Chapter 17

i’m sweating and my mouth’s dry as sand when I walk through the school doors. It’s been like this for a week. Nothing from Philmore.

I wait a second, as if Callaghan is going to pounce on me as soon as I’m here. Nothing happens, except kids running into my back.

“Move it, fat ass.”

“Dun the Ton, what the fuck are you doing?”

I need to move, if only to minimize the attention I’m drawing. I step to the side, tease the lens out of my pocket, and hit record. When it’s like this, faces are usually cut off. But there’s something about it that works. Trying to figure out who’s talking shit to who.

I walk on and it’s a typical day.

“Yeah, so I told that bitch to step off. I don’t know who she thinks she is. I’ll steal her man and anyone else’s. I’m looking out for me. Sorry if you can’t handle that.”

“Yeah, she’s totally into fat guys. Who knows why. But if she’ll plow Moby, ain’t no way she’ll say no to me.”

“Bobby? Give me your homework. Bobby, I know you can hear me. Bobby, homework. You know I didn’t do it and you always have the answers. Bobby? We’re boys, right? Come on. Bobby, don’t make me.”

I slide into Blint’s class and am relieved to see Ella already there. “Hey.”

She’s staring at her phone. “Hey, Greg.” She snaps her head toward me. “Did you hear anything?”

“No. Still nothing.”

“Don’t worry. Something like that might take more than a minute. Just watch, you’ll be in the office before the day is over.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No, maybe help you get prepared? You recognize this number?” She holds up her phone and the text. Gonna stick my foot up your ass and kick you back into place.

“Shit, that’s rough. But I’m sure we can both guess who it’s from.”

Taleana and her crew make their racket as they enter and I try to ignore them, but it’s nearly impossible. Taleana’s got on a knee-high pair of boots. “Ready to kick some shit,” she says, and looks right at Ella.

“I thought you were going to . . . hold on.” Ella looks back at the text. “Kick me back into place.”

Taleana moves closer. “The fuck you just say? You accusing me of something?”

Ella doesn’t answer. She folds her hands and watches Taleana.

“Bitch, I asked you a question.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak your language. What was that?”

Taleana wrinkles her forehead. “You’re speaking English right now.”

“Not that.” Ella, still sweet. “I meant ghetto bitch. Which I only partially understand. You’re not from the ghetto.”

Taleana moves down the aisle. Kids move their legs out of the way so as not to get trampled.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Taleana’s face is red, her arm cocked at her side.

“Your name is, uh, Taleana, right?”

Taleana’s face twitches. “That’s right, bitch.”

“Well, then I’m talking to you, Taleana. I’m Ella. So nice to meet you.”

A few kids risk a laugh and I would, too, if I weren’t so close. Ella is not giving Taleana any way in. Most girls are petrified and start kissing her ass on sight. Just like with Alva. Taleana hears the laughter and turns. She glares at the room and Blint walks in. He whistles and heads behind his desk, oblivious.

Taleana leans close to Ella. “This ain’t over.”

“Really? Because it seems like it is. There’s not much more for you to say, especially because your vocabulary’s so limited. But thanks. It was a nice chat.” Ella finishes with a little wave.

Taleana burns a deeper red but walks away.

“Careful, Ella,” I say.

“Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle?”

“Yeah, it is. But who’s the pot and who’s the kettle?”

The bell rings and Taleana’s friends try to console her, but she just shakes them off like they’re flies and locks her jaw in place.

“So, as of today, your projects are due in five weeks. Which means you don’t have much time to finish gathering material because we’re going to spend a lot of time editing. You have to bring your work here, even if you’re editing at home. I need to see what you have and give you the points you deserve. All right?”

No one answers. But I think about what Blint just said. Everything has to be here, on the school’s server, essentially their property. And they can view it at any time. He’s never made that demand before. Is it his rule, or someone else’s?

“Okay then, let’s move on to best practices when interviewing.”

I would rather get kneed in the nuts again by Gilbey than listen to this shit. My phone vibrates with a text. It’s from Ollie. Just saw Dr. Philmore. He went into Callaghan’s office.

My entire body clenches and Ella looks over at me. I put up a hand as if to say I’m fine. Blint says, “Remember, the most important part of interviewing is leaving room for your interviewee to speak. Open-ended questions are good, but make them about your topic. Let us hear what this person has to say. Remember, if they ramble, that’s what editing is for.”

• • •

I’m in study hall when the phone rings. Everything slows. I watch the teacher grab the phone, listen, speak, and turn. Her eyes sweep the room and fall on me. She nods twice and I see her mouth say, “Yes.” My heart seizes and I wonder if passing out would work in my benefit.

“Mr. Dunsmore?”

I look up.

“Mr. Callaghan would like to see you.”

Kids murmur, but not like when it’s for someone who always gets in trouble, say Danny Martone. Then it’s fun because the class places bets on what he did and how long he’ll be gone. Sometimes Danny even gets in on the action. With me, they just laugh. Because I’m a joke. A big, fat, fucking joke.

