His son starts to talk, but he puts a big hand on his shoulder. “Hush up for a minute, TJ, and let the boy talk.”
“But I didn’t…,” he starts to say; then he sees his father’s expression and stays quiet.
I look at his face, which is now pinched and worried. The last thing I want to do is make him feel bad. Making a five-year-old sob would be quite the grand finale for the epic of misery that I’ve spread far and wide. I sigh.
“Um. Well, yeah. They weren’t that important, but I didn’t know what happened to them. And I—I mean, all of us—we came in and they were gone, or messed up, and we assumed…I mean, we figured someone had done it on purpose.”
Mr. Saunders shakes his head real slow. “Well, that’s too darn bad. And I’m sorry.” He looks down at Teddy John. “What do you say, Li’l Bit? I know you didn’t do it on purpose, and you were helping me out, but it sounds like maybe we threw out something that this boy…you’re Theo, right? Theo with the photographs? Anyway, we might have made a mistake and thrown out something Theo cared about.”
Teddy John gazes up at me. “I’m sorry, Theo,” he says. He straightens his back and puts his hands on his hips, like he’s going to launch into a song.
I blink and step back.
“I ’pologize! I didn’t mean to, but my teacher always says ‘actions matter’ and my action was to throw out your boxes and I’m so sorry and I can help you make a new one or give you my allowance to buy one or—”
I raise my hand, but he just keeps talking.
“Or I can hug you if you’re feeling sad, because I am taking ’sponsibility for my actions,” he finishes proudly.
Mr. Saunders gives him a squeeze. “That’s a nice way to apologize,” he says.
And I nod. Because seriously, that was like an elite-level professional apology. “It’s cool,” I say, and I squat down at eye level. “They weren’t that big a deal. I’m just really glad to know what happened to them.” I hold my hand out, and Teddy John slaps me a high five, hard. Kid’s got serious guns….Erik should start training him up.
“It’s cool,” he echoes, and then pulls his dad’s hand. “Are we almost done? Because MOVIE!! And POPCORN!”
When they leave, I stay standing in the middle of the room like someone planted me there.
Seriously? Mr. Saunders’s kid accidentally threw them out?
I think about Ms. Lewiston’s statement the first day, that intentions and actions are not always the same thing, and that people are fighting battles we can’t see. I’m sure Mr. Saunders didn’t mess up my work the first two times, but he sure proved that I don’t always have a clue what’s going on.
I try to sit down and keep reading, but my mind keeps wandering. Teddy John Saunders. My cameras. Jax’s yoga-ball soccer. Molly’s hands trembling. Alice smiling with a severed finger stuck behind her ear.
Everyone’s fighting an unseen battle.
I close the book.
Before I can think too hard about it, I take off running down the hall toward Davis’s office.
I want to be with them. I want to know what happened. I want to know the truth. Ms. Lewiston will be there, and we can try to actually do this Justice Circle thing. Though with Ms. Davis right there…The very thought of trying to talk with her there makes me want to lie down in traffic. As fast as I start running, I stop.
I pause and run back toward Mr. Saunders. He’s coming out of room 205, whistling away. Teddy John’s bouncing ahead of him.
“Hey, Mr. Saunders,” I start, and I don’t even know what I’m going to tell him until the words come spilling out. I explain, as quickly as possible, what went down: my stuff being ruined, Ms. Lewiston wanting to do this Justice Circle, Ms. Davis saying it’s no use, and the rest of it.
“But here’s the thing,” I say. “I really think there’s a chance that we were getting somewhere. And you know, these last cameras…it wasn’t bullying or vandalism or anything, it was—”
“Teddy,” he finishes. “So.” He fixes me with a stare. “What exactly are you asking?”
I gulp. Fortune favors the bold, as Alice likes to tell us. Usually with a fake scalpel embedded in her forearm. I decide to go for it. “Do you think it’s possible you could be in need of Principal Davis’s time today? For, um…as much of the day as possible?”
Mr. Saunders sighs so big I can smell his mint gum and feel the gust move my hair.
