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The bell rang and the ninth grade stragglers found their seats. Mrs. Wilkes took roll, followed by an in-depth critique of Shakespeare’s play, As You Like It. She was a diminutive old woman, boxy with skinny legs and an overpowering voice. The class listened politely, though most could have cared less about the finer points of literary criticism.
When it came to competing with iPads and iPods and iPhones and Blackberries, critiquing seemed tedious unless downloaded on a Kindle, but Mrs. Wilkes was too old fashioned to permit them in class. Disheveled papers covered her desk.
My heart skipped when she announced my name, Shale Snyder. Clearing her throat, she began. “Would one be better off never to love and avoid being hurt? Does love always make one happy? As You Like It has its roots in Greek literature, although written by Shakespeare between 1598 and 1600…” Her voice trailed off as she read a few more lines to herself. Then, with one fell swoop, she threw my paper in the trash. “This is too well written to be original. I’m sure Shale copied it off the web. I’m not going to read it.”
Thirty sets of eyes shifted to me, and my face and neck felt hot. Mrs. Wilkes’s beady eyes pulsated. No one moved. If I dropped the straight pin hidden in my sweater pocket, the room would have heard it ping on the floor.
After an unbearable silence, she added, “We’ll deal with this later.” She dug in her pile for another report.
Anything else that happened was a blur, except the ringing of the bell. I ran out the door with Mrs. Wilkes’s voice trailing behind me. “Shale Snyder, I need to talk to you.”
Before I got more than a few feet down the hall, I felt a hand reach up my skirt. I spun. Angry fireballs surged through my popping veins. My eyes dashed back and forth, examining faces and moving bodies in the crowded hallway. There he was—right in front of me, snaking through the maze. The boy wore a red shirt and Atlanta Braves cap.
I shoved students out of my way and heard gasps and curse words as I splayed bodies on the floor. A teacher in a lab coat ducked back into her classroom. When the guilty one turned his head, the nerve endings on my spine tingled. I lunged forward.
Reaching into my sweater pocket, I pulled out the straight pin and stabbed it into his back. Judd winced in pain. I jammed my hand as hard as I could and then pulled out the pin. My hand felt numb, and the pin slipped out of my fingers and fell onto the floor.
I looked around. Shocked students stood frozen, mouths gaping. Judd groaned as he hunched over. A wet splotch grew on his back, soaking through his shirt. It looked like blood. Did I hurt him that badly? My heart raced.
“You little witch!” Judd shrieked. I started to hyperventilate. Tripping over students, I hurried to my next class, scrambling out of sight as he yelled profanities.
As I neared the gymnasium, I still felt his hand touching me. Seeing the blood on his back made me dizzy. I stood outside the gym entrance breathless. What would happen if the kids reported it? How much did the lab teacher see? What would Remi, my stepfather, do if he found out?
I coiled my hands around the metal flagpole. The late bell rang. I pulled out my cell phone as time ticked. I was already twenty minutes late. I leaned my head against the pole. Be calm. This was my last class. Just open the door.
Inside the girl’s dressing room, I headed for my locker. The other students were already outside. As I reached for the metal handle, I noticed the door was already open. Pulling on it, I almost yanked the door off its hinges. Where was my uniform? I checked every corner—it was missing.
“Are you looking for something?”
I turned to see Chumana. A wicked smile crossed her lips, and her smirk irritated me.
“Yes. My gym outfit. Do you know where it is?”
“Try the toilet, doll,” Chumana snickered. “Even though you don’t live with me anymore, I can still make your life miserable—cursed.” She ran out the gym door.
I bolted to the bathroom and checked the stalls. In the first one, a blue uniform floated in the commode. I pulled it out by the end that wasn’t wet. Globs of water dropped back into the toilet. Holding it away from me as it dripped on the floor, I took it over to the sink. Yuck! The water splattered when I turned on the faucet.
Clicking heels approached. I expected to see Chumana, but instead, Mrs. Twiggs stood in the doorway—a left-behind Nazi. She wore her hair pulled back in a bun, and a navy pencil skirt clung to her skinny legs. Her black stockings and pointed shoes reminded me of a witch. Her steely eyes had far too much mascara.
She smacked a ruler in her hand. “Follow me to the office.”
The running water had formed clouds of hot vapors. “Can I get my books?”
“Hurry,” the principal demanded.
I shut off the water and examined my wet uniform. I didn’t want it anyway. I’d make Chumana replace it—somehow. It wasn’t enough to get even. I wanted payback.
