It Wasn't Me

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It Wasn't Me Page 13

by Dana Alison Levy


  I glance over at her, but she’s looking straight ahead. Neither of us says anything about my dad, about all the travel he did, about how he used to call home every morning and night, no matter what the time difference was, then he’d only call at night, and then he’d miss a few nights because “his schedule was so nuts.” He disappeared from our lives so slowly I’d barely noticed, but maybe my mom had.

  “Yeah, I know,” I say, and we’re both quiet as I let my breath fog up the window.

  In a surreal turn of events, I’m actually excited to get to school in the morning. Partly to check the photos, sure, but also—and I kind of hate to admit it—to see everyone. But the excitement’s also fighting gross, pit-of-the-stomach-churning nausea, worse than it’s been since the first day. I know we’re going to have our Justice Circle, and I don’t know if I want to hear about whoever actually ruined my stuff. As we drive, I run through it in my mind. The options are depressing.

  Molly: I know she’s obsessed about not messing up, that her brother died recently, and that she’s a serious sugar addict. Given that she would rather eat a bug than have a teacher tell her she did something wrong, I seriously cannot imagine her going all OG on the student gallery.

  Andre: I know he’s got a secret famous personality as a YouTube sensation death metal drummer, but at school he’s practically invisible. He still swears he wasn’t even around when it happened. I know that kind of sucks if he was there or not.

  Erik: I don’t know. He was the obvious choice, but the more I get to know him, the less I can figure it. I know he’s actually as intense about sports as is humanly possible, but not in the trash-everything-else kind of way his friends are. Then there’s the fact he seems to have a thing for Alice. He’s also so…nice. Normally when I say that, it’s kind of an insult (see also: boring, not funny), but not this time. Erik’s nice is just…you know. Nice. Not at ALL like his butt-munch teammates. He also has dyslexia and has to work really hard in school, which I guess he does, because he’s not in special ed classes or anything, even though it must suck to have words and letters dance around and be hard to read.

  Jax: I know he’s funnier than anyone else and likes to make people laugh, but now I’ve noticed he pulls back from anything nasty or harsh. You can almost see him weighing his next dig and holding off from the mean ones. He’s also kind of stressed out….Not sure why, but sometimes when he’s not smiling, he looks seriously miserable.

  Alice: MVP of the Justice Circle, in my opinion. The special effects makeup, the general weirdness, the fact she is totally nice to everyone…it’s refreshing, in a strange way. Also, whichever of her parents drives that gold Lexus is seriously a piece of work.

  Even though, thanks to Lewiston and her Justice Circle, I know way more about them, I still have no idea who would have ruined my photographs. In fact, I have even less of an idea than before. Before, I was pretty sure Erik did it because he and his jockstrap friends find that sort of thing amusing. Or possibly Jax, just to be a turd. I even thought it was possible that Alice did it to be destructive and gothy and weird. But now? Now I actually can’t imagine any of them messing with my stuff.

  And the fact that clearly one of them did makes me literally feel sick.

  “Theo? You okay?” my mom says, and I startle.

  We’re in front of the school already.

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry. Not enough coffee yet,” I say, and she rolls her eyes.

  “It’s mostly decaf, you know that,” she says, looking at my travel mug.

  “Whatever. It’s the placebo effect. Or something.” But I pause before getting out of the car.

  “I just…The more I get to know these guys, the weirder it seems that one of them trashed my stuff,” I say finally.

  My mom looks at me, her face soft.

  “I thought this Justice Circle would prove that someone was, I don’t know, an evil villain. Like out of Scooby-Doo, saying, ‘I would have gotten away with it, if it weren’t for those meddling kids.’ But everyone seems cool. They all…” I swallow. “They all act like they like me.” This is so literally pathetic that I cringe a little.

  Mom bites her lip, and I’d bet my coffee she’s trying not to cry. She’s an easy cry, even on a good day. But she sounds normal. “You know, love, there are so many reasons things happen, both intentional and unintentional, that we can’t possibly expect. Keep an open mind, okay? I think…” She clears her throat. “They probably do like you. Because you’re awesome.”

  Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes, which I do while opening the door. “Please. You’re an adult. You, like, legally have to say that.”

  “I do not,” she says, lowering the window as I shut the door. “There are plenty of kids I think are little trolls and probably aren’t particularly well liked. You happen not to be one of them.” She blows me a kiss.

  I wave. “Thanks, I guess,” I say. “And maybe you shouldn’t say that to the kids at your library—”

  “Oh, quiet,” she says. “I’m always nice, even to the little trolls! That’s what grown-ups do!” And with that wisdom, she’s gone.

