April Fools' Joke (Holiday High Series Book 3)

by Kellie McAllen

  What was her name again? Casey something?

  The operator takes the information and says she’s got an ambulance coming. Meanwhile, the nurse shows up and jabs a syringe into the girl’s thigh. She starts to look a little better immediately.

  I breathe a giant sigh of relief that she’s probably not going to die, and my heart rate slows down from a jackhammer to a bass drum. People have allergic reactions all the time, don’t they?

  I hear a siren wailing, and a few seconds later two EMTs in navy blue uniforms burst into the cafeteria. One is carrying a bag of supplies, and the other one has a stretcher.

  “Make room, people! We need all of you out of the way, now,” one of them hollers.

  Mrs. Atwood jumps up and starts herding the students away, and the medics take her place, checking the girl’s breathing and heart rate. I back up but stay close enough that I can still see the action. I’m morbidly curious, and I don’t know if it’s guilt or just voyeurism, but I can’t tear my eyes away.

  “What’s her name, ma’am?” one of the medics asks Mrs. Atwood, but she shakes her head.

  “KC,” I call out. “Smith, I think.”

  They load her onto the stretcher and carry her out of the cafeteria. I have to stop myself from following them. She’ll be okay, right?

  “Well, that was a little more intense than I was expecting.” Dylan nudges me, grinning, and I whirl around and glare at him.

  “Shut the hell up, Dylan!” I growl through clenched teeth. “If anybody finds out we did this, we’ll be dead!”

  He sticks his hands up in the air and backs up a step. “Chillax, dude. I’m not gonna say anything.”

  I want to believe him, but I worry that he might turn on me to save his own ass if they press him. Did anyone notice us in the cafeteria this morning? Maybe we should get our story straight, just in case.

  “Dylan, if anybody asks what we were doing in here earlier, tell them we were getting ketchup for our hash browns. Tell them the ketchup was just fine when we ate some this morning. Got it?” I whisper to him.

  “Yeah, sure. Of course.”

  The bell rings, and we both hurry out of there. The halls buzz with talk about what happened. Is it just my imagination, or is everyone looking at me? I had a bunch more pranks planned for this afternoon, but now I’m too freaked out to do any of them.

  “Jake, did you pull that prank? That was epic!” my friend Matt calls out to me from across the hallway.

  I scowl at him. “Not me, man.”

  “Really?” He looks shocked.

  “Yeah, I didn’t have anything to do with it.” I say it loud enough that everyone around me can hear it, and I keep moving.

  “Hey Jake, you owe me a hamburger!” somebody else hollers as I walk by.

  I shake my head and frown. “You got the wrong guy, man.” Damn, does everyone assume I did this?

  Austin comes up to me and thumps me on the chest. “Way to go, Jake! You just about killed the new girl.”

  I shove him away a little too forcefully. “Shut the hell up, Austin! I didn’t do it, okay?”

  He looks at me like l’ve gone crazy and puts a hand out in front of his girlfriend like he’s afraid I’m going to attack her. I run a hand through my hair and try to control my heavy breathing. If I don’t stay cool, I’m definitely gonna look guilty.

  “Sorry, I just don’t want to get in trouble for something that wasn’t my fault, you know?”

  “Yeah, I get it. I just assumed. Dylan said you had something awesome planned.”

  Of course he did. Why did I think I could trust him to stay quiet? Dylan is a total loudmouth. I wonder how many people he said that to.

  Maybe I should fess up to one of my other pranks instead. But now I’m worried about what I did with Mr. Dillard’s car. Was that illegal? If Mr. D wanted to pursue it, could the cops figure out who posted it? I decide to take it down and delete my account as soon as possible.

  “Yeah, I was gonna try to set off the sprinkler system and pull the fire alarm, but I don’t think I will. The office is probably gonna be on the warpath after what happened in the cafeteria.” I make up a story on the fly because Austin’s right — everyone expected something from me, so they’ll assume I’m responsible.