Mrs. Twiggs pointed with the ruler for me to walk in front of her. The Nazi wanted nothing better than to see me expelled. I couldn’t remember how many times I had been in her office. Too many students had tattled on me for ridiculous reasons. Sometimes I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
On the way, another teacher stopped us. She and Mrs. Twiggs stepped aside and spoke in whispers. They occasionally made eye contact. I hated not knowing if they were talking about me. The whole time, Mrs. Twiggs smacked the ruler in her hand.
After a few minutes, we continued to the office, located in the adjoining building by the school entrance. I gasped when I opened the door. “Remi!”
He sat in a chair beside the lab teacher who had seen me in the hallway. I wasn’t used to seeing my stepfather look so debonair in his business suit and red tie. Our eyes met before I glanced away. I took a seat as far from him as possible. What had the lab teacher told him?
“Mr. Heller, I’m Mrs. Twiggs, the principal. I’m sorry to call you away from work, but we need you to take Shale home. She’s being suspended.”
“For chasing a student in the hallway?”
“She attacked Judd Luster.”
Remi rubbed the back of his neck, looking baffled. “Mrs. Gluck here told me what happened—that Shale chased a young man down the hallway and caused a commotion. Have you asked for her side of the story?”
Mrs. Twiggs snapped the ruler. “What’s there to ask?”
When Remi didn’t answer, she continued. “There’s never an excuse for violence at school. If he offended her in some way, she should have reported it. There are proper channels for handling disputes between students. Using a deadly weapon isn’t one of them.”
“A weapon?” Remi asked.
I examined the wooden parquet tiles on the floor. Maybe he didn’t hear that part.
Mrs. Twiggs stated matter-of-factly. “Shale has a history of issues dating back to first grade. I’ll have a psychological assessment done as soon as possible. I’m suspending her from school until the testing is completed.”
“Suspending me from school?” She ignored my question.
“Then we’ll decide if she can return. Do you have any questions, Mr. Heller?”
Remi’s face looked stunned.
Tears welled up in my eyes. He would never believe me. Did I want to tell him? I was embarrassed to talk about it. What was a psychological assessment anyway?
I zoned out as Mrs. Twiggs made mindless accusations about me—what a troubled kid I was and that I’d never amount to anything if someone didn’t set me straight.
I didn’t want to ride home with Remi and listen to him blow up at me in the car.
I vaguely heard Mrs. Twiggs addressing me, “Shale, do you have anything to add?”
“What?” I asked.
“Do you have anything to say?”
Sure. I had lots to say, but not to her, not to Remi, not to my mother. I felt like a bird trapped in a cage. I wanted to fly away and never return. I imagined myself so thick-skinned that nothing anyone said or did to me would hurt, but I wasn’t lik
e that.
“Do you have anything you want to add, Shale? We’re waiting.”
I looked at each of them, searching for a sympathetic ear. I shook my head. A teardrop fell on my hand as I covered my mouth with a fist to deafen my sobs.
“Thank you, Mr. Heller, for your prompt attention. I know you and Mrs. Heller recently married. I’d hoped things would get better for Shale with a father in the house. Perhaps it will take more time.”
“He’s not my father,” I blurted out.
“What did you say, little lady?” the principal asked.
“Never mind, Mrs. Twiggs.” Remi reached out to shake her hand. She stood blocking the door.
“Are we done?” Remi asked.
The principal didn’t move.
“I promise to talk to Shale’s mother about her behavior, Mrs. Twiggs. I’m sorry for all of this.” His extended hand waited for a response.
After an awkward moment, she shoved her hand into his. “I’ve already contacted Doctor Silverstein. We’ll do the testing in the next couple of days.”
“As soon as possible would be appreciated so Shale doesn’t miss too much school.” Remi turned to me. “Grab your books, honey, and let’s go.”
“Can—can I go to the restroom?”
Remi glanced at Mrs. Twiggs.
She nodded. “Go ahead.”
I rushed down the hall to the restroom and shoved open the door. It smacked into something on the other side. I stumbled into the bathroom and saw urinals lining the wall. Had I walked into the men’s room? I spun around to make a quick exit— and collided into a bare-chested male. Judd’s cold eyes met mine.
“Get out of my way,” I screeched.
“Why are you in here?”
“I—I went into the wrong bathroom.”
I glanced down, and in his hand was a blood-soaked paper towel. I shoved past him, but he grabbed me from behind and sunk his fingers into my shoulder.
“Let me go,” I screamed.
I got away and ran out the door. Someday he’s going to murder me because I killed his dog.
Chapter Three
SHALE FACES JUDGMENT