Alone at 90 Foot by Katherine Holubitsky

mouth. He hears his name spoken, but at that moment isn’t quite sure what he’s done.
    Mr. O stands up. “Is that true, Jenkins? You set the stink bomb?”
    â€œWhat?” Carl stops chewing. He struggles to sit up in his desk. “What are you talking about?”
    â€œYou did so!” insists Danielle. “I saw him making it. He set it off while you were passing out the worksheets.”
    Carl finally clues in. “I did not! Higgins, you’re full of it. Don’t listen to her. She’s making it up.”
    Mr. Overhand frowns as he looks from one to the other.
    â€œOh, yeah? Well, I can prove it. Mr. O, look closely at that pen in your hand. My guess is it’s an aqua-blue Paper-Mate.”
    Mr. O looks at the pen. It
is
an aqua-blue Paper-Mate. But then, so is mine. And so is Danielle’s. We’d all been given them by Mr. Bartell. He’d set out a box during our last exam.
    â€œShe’s right, Jenkins. This bomb was made froma Paper-Mate. Alright, all of you can go. Except you, Jenkins. You stay right where you are.”
    Danielle is the first one out the door.
    â€œAnd don’t forget your homework, the ten review questions at the end of chapter fourteen.”
    â€œBut she’s lying! She’s making the whole thing up! Look, Danny’s got a Paper-Mate! Linda’s got a Paper-Mate!”
    Save your breath, Carl. Reasoning at this point is useless. By now, half the class has left the room. No one is going to listen to you. Mr. O has his culprit. And we have our freedom.
    â€œCarl Jenkins, you and I are going down to visit Mrs. Lofts.”
    Why didn’t I tell Mr. O what I knew? I watched Justin Randall look up and notice for the first time that everyone was gone. He placed the winged hot rod he was drawing in a notebook. He slowly packed his books away and wandered out the door. Maybe I should have. But I knew Carl Jenkins had enough going for him that he could take it. He was sharp. He’d get out of it. Justin Randall wouldn’t have a chance. If what he did had hurt someone, then definitely, I would have said something. But a stink bomb? It was the work of a childish mind trying to have some fun.

FOURTEEN
    June 7th
    Do you ever get so sick of everything in your life, you just want to quit? Like when you look in the mirror in the morning and you see the same dull face stare back. Or you go into the kitchen and you hear your dad’s same old voice. Or you walk down the hall at school with your so-called-friends, talking about the same old stuff. Or you go from boring class to even more boring class, predicting with one-hundred-percent accuracy what’s going to happen next. Like, Mr. Bartell is going to tell Rudy Lantzto put his penknife away. Rudy’s going to ignore him. Mr. Bartell’s going to say it again. Rudy’s going to say, “Make me,” and Mr. Bartell is going to march him down to see Mrs. Lofts. And you’re thinking, like, so, this is it? My big excitement for the day is watching Rudy Lantz butt heads with Mr. Bartell? Maybe you don’t get like that. It’s probably just me.
    That’s how I’ve been feeling this week. I’m lying on my bed with my headphones on. I’m listening to The Wallflowers. Not even the jars of nature on my bookshelf can cheer me up. I look at them, sitting there, classified by material. You know, like earth, water, minerals and stuff. Then alphabetical by place. I just realized something. I don’t have a jar of Ninety Foot. I never thought to get one. Maybe that’s what I’m missing in my life.
    I don’t have any friends again. Ever since Joanne and Tony Lasserman stumbled onto each other in the Canyon. They’ve been hanging around together every night. Getting to know one another after all this time. So near, and yet so far. “He picks his little sister up from day care after school. He helps her on with her coat. Pam, he’s