Clay hooted, “Woo-wooh!” into the doorway, then ran back across the hallway intersection and arrived at the office just as the bell rang to end fourth period.
But he didn’t go into the office. He kept away from the wide windows and leaned up against the tiled wall.
In his mind Clay began composing how he was going to tell Mitch about all of this later on. First was getting the idea for the drawing, then forcing Mr. Dash to send him to the principal with it, then goofing around in the empty halls and taking his own sweet time getting to the office. So far, it was a pretty good story.
A lot of the sixth graders were heading back from art and music now, and they were going to have to walk right past the office on their way to lunch. Clay had placed himself in the perfect spot to see everyone—and be seen.
He especially wanted the kids from his art class to see him standing there, to see that he hadn’t even gone into the office yet, to see that the envelope with the drawing was still in his hand, still taped shut. They’d all be talking about his drawing, he knew they would. They’d be talking about what BriAnne had whispered to James: “Clay’s really gonna get it this time.”
And thinking about that brought the perfect smile to his face, the smile he wanted everyone to see, a smile that said, Yeah, that’s right—I’m doing this my way, same as always.
While he was enjoying that thought and nodding at the kids who waved or caught his eye, Hank came up from his left and punched him on the arm.
“That’s for gettin’ me yelled at in chorus!”
Clay grinned and turned, then made a quick move like he was going to punch back. But he didn’t. “It was worth it,” he said.
Hank smiled, agreeing. “What’re you waitin’ here for?” he said. “Let’s go eat.”
Clay shook his head. “Can’t. Gotta go see the warden.”
“Yeah? What’d you do now?”
“I made a little drawing, that’s all.”
Clay opened the brown envelope—just ripped off the tape, pulled out the picture, and held it up.
Hank’s eyes bugged out so far Clay thought they were going to pop and squirt slime everywhere.
“Oh, man!” he gasped. “You are so dead! Mr. K. seen that yet?”
Clay snorted. “What do you think?”
Hank stared at the drawing, then at Clay, and then suddenly seemed terrified, speechless.
“Yeah,” said Clay with a grin, “after that jackass gets a good look at this jackass, I don’t think I’ll be hangin’ out in the halls much, do you?”
Hank shook his head, and then kept on shaking it, both eyebrows up as far as they would go.
Clay started laughing, and when he noticed some other kids looking their way and pointing, he laughed even harder.
“Please hand that to me.”
The deep voice was right behind him.
Clay stopped laughing. He turned around and gave the paper to Mr. Kelling. The principal looked at the drawing—and Hank slid three steps sideways and hurried toward the lunchroom.
The principal glanced up from the picture straight into Clay’s eyes.
“My office. Now.”
Clay nodded and walked toward the doorway, being sure to keep a cool, carefree look on his face.
But inside, he was actually grinning. This thing was shaping up just right—and he couldn’t wait to tell Mitch all about it.
Extra Credit Page 11
