of frizz and she’s not wearing her usual orange-tinted face makeup and dried-blood-colored lipstick. She looks, honestly, like someone who was happily enjoying vacation week but then had to come in to school. You and me both, buttercup.

  She stomps over to Ms. Lewiston.

  “Can we speak privately? NOW?”

  Ms. Lewiston sighs, so quietly we can barely hear it. “Of course,” she says, and the two of them walk out.

  Needless to say, we all remain totally silent, eavesdropping like it’s our job. Not that it’s hard; Davis is not using her inside voice.

  “Were you in the library? Why were you in the library? You realize it’s vacation week and we have limited custodial services, not to mention limited funds for heat and electric?”

  “Yes, Kristina, we were in the library. I discussed it with Ms. Cody—”

  “Ms. Cody is not the principal of the school! I am, at least for now, and I was called—at home!—by Roy Saunders, who wanted to make sure he was authorized to take the extra time to clean in there. I had given him strict orders to stay with a very limited schedule this week! Every penny counts! When I asked him why the library needed to be cleaned, he informed me that you had told him to turn on the lights and the heat. So I came down to ascertain that this wasn’t a mistake, but that you had in fact overridden my orders.”

  Silence.

  Then: “Well?” Davis says.

  Ms. Lewiston’s voice is polite. “I’m sorry, did you ask a question?”

  Jax gives a snort and I hear him whisper, “Oh, snap!”

  “Yes, I asked a question! I asked if you had overridden my orders!” Ms. Davis barks.

  Andre coughs a little. I catch his eye and we both grin, comfortable in the knowledge that there was no question asked. Point for Ms. Lewiston.

  But Davis isn’t done. “And dare I ask if there are any great revelations from this justice plan of yours? Because I’m afraid they will need to spend some time without you this morning. As I’m already here in school, I will ask that you join me in the office. They can sit silently and read until lunch.” Her heels click down the hallway.

  After a second the door opens and Ms. Lewiston comes back in. She smiles, but not like she means it. “Kids, Ms. Davis and I need to work on something this morning. There is another restorative justice story that you can read and discuss. I have copies in my bag. Like yesterday, please use this time for fruitful discussion.” She pauses. “Or Ms. Davis feels you can use this time for silent reading.”

  We all nod. While the six of us might not have much in common, or trust each other, for that matter, I think it’s fair to say we’re 100 percent committed to doing the opposite of whatever Ms. Davis says.

  Date: Feb. 20

  Name: Molly Claremont

  What happened and what were you thinking at the time of the incident?

  I was really distracted that day. I honestly can’t say what I was thinking.

  What have you thought about since?

  It’s been…weird, hanging out with everyone. I mean, Theo’s a nice guy. He’s quiet, but he’s pretty smart, and his photos are good, and nobody dislikes him, I don’t think. So I don’t know why they’d do this.

  What about this has been hardest for you?

  We really need to get some answers. I CANNOT be suspended. Like, this week at school is bad, but I can deal with it. But suspension? No way.

  What do you think needs to be done to make things as right as possible?

  If Theo’s okay, then maybe we should just move on. We can try to make Theo feel better, maybe. But right now I don’t really know.

  Is there anything at all you’d like to share confidentially with Ms. Lewiston?

  If no one confesses at the end of this, will it all be over?

  Name: Andre Hall

  What happened and what were you thinking at the time of the incident?

  Nothing new here…no idea who was even around the gallery, since, as I said, I wasn’t THERE.

  What have you thought about since?

  I guess I wonder why it takes something bad happening for the six of us to talk to each other. Theo’s pretty chill and we have a bunch of classes together, but we’re strangers. Tells you something about us, maybe, but something about school, too.

  What about this has been hardest for you?

  Usually keeping low-key works pretty well for me. But this whole thing, that no one even noticed I was gone (and really, we’re not talking about a giant crowd), that stings.

  What do you think needs to be done to make things as right as possible?

  The more we all hang out and talk, the more I think someone’s not being square with us. Because I don’t see it. What people are showing doesn’t add up to someone messing with Theo. Something’s off. All I know is that it wasn’t me.

  Is there anything at all you’d like to share confidentially with Ms. Lewiston?

  You know, Theo keeps acting really chill and like it’s not bothering him, but let’s have some real talk: it would seriously mess with my head if someone hated on me like someone hated on him.

  Name: Erik Estrale

  What happened and what were you thinking at the time of the incident?

