After photographing my bike, Donny nodded and we went inside. I led him silently down the empty halls, feeling anxious and jumpy. He seemed to notice, because he squeezed my hand, letting me know I was safe.
We stopped in front of my locker, which was slimed with bits of eggshells and more shaving cream. A foul odor emanated from inside. Donny got out his phone and snapped a few pictures. Then he said, “Now show me where you were attacked.”
I walked him back down the hall we’d just come from, but took a right at the second corridor. At the end was a set of stairs leading down a half flight to the boys’ locker room. I pointed to it. “They grabbed me from behind and took me down there,” I said, my voice wavering.
“Walk me through exactly what happened,” Donny said, his jaw clenching and unclenching.
“Eric and Mario grabbed me from over there,” I said, pointing now to a water fountain at the entrance to the corridor.
“Did you have a class around here?” Donny asked.
I shook my head. “I was coming back from Principal Harris’s office after he met with me, and one of the secretaries was nice enough to let me have a hall pass ’cause it was after the bell rang. I was getting scared to walk the hallways, and you saw what they did to my locker.”
Donny closed his eyes, and I could see he was trying very hard to keep calm. “So, Harris essentially tells you that you’re on your own, and you come back down this hallway and stop for a drink and then what?”
“Mario and Eric must’ve skipped their last class, because I didn’t even know they were behind me until they’d grabbed me. Mario had me in a chokehold, and he covered my mouth so I couldn’t scream. Eric grabbed my legs and they took me to the stairwell.”
Donny swiveled slightly to stare at the steps leading down to the locker room. Turning back to me, he asked, “Were there any teachers around? Any other kids who witnessed it?”
“Yeah. I saw Jacob Guttman walk by. I know he saw what was going on.”
“Did he say or do anything to help you?”
I shook my head. I’d seen with my own eyes while I was kicking and struggling with Mario and Eric how Jacob (5-25-2081) had snickered and kept on walking.
“Then what happened?” Donny asked.
I put a hand up to my swollen eye to cool it. I’d had ice packs on it off and on since the day before. “While they were dragging me down the steps I got a leg free and kicked Eric in the groin. He doubled over, and Mario let go of me. That’s when Eric got really mad and slapped me. I hit my head on the railing and went down.”
Donny’s lips thinned again, and he looked murderous. I saw him breathe in deeply and let it out slowly, but it still took him a minute before he could speak again. “Who found you?”
“Mr. Pierce,” I said. “I think he had hall duty, and he found me and helped me to the nurse.”
Eric had hit me hard enough to slam my head into the railing, which had nearly knocked me out. I was discovered, dizzy and disoriented, by my chemistry teacher, who helped me to the school nurse, who’d then called my mom. She and Mrs. Duncan had come to pick me up in Mrs. Duncan’s car, and they’d taken me to the doctor. While I was in with him, Ma called Donny and he’d walked right out on a client and driven two hours at rush hour to see me. He’d spent the night with us, and he’d been on the phone raising hell all morning and afternoon. That’s what had led to the late afternoon meeting with the superintendent.
“Okay,” Donny said, snapping another photo. “I think I’ve got it.” Then he took my hand again and said, “We’re meeting Mrs. Matsuda in the principal’s office. Can you take me there?”
I stared down at my feet. We were at the school to meet with the superintendent, but I didn’t want to explain to anybody but Donny what’d been happening to me over the course of the last few days. It was too overwhelming.
Donny squeezed my hand encouragingly. “Listen, kiddo, I know this is hard, but you have to speak up and tell the superintendent what happened. If you don’t, then not only will Anderson and Rossi get away without much more than a slap on the wrist, but Principal Harris won’t get reprimanded, either. Poplar High is supposed to have a no-bullying tolerance, and any reports of bullying are required by the school’s own charter to be acted upon immediately. You reported several incidents to Harris, and in your last effort to notify him, he told you that if you didn’t like it, you could leave. And the guy was dumb enough to say it in front of one of his secretaries, which means he thinks he’s above the school’s policy. Don’t you see how unacceptable that is?”
