20
JJ didn’t have time to answer before Mr. Zukowski opened his door and called me inside. I thought I was in for a lecture, a real spittle-spewing tongue-throttling along the lines of what JJ got. But Mr. Zukowski didn’t seem angry with me. Mostly, he seemed perplexed.
“Why did you do it, Maria?” he kept asking.
He didn’t ask me if I had done it. That much was beyond question. Yes, I had done it. Yes, that was me on camera. Yes, that was me sneaking around the back offices while everyone else was outside. Yes, indeed, that was me feeling my way around, reading the braille signs on all the doors, not stopping until I found his door. And, yes, that was me who put the rubber chicken on his desk.
So Mr. Zukowski didn’t want to know if I had done it. He just wanted to know why.
“I don’t know,” I told him.
And that was the truth.
I certainly didn’t wake up that day intending to put Antonio on Zukowski’s desk. That was never part of the plan. I’d meant to take him out of my backpack at home last night, and leave him there. I’d just forgotten.
So what made me do it? What changed my mind? Was it finding out that JJ was up on top of the flagpole? (The flagpole! Of all the crazy things!)
Or was it the feeling, that new, new feeling, of being alone inside, all by myself, just me and the echoes of my cane in that empty hallway? Was it the opportunity that made me do it? I mean, think about it. A girl like me doesn’t get the chance to be bad very often. What did it mean that I took the first chance I got?
“What made you do it?” Zukowski asked again.
“I don’t know,” I said again.
“Well, Maria, it’s very odd, that’s for sure. I can’t claim to understand it. And it’s a direct violation of school policy. You are not to be in my office unsupervised at any time.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Zukowski.”
“You know, Maria, if it was anyone else, I’d put a letter of reprimand into their permanent file. That’s the kind of letter that follows you to high school. But I’m not inclined to do that in your case.”
I should have been relieved, I know. Instead, I felt insulted.
“Why not?” I asked. “Why not put a letter in my file?”
“Because.”
“Because what?”
“It’s just that, well, you know.”
“What?” I challenged him. “Is it because I’m blind?”
“Well, I’d just hate it if, you know, this letter made things…I don’t know…more difficult for you later.”
“Is that right?” I asked him.
“Well, um,” he stammered. “Yes. Sure.”
I couldn’t believe it. Mr. Zukowski, the big bad principal, brought to his knees at the thought of punishing a blind girl.
“You’d hate it worse if I grew up spoiled.”
“What’s that?”
“I said, you’d hate it worse if I grew up spoiled. If I thought I was too special to get punished. You’re always preaching responsibility, right?”
“Well…”
“Do it.”
“What’s that?”
“Do it. Write me the letter. Don’t treat me any different.”
“Well now, Maria, that’s up to me, isn’t it?” I was glad to hear a little edge back in his voice. “It’s not your place to tell me what to do.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“Back to class with you, Maria,” he said. He even sounded a little scary this time. That’s better, I thought. He shouldn’t be scared of me. I should be scared of him.
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“And no more chickens,” he said, his voice louder still.
“No, sir.”
“You’re dismissed.”
I stood up, unfolded Roxie, and headed into the hallway.
“Oh, Maria?” Mr. Zukowski called after me.
“Yes?”
“I’ll be putting that letter in your file this afternoon. And a copy home to your mother.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. I walked out of his office, punished, scolded, and as proud as I’d ever been in my life.