  Honestly, I just…I don’t know what to think.

  What have you thought about since?

  People always blame the jocks, because they think we’re meatheads or idiots or something. But taking athletics seriously means that you have discipline and commitment, and yeah, one or two guys are total jerks, but the rest of us get judged for it. For the record, I would never EVER ruin Theo’s photos. They were really cool.

  What about
this has been hardest for you?

  I really hate that something like sports gets a bad rap because of a few idiots. Most of us aren’t like that.

  What do you think needs to be done to make things as right as possible?

  I don’t know what would help. I really don’t.

  Is there anything at all you’d like to share confidentially with Ms. Lewiston?

  What if someone

  Never mind. Forget it.

  Name: Alice Shu

  What happened and what were you thinking at the time of the incident?

  I don’t have anything new to add. Sorry.

  What have you thought about since?

  Reading that story was really interesting. It makes me think about all the people who tease me and take my stuff. I wonder what else is going on with them? Probably a lot.

  What about this has been hardest for you?

  Nothing, really. I don’t mind being here.

  What do you think needs to be done to make things as right as possible?

  If someone told the truth, do you think they’d be forgiven? Hard to know, really.

  Is there anything at all you’d like to share confidentially with Ms. Lewiston?

  I wonder if anyone would be willing to tell something if they could tell it anonymously. Just wondering.

  Name: Jax Fletcher

  What happened and what were you thinking at the time of the incident?

  I want to help out, but I have nothing to offer.

  What have you thought about since?

  You know, the darkroom thing might have been a mistake. But the gallery? That was some nasty work. And it stinks. Because I seriously don’t know why anyone would want to hurt Theo. He’s a pretty chill guy.

  What about this has been hardest for you?

  Sitting around school all week is BRUTAL. But truth? It’s not that bad hanging out with the other inmates, I mean Justice Club peeps. They’re kind of wack, but in a good way.

  What do you think needs to be done to make things as right as possible?

  No idea. I don’t know that we’re getting any closer to answers.

  Is there anything at all you’d like to share confidentially with Ms. Lewiston?

  I guess…sometimes people do stupid things totally by accident. It does happen.

  Once Davis and Lewiston leave, I wander around, unsure where to go. Finally I slump in a seat and take a huge restorative sip of coffee.

  Erik frowns and shakes his head. “Dude. You know that’s, like, poison to your system. You might get a jolt of energy, but it doesn’t last. You need something like this.” He holds up a half-gallon jug of what looks like nuclear waste. Seriously, it’s almost-glowing.

  “PowerQuest,” he announces proudly. “Replenishes all electrolytes, and includes”—he squints at the label—“acai berry essence. So.”

  I look at Jax, then nod thoughtfully, like this is actual science and not corporate repackaging of toxic waste.

  “Right,” I say, and I try very hard to make sure my voice is saying “You’ve got to be kidding me have you ever even researched corporate sugar-water products?” I’m trying so hard to push out all that snark that it comes out as a gargling cough.

  Jax looks pained. “Dude. Point that crap away from me.”

  “Sorry,” I choke. “Allergies.”

  Erik looks smug. “Because you’re drinking too much coffee and not enough of this! It has acai berries!” He takes a big gulp, and the smell of artificial lemon-scented industrial cleaner comes out of the bottle. I wince.

  In addition to the obvious problem of his toxic-waste habit, Erik is stressing out over something, and it’s making me seriously nervous. He keeps staring at me, and I can’t tell whether it’s a Dude I Want to Tell You Something stare or a Dude I Am Planning to Punch You in the Nuts stare. Needless to say, I’m having a low-grade freak-out. I wouldn’t put it past him to admit to trashing my stuff when there are no teachers around, then threaten all kinds of hideous payback if I spill. This is why we need adults in the room….It’s like having coyotes hang out with a bunch of fluffy bunnies until the zookeepers come back.

  I turn my chair away from him and face the opposite wall. I don’t want to give him the chance to say anything. I don’t want to hear it unless Lewiston is in the room….I’m not counting on anyone here to be a witness if it’s his word against mine.

  To my relief, Erik-with-the-creepy-stare settles down. Once again he has his earphones on, his size-eleven feet propped up on the chair in front of him. Jax has made a pillow out of his hoodie and is napping on his desk.