“I’m sorry,” I say, and my cheeks are burning. I shake my hair until it’s mostly in front of my face. “I know you’re busy. That was a stupid thing to ask. Never—”
Mr. Saunders shakes his head, but he starts to smile, then lets out a short laugh. “That’s okay. Kids ask me to do all kinds of things around here, and I mean alllllll kinds of things. They lose their phones and beg me to find ’em before their parents find out. Or don’t study for a test and ask if I can pull the fire alarm for a fire drill. Or tell me they forgot a roast beef sandwich in their locker and can I come clean it out because it smells nasty.” He sighs.
“You’re a good kid, Theo. You didn’t deserve what happened to your photographs. They were beautiful, and brave.”
My cheeks burn at the compliment, and I try to say thank you, but it comes out as a bleat. Awesome.
He goes on. “And Kate Lewiston is a good teacher.” He pauses, then speaks again. “Ms. Davis is a mighty organized person, and she likes to keep a tight rein on every aspect of the school. I’ve been meaning to ask her to give an opinion on our supply closet and our product suppliers. Think we might be able to save some serious money if we were to reorganize and then place larger-size orders. Might be a good day to get her eyes on that project. Seeing as it’s a quiet week and all. Give me two minutes and I’ll see what I can do.”
I exhale and smile, a big stupid chipmunk-face smile. “Thank you. Seriously. Thanks. I mean it. Thank—”
He waves me off. “World’s hard enough, man. We all got to do what we can. Am I right?” Clapping me on the shoulder, Mr. Saunders turns and starts walking away, to where Teddy John’s waiting down the hall.
“Right,” I say to his retreating back. “Right.” I wait two minutes, then sprint down the hall toward Davis’s office.
When I get outside the office, I stop. While it seemed noble to burst in there and demand the truth, I’m now seriously doubting the wisdom of this plan. The hot rush of humiliation is still like a virus, eating away at my guts, and I really don’t want to talk about it. I tried to do the justice thing, and it didn’t work. I still have the choice to just…not. Even worse, the ugly words I shouted yesterday repeat in my head like a bad Justin Bieber song, and I wish more than anything I’d never said them. They were downright cruel, and the memory of everyone’s faces makes me cringe. A gross honest part of me knows that if I’d stayed quiet, I could at least still feel like the victim. Now my words feel like a weapon I’ve thrown right back.
But I keep picturing my mom asking me if I did everything I could, and I gird my loins (or at least clench my butt cheeks) and throw open the door.
I walk toward the small conference room off the main office, and even before I get there, I know that my hapless fellow Justice Circle inmates are there. The door’s half open, and I peer through before opening it the rest of the way. Jax is jiggling both legs while pushing back on the chair so it rests on the rear legs. It looks precarious, and given the white bandage on his head from yesterday’s drama, I can’t help thinking it’s a bad idea. Next to him Andre is staring at the conference table, his hands moving fast but silently on top of it. Drumming, I guess. I try to imagine loud death metal sounds coming from him, but my mind refuses to make the leap. Alice, next to Andre, is disappointingly tame today. There’s a small gash above her eyebrow, but that’s it. Clearly, she’s phoning it in. And Molly and Erik are on either side of Ms. Lewiston, their backs to me, their heads down.
The room is silent.
I want to say something funny, or clever, at least, but nothing comes to mind, except, once again, Ms. Lewiston’s note on that first day. “Be kind…”
Instead of saying something awesome, I fake cough so pathetically that I immediately wish for a “delete” button so I can do it over. Tragically, I attempt to make it better by doing an even worse fake cough, like it was a joke the whole time.
“HEM HEM HEM,” I say, in a sad, Dolores Umbridge sort of way. Maybe they’ll think I’m being ironic.
Alice jumps up. “Theo!” she calls, her voice as bright and singsongy as ever. “Did you come to yell at us some more?”
I say something that sounds like glargeblarglemimblesturtp.
Awesome.
Jax lets his chair fall with a thunk. “Seriously? You came back? You’re the only one who had a free pass out of here. Trust me, this is not where you want to be. Is this some kind of sympathy move? If so, you’re making a heck of a sacrifice. Because Davis was on fire this morning. Though she left a minute ago, which felt like a gift from the gods. Sorry, Ms. Lewiston.”
