Look Who’s Here

Walking into a school in August is like walking onto a ghost ship. You feel like you shouldn’t be there, and you’re never sure who—or what—you might run into.

It was especially weird coming into HVMS. Nobody had to remind me where the principal’s office was either. I could practically see my old footprints, wearing a path to Principal Dwight’s door.

When Mom and I got to the admin center, the front part was empty but the principal’s door was open. I figured Mr. Dwight was back there, sitting at his desk and waiting to yell at me about… whatever I was there to get yelled at about.

Except, it turned out I was wrong. Mr. Dwight wasn’t at his desk.

Ida P. Stricker was.

“Hello… Rafe,” she said.

“Did you and Mr. Dwight switch offices?” I asked, hoping like crazy for a yes.

“No,” she said. “Mr. Dwight is no longer with us.”

“He died?” Mom said. “That’s awful.”

“Actually, he won the jackpot on a Bucks for Life scratch-off ticket,” Stricker said. “I think he’s in the Bahamas right now.”

“Oh,” Mom said. “How nice for him.”

“I suppose,” said Mrs. Stricker, like she’d just bit down on the sourest puppy in the whole patch.

I never thought I’d be jealous of Mr. Dwight in a million years. But I sure was now.

“And how are you, Mrs. Stricker?” Mom asked.

“It’s Principal Stricker now,” she said. “And I’d like to get right to business.”

She picked up her phone and pressed a button. “Charlotte? Would you come in here, please? And bring Rafe Khatchadorian’s old file.”

I could tell that even Mom was getting a little ticked off by now. “What is this about, exactly?” she asked.

“I’m going to let our new vice principal explain the details,” Stricker said. “But to be clear, we’re not here to discuss when Rafe will be returning. We’re here to discuss whether or not he’ll be returning at all.”

“EXCUSE ME?” Mom said.

I felt like someone had just popped open my skull and thrown a firecracker in there.

Stricker sat back in her chair. She might even have smiled, but with her, it’s hard to tell. Let’s just say that old Ida liked me about as much as I liked her.

“But you’re required to enroll Rafe,” Mom said. “This is a public school.”

“Yes,” Stricker said. “A public school from which Rafe was expelled not too long ago. That expulsion still stands, unless Rafe proves that he can abide by the rules.”

“I can’t believe this,” Mom said. “There’s nowhere else for him to go! There must be something we can do.”

“There is,” Stricker said.

Just then, a lady I’d never seen before walked into the office. She had a smile that was about as big and friendly as Mrs. Stricker’s. It looked like this:

“You must be Rafe and Mrs. Khatchadorian,” she said.

“Yes,” Mom said, sounding more annoyed by the second. “And you are?”

When the lady reached over and shook Mom’s hand, I’m pretty sure I heard some knuckles crunching.

“Vice Principal Charlotte P. Stonecase,” she said.