Don't Get Caught(55)

Dad puts both hands on the table, but Mom slides one of hers into mine underneath. It’s the most attention she’s shown me in days.

Mrs. B says, “Max, I want you to know I don’t think you’re a bad kid. I’ve been in this job for almost forty years and can say that I’ve seen my share of trouble kids, and you’re not one of them.”

This is promising.

“However…”

Uh-oh.

“I do think you’re on a dangerous path and that if you’re not careful, you could end up in some real trouble. After discussing matters, I’ve decided that the school district will ask the police to drop the charges in regard to the vandalism in Mr. Stranko’s office. Considering your side of the story, Mr. Huelle doesn’t think there’s enough evidence to prove you’re responsible. I tend to agree with him, as does Officer Hale.”

Yes!

“However—”

Dammit.

“I also think you’re lying to us. Not outright, but you’re definitely not telling the whole story. I’m pretty sure your parents agree.”

Out of the corners of my eyes, I see both Mom and Dad nod.

“At best, Max, you’re guilty of showing exceptionally bad judgment for the third time this year and, at worst, of outright vandalism. With your lack of forthrightness and any clear evidence to support your story, you’ve left me no other choice than to follow school policy, which was explained in the recent assembly.”

Under the table, Mom squeezes my hand tight enough to grind my bones to dust. Next to me, Dad is catatonic, and I’m holding my breath.

“You are to be suspended ten days. I could expel you for what you’ve done, but I don’t think that’s fitting here. Your teachers will send work home, but it will be at their discretion whether they accept the assignments for full credit. You can also contact them through email if you have questions.”

I’m trying not to cry, but it’s hard.

“Max, I understand this has to be difficult for you, but I’m hoping this sets you back on the path we all want you on. You should know that Mr. Watson came in here this morning and offered a spirited defense against your punishment, but in the end, we decided that this is best.”

“I’m not lying,” I choke out. “The Chaos Club brought me here.”

No one responds. All that happens is Mrs. B explains how my make-up work will be available after school at the front desk. After that, we’re told we can go.

There’s no shaking of hands.

No thank-yous or sorrys.

No last-second reprieve by Mrs. B.

Only a triumphant Stranko smirking *-ishly at me.

But then again, Stranko’s going back to his My Little Pony office, and I’m headed home on a ten-day forced hell-vacation, so who’s the real * here?

On second thought, don’t answer that.





Chapter 19


The ground rules for my suspension as laid out by my parents: 1. No phone, no Internet, and no visitors.

2. No leaving the house.

3. During the day, Mom or Dad will call the house at random times to make sure I’m there.

4. Once Mom brings my homework, I’m to finish it immediately.

5. Bedtime is nine o’clock.

So basically, prison. But better than what I feared, which was that I’d be placed into one of those mountain-survival programs where you’re supposed to learn to respect your parents but only end up being sodomized with a tree branch by a crazed counselor. Unfortunately, like any inmate, the jailers don’t believe me when I say I was set up. I come to this realization on the third full day of my suspension, when I apologize for the thousandth time and add, “It was stupid of me to trust them.”

“Trust who?” Mom asks.

“The Chaos Club.”

My parents roll their eyes.

“You still think I’m making that up?”

“We don’t know, Max,” Dad says. “But you lied by not telling us about the water tower, so who’s to say you’re not lying here?”

“I’m not lying!”

Mom gives an if you say so look that just kills me. Warden Dad’s not finished though, and it’s obvious from the edge in his voice that he’s been holding in a lot of anger.

“You know, Max, if your story’s true, then you should have come to us. Of course we would have been mad, but at least then we would have understood your going to the water tower. Hell, if I were your age, I would’ve gone. But no, you didn’t tell us. In fact, you made it worse by involving Boyd in your lie. Then, as if you hadn’t caused enough trouble, you make another dumb decision, and we have to suffer the embarrassment of picking you up at the police station, where I have to apologize—apologize!—to Dwayne Stranko for your ridiculous behavior. So I’m sorry if we’re a little skeptical of your story. You’re not the most credible person right now. You’ve changed this year, and I’m not sure it’s for the better. Maybe instead of repeating over and over again that you were set up, you should make better use of your time by reflecting on what you’ve done and who you want to be.”

Astonishingly, I take Dad’s advice.

For the next couple days, I think about what I’ve done.

I think about who I am.