I did see, but I didn’t think I could bring myself to walk these halls during the day ever again. “I can’t come back here, Donny. Everybody’s against me.”
“That’s because no one’s telling them they can’t be,” Donny said. I frowned at him. He didn’t understand. “What’re you gonna do, Maddie? Drop out of school? Cornell doesn’t take dropouts.”
“I could go to another high school,” I told him.
“You want to come live with me?” he asked.
I dropped my gaze. He knew I couldn’t. “Maybe I could go to Jupiter or Willow Mill?”
Donny sighed. “Getting you into their school system would be tricky. This county doesn’t like students crossing residential lines to attend other schools, and frankly, as long as this murder investigation hangs over your head, you’re going to have issues no matter where you go.”
I shuffled my feet, still undecided.
Then Donny said, “Plus, what’s Stubby going to do once we get him cleared of all charges? You think he’ll want to come back to school without you?”
My head snapped up. “You found something that’ll clear Stubby?”
Donny shrugged. “Maybe. It’s something that I still need to look at, but there could be something that shifts the investigation away from both of you. At the very least I intend to present it at Stubby’s pretrial hearing next week. With any luck, the judge will see it our way.”
I felt a seed of hope begin to spring up inside me, but Donny held up a hand of caution. “Don’t set your hopes too high, Maddie. The feds have been busy building their case, and I won’t see much of what they have until the pretrial. There might be enough circumstantial evidence to convince the judge to hold Stubby over for trial. I hope there isn’t, but I want to warn you that I might not be able to clear him this early.”
Still, it was at least a ray of hope and I clung to it. “Will I have to testify?”
Donny shook his head. “No way am I gonna put you on that stand. At least not for the pretrial. It’s too risky. The DA knows the feds are trying to link you to the murders. If you get on that stand, they’ll do their best to insinuate that you were involved too so they can use your testimony against you later, if the case goes to trial. We’ll wait until then to get you up there.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d been terrified of going on the witness stand and being identified by the DA as Stubby’s female accomplice. But then another dark thought entered my mind. “Donny? If the jury from Stubby’s pretrial hearing rules that the case should move forward to an actual trial, does that mean that the feds will arrest me next?”
Donny sighed and I could see in his eyes that he was worried. “I hope not, but they could.”
“What are they waiting for?” I asked. The anxiety was killing me.
Donny smiled like he thought I’d asked a naive question, and he cupped my chin fondly. “Because you don’t look like someone who’d torture and kill two kids, Maddie. You look like the sweet girl next door, which is exactly what you are, but from the DA’s perspective, so many of these cases are won in the court of public opinion that, unless they find you with a smoking gun, or Stubby implicates you directly, the feds know that with only the notebook and Mrs. Tibbolt’s flimsy testimony, they’re fighting an uphill battle.”
His explanation didn’t make me feel better, because in my world here at Poplar Hollow High, the public had already found me guilty and I was payi
ng the price for it. “Oh,” was all I could say.
Donny took up my hand again and swung it back and forth. “Hey,” he said. “Buck up, li’l camper. Let’s have our talk with the superintendent, and then let’s see about chasing down that lead that’ll help Stubs.”
When we got to the principal’s office, I noticed that all but one of the secretaries had gone home. The woman who remained was Miss Langley (7-22-2076), and when she saw me, she offered me a nervous smile. She’d been the witness to Mr. Harris’s last, dismissive conversation with me.
“You can go right in,” she told us, and Donny led the way into Principal Harris’s office.
I was surprised to find a petite Asian woman with shiny black hair and knobby jewelry sitting there. “Mr. Fynn,” she said warmly, getting to her feet to come around and shake his hand. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
She then introduced herself to me. “You must be Madelyn.” I shook her hand and nodded. “I’m Mrs. Matsuda, the superintendent of schools”
Mrs. Matsuda (1-15-2056) then pointed to the two chairs in front of the desk, and we all took our seats. For the next hour, I was asked to tell her exactly what’d been happening at the school since word got out that my best friend had been arrested for the murder of Payton Wyly and my house had been searched by the FBI. After that, Donny showed her the picture of my bike, my locker, and the stairwell where Mario and Eric had jumped me. She remained silent as I told her what’d been going on, and her face betrayed nothing of what she might be thinking—not even when she saw the image of the garbage heap that’d once been my bike.