Ms. Lewiston has turned around in her chair to stare at me, and she waves a hand absently at Jax.
He goes on. “Also, you pack any provisions, if you know what I mean?” He waggles his eyebrows and mouths “Angel tears!”
I swallow and try again. “Nah. I mean, I came to tell you guys something. And to ask you something.” I glance at Ms. Lewiston, whose expression is hard to read. “And also to, you know. Apologize. Because I said some stuff yesterday that I shouldn’t have said, and it wasn’t even true, so that makes it even stupider. So…sorry.” I look at Ms. Lewiston. “I’m really sorry.”
Ms. Lewiston stands up and is over to me in three steps. The woman is around six feet tall, and today she’s wearing big stomping boots that make her look like an Amazon. Ms. Davis better watch out.
“Theo, you don’t need to apologize to me,” she says. “You’ve been a…well, you’ve been a really good participant in this process, no matter what.” She looks around. “I have to say, you are all such good kids. I don’t know…” Her voice trails off. “Well, anyway. What did you want to tell us, Theo?”
“Here, man. Have a seat over here. I’ll move,” Erik says, springing to his feet. He’s wearing jeans and a flannel shirt instead of polyester sports pants and a hoodie, and as he moves by me, I get a whiff of some nasty Axe body spray. I try not to wince. He’s clearly pulling out the big guns for Alice. I hope for his sake she’s able to overlook the scent overload.
“I just want to say,” Molly says, before I can speak, “we were all pretty upset yesterday, and, Theo, whatever, I understand that you’re mad. But what I don’t get is that we wanted to talk about what had happened, but Ms. Davis made us sit in silence! Like, actual silence.” She glares around. “I mean, I thought we were supposed to, you know, process it and stuff.”
Ms. Lewiston sighs. “I’m sorry, Molly. I should have come in to facilitate. I’m really sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
She doesn’t make excuses or say that the reason she bailed was that I was a total jerk to her and she needed to be alone. I remember Teddy John’s apology, his “taking responsibility for his actions,” and decide to speak up.
“I’m sorry too. Part of that was my fault.”
Jax, who had leaned back again, slams his chair down. “Dude, what do you keep apologizing for? That’s messed up. It’s your stuff that got ruined. I mean, someone is straight up playing us, and—”
I cut him off. “No, wait! That’s part of why I wanted to come in. I was alone in room 201 this morning, and Mr. Saunders and his little boy came in. He’s, like, five years old or something, but he’s coming to work with him this week, because his mom’s got extra shifts. Anyway, he was helping Mr. Saunders clean.” As quickly as I can, I explain what happened: how he found the candle, then I asked about the cameras, then he told me he had thrown them out, not realizing.
“And then he apologized, and, I mean, Ms. Lewiston, if you had heard him, you’d have promoted him to the head of the Justice Circle or whatever. He literally offered to help make new ones or give me his allowance or just hug me because he was ‘taking responsibility for his actions.’ It was like…” I clear my throat, which has gotten a little stupid-scratchy. “Well, it was pretty cool.”
I stare down at my hands, because all six of the other people in the room are staring at me, and I’m going kind of walleyed trying to make eye contact with them all. But then I look up.
“So here’s the thing. Ms. Lewiston, you told us the first day that intentions aren’t always the same as actions, and now I find out that Mr. Saunders’s cute little five-year-old who doesn’t even know me destroyed my cameras, and it’s totally fine. I mean, it’s too bad about the shots, but honestly, it’s such a huge freaking relief that it wasn’t any of you.”
I look at each of them in turn. Molly is pink and a little shocked, Alice has her head cocked to one side like a bird or something, Andre’s shaking his head a little, and Erik looks like he might cry. Even Jax is totally still, his whole body tucked tight in the chair.