  Austin’s lip curls up, and he bobs his head. “I don’t blame you, but man, I wish you would. I’d really like to get out of 6th period.”

  “Maybe we all should’ve skipped today. Now that would’ve been a good April Fools’ joke.” I know I regret coming today.

  Austin tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. Maybe we can stage a walkout.”

  I would definitely like to get out of here, but I don’t want to risk drawing any more attention to myself. I shake my head. “Sorry, man. I can’t miss any more class or I’ll get detention.” It’s an excuse, but it’s probably true, anyway.

  An hour later, I wish I had left, though, because the office drops the hammer. Mr. Dillard calls an assembly during 5th period and sends us all to the cafeteria. It feels ominous in here, now, like somebody died or something. There’s just enough room at the tables for the students, so all the teachers line up around the walls like sentries.

  Mr. Dillard tromps up to the front of the room and claps his hands to get everyone to be quiet. The murmuring dies down pretty quickly.

  “Listen up, students. We have something very important to talk about. As most of you probably know, a student was hospitalized today. A new student — KC Smith. While we don’t have all the details yet, we believe it was a result of an allergic reaction to something that was put in the ketchup, presumably as an April Fools’ prank. According to the kitchen staff, there were many students who had adverse reactions.”

  Mr. Dillard scowls and claps his hands again when students start laughing and pointing fingers. “Quiet down! Student safety is no laughing matter! Obviously, this prank had much more serious consequences than the prankster probably intended, but regardless, it is never okay to do anything that puts the safety of others in jeopardy.”

  He pauses for a moment and starts walking back and forth, scanning the crowd like he’s looking for someone. I duck my head and shift in my seat so he can’t see me.

  “Now, I have my suspicions about who perpetrated this prank, and I’m going to give that student a chance to turn him— or herself in, with a promise of lighter consequences. If we don’t get a confession by the end of the day, we’ll be forced to start interviewing students until we get to the bottom of this. The more time it takes, the more severe the punishment will be when the responsible party is found.”

  That gets the crowd worked up, especially since prom is coming up soon. A couple heads turn my way, and I scowl at them and scrunch down lower.

  “I’m going to release you to return to class in a few minutes, but if anyone has any information after this, I’d like you to come talk to me or one of the guidance counselors. Your safety is too important for us to allow this kind of thing to happen.”

  “Is that girl gonna be okay?” somebody asks.

  “We don’t know yet. But it would be great if some of you would take the time to go visit her at the hospital. Let her know that most of the students at this school are decent human beings. ”

  Another wave of guilt washes over me. I didn’t mean to hurt anybody, I just wanted a laugh.

  Dillard releases us, and I take my time leaving the cafeteria, watching to see if anyone goes up to talk to him. I’m sure he suspects me since I have a reputation for pulling pranks, but he shouldn’t be able to pin it on me without any proof.

  I spend the next two hours on the edge of my seat, waiting to be called to the office. I’ve almost convinced myself I’m not going to be questioned and am finally starting to relax when the intercom squawks to life five minutes before the end of last period.

  “Please send Jake Matthews to the office.” The secretary’s monotone voice crackles like she’s an artificial intelligence robot wi
th a short in her wiring.

  I can feel my blood surging through my body as I stand up. The people around me start whispering — I can see their lips moving, but I can’t hear past my pulse pounding in my ears. They’re probably talking about how I’m about to get expelled.

  I pack up my stuff and head to the office, mentally practicing my story and wondering what the VP has already been told. Has he talked to Dylan? Did he cave and turn me in?

  “Have a seat. He’ll be with you in a minute.” Mrs. P, the secretary, peers over her monitor at me when I enter the office. I don’t need to tell her my name; I’ve been here enough she knows who I am.

  Normally, I’d hover around her desk and crack a joke or two while I wait, and she would shake her head at me but chuckle under her breath, but today I’m too nervous to think about anything but what’s going to happen once I get in there.