  As I head toward the door, I nearly step on a phone lying on the pavement. I can’t help feeling a little bit smug. The only advantage of being one of the rare kids in middle school without a smartphone is that I don’t have to worry about losing a six-hundred-dollar toy the size of a candy bar. When I bend down to grab it, the thing lights up with around ten texts in a row, the background screen a photo of a basketball whooshing into a net. Erik’s phone, I have to assume. And apparently, he dropped it in the middle of a group chat.

  Of course I read it, because I’m nosy like that.

  I wish I hadn’t.

  DreamTeam4EVA

  Kev: You loving school a little too much

  Shaun: Truth

  Kev: Remember your teammates come first right? States this year bro.

  Jude: What’s even your issue? All you got to do is shut up

  Shaun: Coach thinks your wack, btw. He’s pissed.

  Jude: But we love you man

  Jude: Where are you?

  Jude: Yo you ghosting? WTH?

  Kev: Think about it. Kids a puke anyway so who cares

  Kev: Weeks almost over. No proof means it all goes away

  * * *

  —

  Oh.

  So that’s that. It should be my moment of vindication, because—YAY ME!—I was right all along. Erik and his trash chunk friends had it out for me. So that’s a relief, right? Because it means my instincts are totally on.

  I don’t feel relieved. At all. Actually, I feel like I might throw up. I breathe deep, head between my knees, until it passes.

  There. I’m fine.

  I think back to our conversation outside the gym and have an immediate desire to scrub my brain with bleach so that all the laughing and dude-punches are obliterated. Obviously, I was wrong—hilariously wrong—to imagine Erik was having fun, was actually a decent human being. Which is fine. I was expecting that, wasn’t I?

  I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek and blink.

  Force myself to think about summer vacation, about switching schools, about getting out of here and never ever looking back.

  When I’m sure I can breathe without doing anything pathetic or stupid, I make my feet move toward room 201. As I walk, I relax my jaw and shoulders, try to smooth out my eyebrows. Try to seem normal.

  They don’t need to know anything. Because truth? Why would I care that Erik is exactly what he’s always seemed to be: a total jockstrap? I don’t care. And even the rest of them…Maybe they knew the truth all along, maybe not. Hard to believe they’re all clueless about what went down. They can stay in this stupid Justice Circle or get suspended or rat him out if they’re feeling brave. They’re not my friends, and they’
re not my problem.

  I drop the phone in the hallway, not particularly caring whether the screen shatters. Erik can retrace his steps and find it. Or not. Add that to the list of things that aren’t my problem.

  As my feet move down the hall, I repeat a mantra in my head along with the rhythm of my footsteps: Don’t care don’t care don’t care don’t care…

  But the nauseated, sweaty feeling cramping my stomach tells me otherwise.

  Still, when I get to the door, I pause, make my face and shoulders relax, and do everything I can to look normal walking in. I force myself to think about the pinhole cameras. This seventeen-hour exposure is something I’ve never tried before, and my mind keeps up a lively game of Ping-Pong: Side One: Think about the photos, Theo. These are going to be the best photos you’ve ever taken. Side Two: The photos will be garbage and everyone in there is garbage and the best thing to do is walk away. I try not to keep score.

  But when I go in, I don’t remember to make my face look casual and calm.

  Because everyone looks gutted. I stand in the doorway, waiting for someone to tell me what’s going on. But instead, no one looks at me and everyone falls silent.

  “What?” I say finally. “What happened?”

  It’s Alice, brave, weird Alice, who finally turns and walks over to me. Vaguely I notice she has what looks like rope burn around her neck.

  “The cameras. They’re…well.” She gestures around the room. The closet door is shut and the cameras are nowhere to be seen.

  “They’re gone. Only the candle one is still there, and someone moved it.”

  I look around. She’s right. There’s no sign of the careful setups we did yesterday, no sign of the quote or even the Matchbox car.

  “Theo,” Ms. Lewiston starts saying, but I put my hand up to stop her. She steps forward and puts a hand on my shoulder. I want to shrug it off, want to run out of the room, but my body has gone into lockdown mode. This makes no sense. There must be a reason…right? Did Erik come back in and ruin them? But why? Everyone was really into it, weren’t they? Or were they faking it? Was this whole thing a big joke?

  I find my legs. “I gotta go. Bathroom,” I mumble, and turn and move toward the door.

  “Theo, wait! Let’s get into our circle and talk—” Ms. Lewiston starts, but I’m gone.

  And I don’t plan on coming back.

  Date: Feb. 21

  Name: Molly Claremont

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

  Poor Theo. Someone messed with his photos again. Although this time I’d say whoever it was messed with all of us, because we all worked on this.

  What have you thought about since?