At last I was done, and she started to ask me questions. She’d been taking notes all along, and I realized some of what she’d been jotting down were questions that she wanted to ask me. They weren’t all about the bullying in the hallways or the hard time Mr. Harris and a few of the teachers were giving me, but things like how long had Stubby and I been friends? Did I like going to school at Poplar Hollow High? And, most interesting of all, she said that she’d heard about my special ability and found it very intriguing. “Can you see everyone’s deathdate, Maddie?” she asked me.
I nodded.
“Really?” She didn’t seem doubtful so much as surprised.
“Yes, ma’am. I can see them on anyone as long as I’m within about four or five feet of them. I can also see them on a person in a photograph as long as it’s not taken from too far away.”
“What if the person is already dead?”
I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Their deathdate still shows up even if it’s in the past.”
Donny sat forward, but he didn’t comment. I could tell that he was prepared to stop me from answering any question she might ask that could be used against me later.
Mrs. Matsuda stood up and moved over to a row of books. I saw that they were all the textbooks we used here at the high school. Taking one down she thumbed through it. “This is the senior history book,” she said. And then she paused about the middle of the book and turned it toward me. On the page was a black and white photo of a bearded man in period attire. “Do you know who this is?” she said, careful to hold her hand over the caption underneath the photo.
I leaned forward to really look at the picture, then shook my head. “No, ma’am.”
“Can you see his deathdate?”
“December tenth, eighteen ninety-six, ma’am.”
Mrs. Matsuda’s brow shot up. “You’re correct, Maddie,” she told me, turning the book back toward her. “That is Alfred Nobel. He invented dynamite.”
I looked at Donny, but he seemed focused on Mrs. Matsuda. The superintendent then thumbed a few more pages and swiveled the book toward me again. “How about this woman. Do you know her?”
That photo was far more contemporary, but I still didn’t recognize the woman. “No, ma’am. I don’t know her.”
“What about her deathdate?”
“March twenty-sixth, twenty eleven.”
Mrs. Matsuda sat down and stared at me with a mixture of wonder and disbelief. “You really don’t know who she was?” she pressed.
I shook my head. “No, ma’am. I’m sorry.”
Mrs. Matsuda chuckled. “There’s no need to be sorry. That’s a photo of Geraldine Ferraro. She was the first female candidate for vice president of the United States. She was a personal hero of mine, and she died of cancer a few years ago. I don’t know the exact date, but I’ll bet if I look it up you’ll be right.”
And then Mrs. Matsuda reached down to her pocketbook and pulled out her iPhone. Thumbing through it she finally turned it toward me. Pictured there was the superintendent with her arm around an older woman who bore a slight resemblance to her. “Can you tell me the deathdate for the woman sitting next to me?” she asked.
I squinted and bit my lip when I saw the numbers. “She died last month, ma’am. The twentieth of October. I’m really sorry.”
Mrs. Matsuda’s eyes misted, and she put the phone to her chest. “It’s okay, Maddie. My mom was sick for a long time.”
After tucking her phone back into her purse, Mrs. Matsuda moved a manila file from the right of the desk over to the center and opened it. She then ran her fingers down the side of the top page, and I wondered what was in the folder, and then she began to read from it. “Madelyn Fynn; junior; cumulative GPA of three-point-eight-five. Fourth in your class with an excellent attendance record.” I realized then that she was reading from my student file. “Last summer, you contributed one hundred and sixty hours of community service to Habitat for Humanity; you are a member of the Concerned Students for Animal Welfare; and your PSAT scores from last year put you in the ninety-seventh percentile overall.”
