November Blues by Sharon M. Draper Page A

Little kids are gullible.”
    â€œSo the cops came into school?” November asked, getting Dana back to the story.
    â€œYep, the principal, along with four armed police officers with their hands on their guns.”
    â€œLike somebody was gonna shoot them? Cops are so full of themselves.”
    â€œI don’t know. They just looked scary serious. No smiles. No conversation.”
    â€œI bet the cafeteria got so quiet.” November could only imagine what the tension must have been like.
    â€œIt was like all the air had been sucked out. Nobody breathed. Nobody said a word. Everybody watched and waited to see who the cops had come for. I got a couple of unpaid parking tickets in my car. Made my heart go flip-flop for a hot minute!”
    â€œI don’t think they come in with guns for just some unpaid tickets.”
    â€œThank goodness! No—they stomped into the lunchroom, marched over to the table where Logan and Arielle were eating lunch, pulled Logan to his feet, and handcuffed him in front of two hundred gaping students.”
    â€œBusted!”
    â€œHe had only taken one bite out of his hamburger.”
    â€œThen what? Did he say anything?”
    â€œNo, he was way cool. He looked like those criminals on TV—like he was too smooth to look scared or show emotion.”
    â€œDid they read him his rights like they do on the cop shows? Girlfriend, I’m kicking myself that I missed this!”
    â€œYeah, they did! You could almost hear every kid there gulping. Then they walked him out. His hands were behind his back, plastic cuffs on his wrists.”
    â€œI thought handcuffs were silver.”
    â€œYou’re thinking cowboy shows. This is the twenty-first century. Cops nowadays use stuff that’s probably impossible for anyone to get out of.”
    â€œI guess you’re right. So, what was Arielle doing while all this was happening?”
    â€œBefore Logan even left the room, she picked up her books, left her lunch, and split.”
    â€œI don’t blame her. Talk about embarrassing! What about Jericho? What did he say?”
    â€œHe was sitting with me and Kofi. But you know Jericho—he keeps his thoughts inside. He left shortly after Arielle did.”
    â€œYou think he went to make her feel better?”
    â€œNot likely. I think he went home. I didn’t see his car in the parking lot after school.”
    â€œYou know, even though Logan put up a good show, I bet he felt like he was gonna pee in his pants.”
    â€œYou got that right. If I was Logan, I’d be real scared.”
    â€œI bet he gets some serious jail time,” November commented.
    â€œYou know, he had a scholarship to college—basketball,” Dana told November.
    â€œAnd just last week Arielle was boasting that Logan had a recording contract ready to sign—big label.” November shook her head.
    â€œA girlfriend. A job. Parents with cash. Good looks. A car.” Dana sounded perplexed.
    â€œWhy would he toss all that away?” asked November.
    â€œJust stupid, I guess. Hey, I gotta go, girl. See you at school tomorrow.”

CHAPTER 19
FRIDAY, MAY 21
    NOVEMBER’S FIRST-BELL CLASS WAS American history. The teacher, Mr. Fox, was a retired army sergeant who seemed to march instead of walk, and he carried himself as if he was still a soldier in dress uniform. He always smelled of cigarettes. It would seem that a man with a military background, someone who had been in actual battles, would be a dynamic teacher of history. Not so.
    Instead of making history come alive, as her European history teacher had the year before—letting them build castles and play with swords and stage mock battles—Mr. Fox assigned a new chapter in the textbook each Monday, passed out study questions on Tuesday, did a vocabulary review on Wednesday and a review of important people in the chapter on Thursday, then gave a quiz on Friday. He never varied his