  I can’t help wondering WHO? I mean, we’ve been hanging out all week, and everyone actually has been pretty nice, and, you know, normal. But someone was faking it. Someone’s even better at faking it than I am, because I totally believed them.

  What about this has been hardest for you?

  I guess I wasn’t expecting to care so much.

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

  We NEED to get to the bottom of this. It’s not just about Theo anymore. It’s about all of us.

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

  It makes no sense. I mean, there is NO WAY that the people who vandalized the gallery were able to get in and do this to the cameras. It just doesn’t make sense.

  Name: Andre Hall

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

  Someone messed up Theo’s stuff AGAIN. I was actually pretty excited to see how the photos were going to turn out, so I have to say, it feels like whoever did it is messing with me now too.

  What have you thought about since?

  I guess I thought we were friends, but it’s probably good to be reminded that we’re not before school starts back up again.

  What about this has been hardest for you?

  Just another day being Andre.

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

  I wish we could figure this out so that the rest of us could move on.

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

  Makes you wonder if there’s any point to this at all, doesn’t it?

  Name: Erik Estrale

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

  This is dirty play…a total foul if I ever saw one. Who does this to their own teammate? And this Justice Circle is kind of like a team. I really don’t get how this happened. How could they even

  What have you thought about since?

  I’m mad. Like, really mad. I shouldn’t say this, but I’m tempted to invite someone out for a little one-on-one, you know?

  What about this has been hardest for you?

  We all worked on these cameras! This isn’t just Theo. This is about me, and all of us.

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

  We’re going to need to catch the perps, and then I recommend suicides and wind sprints for an HOUR. See how they feel about that.

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

  I need to

  Something hap

  Can I talk to you in private?

  Name: Alice Shu

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

  I was the first into the classroom today, because my dad dropped me off a half hour early. I was excited to see the photographs, but I wasn’t going to touch the cameras, because I wasn’t sure exactly how Theo planned to finish the shots. But when I got there they were gone. I was horrified, honestly. I also wondered if whoever did it was lurking in the classroom, so I immediately checked the closet and under the teacher’s desk. (No one was hiding.)

  What have you thought about since?

  I guess there’s no way to really know someone, even if you think you do.

  What about this has been hardest for you?

  Mostly I’m sad for Theo, but I’m also sorry that we probably won’t all be friends anymore.

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

  Well, it wasn’t me. Probably we need some kind of entrapment scheme to see if we can figure out who did it. Like, Theo should stay late, and when he’s all alone and hanging up some photographs, we’ll hide and see who comes along to sabotage them.

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

  I’ve been thinking a lot about horror movies and how there are usually false clues to lead you away from the killer, who then uses the opportunity to do something even worse. I’m scared for Theo. Although maybe it’s because I watched a super-terrifying Korean horror movie last night.

  Name: Jax Fletcher

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

  This is INSANE. Who the heck would mess with Theo again? Here? Now? It makes no sense.

  What have you thought about since?

  Honestly, I’m side-eyeing everyone here, wondering what’s up. Because I thought we were all cool. But obviously I was wrong.

  What about this has been hardest for you?

  I just wanted to get out of here. Looked like we were on track for a hot minute, but now that’s done. We’re here all week.

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

  I have NO idea. Who’d trash his stuff again??

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

  I’m NOT saying I did anything, because I didn’t. But I’m curious—what’s going to happen when yo
u find out who it was?

  I stay in the bathroom for at least thirty minutes. Luckily, I’m alone at first, because I can’t help it: I let loose with snort-roar-cry noises like some kind of beast. I even punch the paper towel roll, which makes my hand sting like it’s been swarmed by fire ants and also knocks the thing loose from the wall, so the paper towels roll everywhere.

  I look at the mess and sigh. By the time I’m done picking them up and rerolling them, I’m calmer. But the SnortRoarCry beast is resting, not gone. My chest is tight, and I’m sweaty and so, so angry.

  Then comes the parade.

  Erik shows up first, which is just perfect. There is literally no one else on this earth I want to see less right now. He says he’s there to bring me back to the circle, talking all about pulling together and handling it like a team, but I refuse to even look at him. Part of me wants to scream at him and tell him that I’ll be letting Lewiston and Davis know that his adorable little teammates are all but outing him on his phone, but I can’t even make myself care. Maybe Lewiston will figure it out on her own, but she’s not hearing it from me.

  He keeps babbling. After I ignore him for ten minutes, he leaves. Then Jax comes in, and he’s a little harder to deal with. First of all, he squats down and peers at me from under the stall door.

  “Dude, you aren’t, like, making use of your time in there or anything, right? ’Cause that would be seriously awkward for both of us.”

 

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