Donny reached out and squeezed my hand. I knew he was proud of me, but I was still focused on Mrs. Matsuda. She closed the folder and gave me a thoughtful look. “You say that Mrs. Wilson gave your paper on Catcher in the Rye a D minus?”
I nodded as my face flushed with heat. I felt like I was ratting out Mrs. Wilson.
“May I see that paper?”
I dug through my backpack and fished it out. Mrs. Matsuda took it and began to read. It took her a few minutes because it was about five pages, but at the end she folded it up and set it on top of the manila folder. “Maddie, I must apologize to you. It seems that you have not been afforded the standard that all people in this country have as their right, which is the assumption of innocence until proven otherwise in a court of law, not the court of public opinion. I don’t know if you had anything to do with the death of those two young people, but I’m inclined to believe that you didn’t. It’s clear to me that you have a special and incredible talent, and that talent has brought you a world of hurt and misjudgment. Bullying at this high school—or at any school within my jurisdiction—is intolerable. And anyone who actively ignores—or through inaction promotes—such behavior will be swiftly dealt with.
“It’s clear to me that you’ve been bullied. What isn’t clear is who’s responsible. I’ve heard your claims that Principal Harris knew of the extent of this behavior and did nothing about it, and I’ve already discussed the matter with Miss Langley, but I would like to take tomorrow to interview a few of your other teachers, including Mrs. Wilson. While I’m conducting my investigation, I’d like for you to take the day off from school. I’ll make sure your assignments are delivered to your home tomorrow evening with specific instructions from all your teachers, and I will be reviewing your work along with your teachers to ensure that you are fairly graded.”
I felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Mrs. Matsuda was going to help me. Donny squeezed my hand again and offered me an encouraging smile. He was pleased, too.
Shifting her gaze to Donny, Mrs. Matsuda added, “And I will be suspending Mr. Anderson and Mr. Rossi, and I’ll also give Mr. Guttman a stern warning and two weeks’ detention so that the next time he sees something like that going on, he’ll think twice about not reporting it.
�
�Additionally, Mr. Fynn, at this time I am not going to grant your request to bring suit against the school, but I will make sure that Maddie is reimbursed for her bicycle. And when she returns to school, her safety and well-being will be given the highest importance.”
Donny nodded and stood up to shake her hand. “Thank you, Mrs. Matsuda. I appreciate your time, and I think your solution is a good one. Please let us know what your investigation turns up.”
And then we were leaving. It took me several minutes to process what Mrs. Matsuda had said. “She’s going to give me money for my bike?”
Donny nodded. “Yeah. I’ll take you to the bike shop tomorrow to pick out a new one, and we’ll keep the receipt to make sure they reimburse you.”
When we got to the car I said, “What’d she mean, you couldn’t sue the school?”
“In this country you have to get permission to sue the government,” Donny explained. “I had to submit a motion to sue through the superintendent.”
“That’s crazy,” I said. “Why would they ever give you permission to sue them?”
Donny grinned. “They almost never do, but they also realize that we could take all this to the press and things could get ugly for them, so they pay attention to stuff like this.”
“The bike store should still be open,” I mentioned, excited by my sudden change of fortune.
“We can’t. We have another appointment with a colleague of mine.”
“Who?”
“You’ll see,” Donny said, and I could tell he wasn’t going to elaborate.
I sat back in my seat, still thinking about my change of luck, which is why I didn’t press him on it. As Donny was backing up the car I happened to catch a glimpse of Mr. Chavez walking through the parking lot. I saw him stop at a pickup and pull out his keys. I blinked. The truck was one of those big, older models, the kind that makes a lot of noise when it’s moving.
A tickle of fear snaked its way through my stomach as I watched Chavez unlock the door and prepare to get in. And then, as if sensing he was being watched, he paused, turned toward Donny’s car, and stared hard at me. I saw his shoulders stiffen along with his expression, and I knew he could see me driving away in my uncle’s BMW. The tickle of fear grew tentacles that inched up my chest and spine, and I pulled my face away from the window, slumping down to hide in my seat.
When Page 14