  * * *

  —

  After around a half hour Jax groans, stretches, knocks his water bottle off the desk, scaring all of us, and groans again. “Holy. Crap,” he mutters, twisting his back and neck and nearly falling out of the chair. “I think I drooled. Dude. That’s just nasty.”

  Molly briefly closes her eyes as though she’s in pain.

  I can’t help it. I catch Andre’s eye again and grin.

  Jax untangles himself from his chair and stands up, stomping his feet.

  “Okay.” STOMP. “I’m awake.” STOMP. “How is everybody?” STOMP STOMP.

  Molly glares icy-cold shards of What Is Wrong with You at him.

  “Foot’s asleep,” he says, grinning. “You know, pins and needles and that?”

  Molly does not look impressed.

  “Now,” Jax continues, ignoring the ice glare, “we’re not going to be spending the next two hours here, amirite? Can we have some agreement on this issue? Yes?”

  Alice looks up, surprised. I’m not going to lie, the third eye takes a little getting used to.

  “Where do you want to go?” she asks, her voice curious. She smiles, and I do a double take. While we were reading, she blacked out one of her teeth.

  “NOWHERE!” Molly says loudly. “Nowhere, because we are NOT getting in more trouble. God! What’s wrong with you?”

  “Listen, you might be queen of the student council, but you have got to chill. Lewiston isn’t coming back until lunch. And I’m not saying we’re going far. I just figure…I got a stash in my locker that would make this whole thing more fun.” Jax waggles his eyebrows, looking a little like that demonic goat god. What’s his name? Pan. He looks like Pan, if Pan wore a flat brim.

  “DRUGS?” Molly’s voice drops, and even Erik and Andre stop what they’re doing and stare.

  Jax lowers his eyebrows and shakes his head in disappointment. “GIRL. You watch way too much TV. Skittles. And those caramel bull’s-eye things. And chocolate-covered cranberries I stole from my dad’s van, but he’s supposed to be on a health kick anyway, so I’m doing him a favor.”

  “What’s in the middle of those caramels?” Alice asks before anyone can respond. “I mean, it’s white, it’s sweet, but what is it? Does anyone know?”

  We’re all silent, pondering the mysteries of life and the sugary deliciousness of those bull’s-eye candies.

  “They’re white magical angel tears, that’s what,” Jax announces with authority, and it’s a sign of how far down the rabbit hole we’ve gone that all five of us nod along thoughtfully.

  Molly, who I’m beginning to realize might have a bit of a thing for sugar, now has the look of someone impaled upon the horns of a massive moral dilemma.

  “Where’s your locker?” she asks finally. Her voice is the voice of regret and bad decisions.

  I get it. On one hand, Jax is packing some seriously good stuff, and once again my lunch veered toward pathetic. On the other…I’m risking a breach in my most basic school rule: Don’t get into anyone else’s business. Stay out of it all—the dramas, the problems, the inside jokes, and the shenanigans.

  This, no matter how I rationalize it, is shenanigans.

  “By the gym. We won’t even go near the fr
ont offices, and that’s where Lewiston and Davis are,” Jax says. He’s finally stopped stomping and waits by the door. “Theo? Alice-girl? Who’s in?”

  I glance at Andre and he gives a tiny shrug.

  “Fine,” Molly snaps, getting up. “But we’re going right to your locker and right back. Deal?”

  Without discussion, Andre, Erik, Alice, and I stand up. Apparently, Molly speaks for all of us, at least on the matter of compromised morals and high-fructose corn syrup. To my relief, Erik walks toward the door with no more threatening attempts at eye contact.

  Jax whoops. “Follow me, yo!” he says, opening the door. “And yo!” he stage-whispers back at us. “Stealth!”

  Alice nods, her eyes wide.

  Before I can reconsider, Jax gives another completely and 100 percent stealth-free whoop and runs down the hall.

  * * *

  —

  We are not stealthy. At ALL.

  If one were to create a chart representing stealth, with Wonder Woman’s invisible jet at one end and the Pride parade in New York City at the other, we would be somewhere off the poster, near an 8.8-or-higher-on-the-Richter-scale earthquake.

  No one seems to be around.

  Jax goes tearing down the hall, occasionally leaping off the wall in a way that reminds me way too much of Otis the cat when he’s lost his mind for no reason and goes careening around the house. The rest of us scuttle behind him, sticking close to the wall like, hilariously, that would make ANY difference when Jax is leading us like a one-man oompah band.