along. “Baxter?”
Baxter tapped the table nervously but said nothing.
“Boys, we can sit here all morning,” she said.
Behind her, Mr. Mount tried not to smile. Secretly, he admired the boys for protecting each other and facing their punishment together.
“Mr. Mount, would you take Baxter, Griff, and Woody outside?” she said. “I want to talk to Theo alone.” Without a word, the three followed Mr. Mount out of the room. When the door closed, Theo felt totally isolated.
“Look at me, Theo,” she said softly. Theo turned and made eye contact.
“I know you’ve had a bad week,” she said. “You feel as though you’re the victim. The police are after you. Someone is trying to frame you for the burglary. Someone is stalking you. Someone is bullying you. Your face is all over the Internet in that photo of you and your parents leaving the police station. Lies are being told. Rumors are out of control. I understand all this, Theo. I’m on your side, and I hope you know this.”
Theo managed to nod slightly.
“And I’m certain that you did not start this fight. I want you to tell me exactly what happened, okay?”
“I got in a fight,” Theo said.
“But did you start the fight, Theo?”
“I got in a fight and fighting is against the rules.” He found the strong urge to look away, but somehow managed to stare at her. She was disappointed, even hurt, and Theo felt lousy. He considered her a friend, an ally, a person of authority who was trying to help him, and he was giving her nothing.
After a long, tense, nervous, silent pause, she said, “So, you’re not going to tell me what happened?”
Theo shook his head. It hurt more when he moved it.
Then a cruel question: “What will your parents think when I call them and tell them you’ve been suspended from school for fighting?”
“I don’t know,” Theo managed to say, horrified by the prospect. Facing his parents would be far worse than getting kicked in the head. A sharp pain stabbed him in the stomach as he saw the looks in their eyes.
“Okay, please step outside.”
Theo quickly jumped from his chair and left the room. When he stepped through the door, he saw the other three and ran his index finger across his mouth. Lips are zipped. I didn’t rat, and you don’t either.
Baxter was next. He returned to the room, to the table, as if he might be executed.
“Did you say something to Theo about getting into trouble?” she asked.
No response.
“Did you taunt him or harass him?”
No response.
“Did Woody hit you in the face?”
No response.
“Did Theo?”
Nothing.
“Would you please step outside and send in Woody,” she said.
When Baxter stepped through the door and saw the other three, he ran his index finger across his lips. Nobody rats.
While Woody was getting grilled by Mrs. Gladwell, Theo and Griff and Baxter sat on a wooden bench under the watch of Mr. Mount, who felt sorry for the boys. They were all good kids and nothing would be gained by suspensions. Still, rules were rules.
Of the four, Woody would be the last to crack under pressure, and he refused to answer any question from Mrs. Gladwell. When she asked him if he hit Baxter, he responded, “Name, rank, and serial number only.”
“Very funny, Woody. You think this is a game?”
“No.”
“Did you throw the first punch?”
“I refuse to incriminate myself,” he replied.
“Get out of here.”
The weakest link was Griff, and when he survived his little question-and-answer period with Mrs. Gladwell by refusing to rat, she reassembled the four boys in the room. She said, “Very well. I’m going to suspend each of you one day for fighting, and another day for your refusal to cooperate. Today is Thursday and the suspension will run today and tomorrow. You will return to classes on Monday, at which time you will begin a thirty-day probation. Any violation during the next thirty days, and you will be suspended for a week.”
The prospect of missing
Baxter tapped the table nervously but said nothing.
“Boys, we can sit here all morning,” she said.
Behind her, Mr. Mount tried not to smile. Secretly, he admired the boys for protecting each other and facing their punishment together.
“Mr. Mount, would you take Baxter, Griff, and Woody outside?” she said. “I want to talk to Theo alone.” Without a word, the three followed Mr. Mount out of the room. When the door closed, Theo felt totally isolated.
“Look at me, Theo,” she said softly. Theo turned and made eye contact.
“I know you’ve had a bad week,” she said. “You feel as though you’re the victim. The police are after you. Someone is trying to frame you for the burglary. Someone is stalking you. Someone is bullying you. Your face is all over the Internet in that photo of you and your parents leaving the police station. Lies are being told. Rumors are out of control. I understand all this, Theo. I’m on your side, and I hope you know this.”
Theo managed to nod slightly.
“And I’m certain that you did not start this fight. I want you to tell me exactly what happened, okay?”
“I got in a fight,” Theo said.
“But did you start the fight, Theo?”
“I got in a fight and fighting is against the rules.” He found the strong urge to look away, but somehow managed to stare at her. She was disappointed, even hurt, and Theo felt lousy. He considered her a friend, an ally, a person of authority who was trying to help him, and he was giving her nothing.
After a long, tense, nervous, silent pause, she said, “So, you’re not going to tell me what happened?”
Theo shook his head. It hurt more when he moved it.
Then a cruel question: “What will your parents think when I call them and tell them you’ve been suspended from school for fighting?”
“I don’t know,” Theo managed to say, horrified by the prospect. Facing his parents would be far worse than getting kicked in the head. A sharp pain stabbed him in the stomach as he saw the looks in their eyes.
“Okay, please step outside.”
Theo quickly jumped from his chair and left the room. When he stepped through the door, he saw the other three and ran his index finger across his mouth. Lips are zipped. I didn’t rat, and you don’t either.
Baxter was next. He returned to the room, to the table, as if he might be executed.
“Did you say something to Theo about getting into trouble?” she asked.
No response.
“Did you taunt him or harass him?”
No response.
“Did Woody hit you in the face?”
No response.
“Did Theo?”
Nothing.
“Would you please step outside and send in Woody,” she said.
When Baxter stepped through the door and saw the other three, he ran his index finger across his lips. Nobody rats.
While Woody was getting grilled by Mrs. Gladwell, Theo and Griff and Baxter sat on a wooden bench under the watch of Mr. Mount, who felt sorry for the boys. They were all good kids and nothing would be gained by suspensions. Still, rules were rules.
Of the four, Woody would be the last to crack under pressure, and he refused to answer any question from Mrs. Gladwell. When she asked him if he hit Baxter, he responded, “Name, rank, and serial number only.”
“Very funny, Woody. You think this is a game?”
“No.”
“Did you throw the first punch?”
“I refuse to incriminate myself,” he replied.
“Get out of here.”
The weakest link was Griff, and when he survived his little question-and-answer period with Mrs. Gladwell by refusing to rat, she reassembled the four boys in the room. She said, “Very well. I’m going to suspend each of you one day for fighting, and another day for your refusal to cooperate. Today is Thursday and the suspension will run today and tomorrow. You will return to classes on Monday, at which time you will begin a thirty-day probation. Any violation during the next thirty days, and you will be suspended for a week.”
The prospect of missing
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