“Because…” I pause and look at Ms. Lewiston. “I actually thought this week was pretty good. It wasn’t how I wanted to spend my vacation, but I mean, watching Molly freak out over Starbursts”—I grin at her, and to my relief she grins back—“that alone was worth it. Not to mention Alice! No offense to the rest of you, but, Alice, your special effects stuff was literally the highlight of each day. I would start wondering what you’d have going on before I even left my house in the morning.”
Alice gives a pleased-sounding squeak and wriggles a little. “Thank you,” she says, beaming. “If you ever want to star as a tortured artist turned zombie, I could totally work with your hair-and-hat combo. Scene could start with you looking through a big camera, so the lens obscures most of your face, but when you lower it, we see you’ve got strips of flesh peeling down…”
I cough. “Wow.” I glance at Andre, who shrugs, like Bro, you asked for it, you deal with it. Thanks for nothing.
“Anyway, and hearing about Skeleton Curse, and playing yoga-ball soccer in the gym—” I look at Erik, who reaches across to high-five me, then at Ms. Lewiston. “Um. Pretend you didn’t hear that.”
“Hear what?” Ms. Lewiston asks. She has her head down and is rummaging in her bag. “I didn’t hear anything. So sorry.”
I nod. “Yeah. Anyway, I guess all I’m saying is that it was a surprisingly okay week, and I actually assumed I knew everything I needed to know about you guys after seven years of school together. But it turns out I don’t know much. And definitely not the important stuff.” I think about Molly’s brother, and her Lady of Shalott face, and her signing all her permission slips and report cards. “And I should have never said what I said yesterday. Because I don’t even think it’s true. Not anymore.
“And you guys remember what Ms. Lewiston wrote on the board that first day? ‘Be kind, for all of us are fighting unseen battles’? Well, I guess I’m saying I don’t think any of you would trash my work on purpose. I just don’t believe it.” I look at Erik. “And I want you to tell me the truth, no matter what.”
I go silent and look down at the table again. My heart is suddenly pounding, and my pits are sweaty. For the first time the fluorescent lighting and big round table seem like a terrible place for any kind of brave and honest confession. I want dark corners and noise and a place to hide. But there’s nothing but six faces and a silent room.
I don’t know what to say next or where to look. Dimly, in the back of my mind, I realize that this might be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, dumber even than putting those photos up in the first place. Because there was no reason—no reason at all—for me to walk into this room. The drumbeat starts in my head.
Stupid.
Stupid.
Then Molly speaks. “ ‘Speak the truth, even if your voice shakes.’ ” She swallows. “I read that somewhere. I…um.” She falls silent.
My heart, if anything, speeds up. Molly? Molly with the dead brother? Molly, whose past year has made my poor-little-Theo-his-parents-got-divorced life seem like a picnic? Seriously?
She looks at me, then down at the table, so that all I can see is the top of her head, her braids so tight I can see her scalp.
“On Tuesday I stayed late for student council, and my mom forgot….I didn’t have a ride home. So I had to wait until six-thirty, when my dad got home. And after doing my homework in the computer lab I went to the student gallery, to wait. And a bunch of guys…Kevin, Jude, Blaine—you know?” She looks at me.
I nod. Of course I know Blaine Travis. He’s…well, I’d say he’s a cliché of a total bully, like Biff from that old movie Back to the Future. But maybe after this week I have to wonder. Maybe he’s got some kind of horrible stuff going on in his life too. I sigh. It was a lot easier when I could be Judgy McJudgeface.
“Yeah, I know Blaine. He and Kevin Hellson”—of the giant zit—“spent fourth grade telling everyone I was gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with it if I was. But—”
Molly nods. “Yeah. He called my brother a retard when they did baseball together one summer. Which was really not cool, since my brother actually was developmentally delayed.” She swallows so loudly we can all hear it, then goes on. “Anyway, Jude, Blaine, Kevin, and Shaun Wender were in there, cracking up, jumping around, and…” Her voice trails off. “And trashing your photos. And I walked right in, not even paying attention at first—” Molly starts to cry but keeps talking, and my own face is hot in sympathy.
“…and they dared me to do it, to take a marker and draw something, and I didn’t…I just…” Her sobs become so loud it’s hard to understand her, and I stare.
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