I gather my shit and walk toward Callaghan’s office. My head’s spinning and my stomach’s churning and everything’s sweating. The hit catches me completely unawares, and I bounce into the wall, dazed.

“Ha, ha, fat boy. Good luck!” Gilbey spits his words and moves down the hall as if we’ve just pounded fists. He knows where I’m headed. And if he knows, and isn’t afraid . . . I breathe. It’s all I can do.

I walk into Callaghan’s office and his secretary is decked out in our school colors. She’s holding a pen that’s shaped like a lacrosse stick. How the hell did I forget that today is the bros’ first home game? Callaghan’s going to gut me and use my intestines to string a new head on his STX. The secretary presses a button on her phone. “Greg Dunsmore is here, sir.”

“Send him in.”

She waves toward the door and I catch her earrings: lacrosse balls. I turn the handle and shit myself. Not literally, but pretty damn close to it. Standing at Callaghan’s desk is Superintendent Philmore. Both men look at me, but Philmore’s eyes are as kind as Callaghan’s are vicious.

“Greg, have you met Dr. Philmore?” Callaghan’s all business, there’s even a trace of pleasantry in his voice.

“Uh, no, I haven’t.” I stretch out my hand, which is dripping in sweat.

Dr. Philmore takes it and winces the slightest bit as he shakes. “Nice to meet you, Greg. I can only imagine you’re here for praise from Mr. Callaghan?” He discreetly wipes his hand on his suit coat and turns to my principal.

“Yes. Greg here is one of our budding film students.”

My stomach drops into my nuts.

Dr. Philmore smiles and nods at me.

“In fact, that’s why I called him down, to talk about his latest project.”

Philmore says, “That’s great.” Holy balls, I’m screwed.

“Well, Jeremiah, Always a pleasure.” Philmore shakes Callaghan’s hand, nods again at me, and walks out of the office.

I’m so confused, so scared, so undone that I say, “Huh?” when Callaghan tells me to sit.

“Sit,” he says again. Not a question.

I fill one of the chairs before his desk and could punch myself. I had Philmore in front of me, and I didn’t say a word about the email. I could have just asked if he’d had a chance to look at it. Because maybe he hasn’t? And asking would have made it stick out. But I didn’t because I thought he knew. What’s wrong with me? Callaghan may be evil, but he’s smart, and he’s onto me.

Callaghan looks out his window over the playing fields. “Would you care to explain yourself?”

A wide open question, so open-ended I could ramble for hours. Great if the person wants to talk. I shake my head.

“What’s that?” Callaghan turns to me.

I shake again.

“This will go much better for you if you speak. Am I clear?”

I doubt that, but I say, “Yes.”

“Good. Let’s try this again. Please explain yourself. Why are you here?”

I want to say because my mom and dad banged and nine months later, holy shit there I was. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Callaghan sounds like he just ate something rotten. “I find it impossible to believe that you don’t know that you sent an inflammatory video that you labeled hazing.” Callaghan searches my face and I look away.

How? How did he see it and not Philmore? Did I paste the wrong address?

“Does that ring any bells, Greg? Do you have an idea, now, why you are here?”

I’ve got two options: tell the truth or lie. I know what’s right, but I also know Callaghan isn’t. “No, I don’t. Could you explain?”

Callaghan bends at the waist and places his hands on his desk, like an animal gearing up to pounce. I swear he sniffs the air. “Are you honestly going to sit there and tell me you didn’t send the video?”

Yes, I am. “Uh, I don’t even know what video you’re talking about, so yeah. I haven’t sent you anything.” There, I technically haven’t lied.

Callaghan stays in his crouched position for another moment. “Then we have a problem, because last night I received an email that originated from your address.” He holds up a hand. “I already had it traced to your IP.”

I’m sweating but hold on for dear life. Some part of me knows that he wasn’t supposed to receive that email, that I didn’t make a mistake, and that he shouldn’t be talking to me about it. “That doesn’t necessarily prove I sent it.”

“GDuns@gmail isn’t your address?”

“It is, but you do know that people can hack into accounts?”

“Do you really expect me to buy that?”

I swallow and collect my words, because this next piece has to work. “Feel free to investigate. I didn’t send you anything. Why would I?”

Callaghan’s jaw stiffens and his eyes narrow. Damn, maybe I should play poker? I’m good at bluffing.

“All right, I’ll do just that.” He smiles and I know my bluff was for shit. “In the meantime, in order to keep my athletes safe, you and your friends are no longer allowed in the weight room after school. Alva told me everything.”

“What? You can’t do that! None of us has done anything!” I have to pretend that I haven’t thought of this already. Let him think I’m stupid.

Callaghan stares me down. “Then if you’re innocent, you won’t mind allowing me time to investigate and to clear your name? In the meantime, in order to protect your academic standing and to ensure the athletic climate for our lacrosse players, I have every right to make sure you don’t go anywhere near them.” I force myself to keep looking at Callaghan. “Do you understand me, Greg?”

I do, but don’t give him the respect of answering. I stand and walk out.