  I sit down in one of the waiting room style chairs squished together against the wall and try to get comfortable. The arm rests are too close together to put my arms on, but it feels awkward to hang my arms over them. I don’t know what to do with my legs, either. My normal man-spreading pose requires a little slouch that’s impossible with the chairs so close to the wall, but the chair arms don’t allow me to prop an ankle up on a knee, either. All I can do is press my arms against my body and sit up straight like a good posture diagram or something. Are these chairs purposefully designed to make you feel uncomfortable?

  When Dillard opens the door and calls me in, I jump up, relieved to get out of those chairs.

  I’ve spent a lot of time getting lectured by the vice principal over the years, but Mr. Dillard is new, so I don’t know him that well. My first response is to tell him the 80’s called and they want his polyester pants back, but the way he’s scowling I don’t think that would go over well, so I keep my mouth shut, instead.

  “Have a seat, Mr. Matthews.” He goes around to sit behind his desk, and I turn and sit in another one of those uncomfortable chairs.

  “I’ll cut to the chase, Son, since the day is almost over. Your name has come up a lot today. I’ve had half a dozen people in here who all suspect you were behind today’s tragic events. I’ve been told you’re a jokester who loves to pull this kind of prank. In fact, Ms. Lebo informed me that she sent you to the office today after you put fake vomit on her chair. Yet, this is the first time I’ve seen you today. So, what do you have to say for yourself?”

  I wince at the word tragic, but I also notice he didn’t say he had any evidence, just a lot of speculation. He’s trying to scare me into confessing, but I’m not that gullible.

  I shrug and try to act as innocent as possible. “I like a good prank, but I’m not into hurting people. I just like to make them laugh.” I ignore the comment about being sent to the office.

  He stands up and puts his hands on his desk, leaning over it, and he’s kind of intimidating despite his bad combover and ugly clothes. “So, you’re saying you had nothing to do with what happened in the cafeteria today?”

  I force myself to make eye contact and shake my head. He stares at me, and I wonder if he can sense that I’m lying. Do I have a tell? I refuse to look away, or swallow, or do anything except breathe as naturally as possible. Can he hear my heart pounding? It sounds awfully loud to me.

  Finally, the bell rings, and he looks away. I wipe my sweaty hands on my pants and move to get up, but he swings around the side of his desk and hovers over me. “You won’t have a problem with me searching your locker, then, will you?”

  I give a little smile, relieved that I was smart enough to get rid of the evidence. “No problem at all.”

  I get up, and Mr. Dillard follows me down the hall to my locker. Students are spilling out of the classrooms, making it hard to move, and everyone gawks at me. I put a big smile on my face and act like it’s perfectly normal to have the vice principal following me.

  When I get to my locker, I dial in the combination and pull the door open then hold my hands out like I’m Vanna White.

  Mr. Dillard cocks an eyebrow at me and starts rummaging around. My locker is kind of a disaster, so it’s not very easy for him to dig through it. After a cursory glance at the pile of books and papers on the bottom, he turns his attention to my bag.

  My fake puke is in there along with the stink spray and the bottle of food coloring. There’s also a whoopee cushion, some fake bugs, and a jar of Vaseline. He picks that up and stares at it for a minute, trying to figure out if it’s for a prank or a personal problem. He decides not to ask. Noticeably absent is any kind of hot sauce.

  Mr. Dillard huffs and slams my locker closed with a metal twang. “Let me see your jacket, Mr. Matthews.”

  I shrug and pull it off. He digs through all the pockets but comes up just as empty. He shoves the jacket back into my chest.

  “I’m giving you detention, Jake, for disturbing Ms. Lebo’s class. And if I find out you were behind the ketchup prank, you can bet the consequences will be a lot worse.”

  He turns and walks away, and a giant smile takes over my face. It looks like I’m going to get away with it. My smile falters as soon as I think about the girl again, though. What if she’s not okay?

  Chapter Four

  KC

  You might as well start planning my funeral, because I’m going to die.

  Not from the allergic reaction to hot sauce. As terrible as that was, it wasn’t lethal. But the humiliation of having to go back to that school after everyone saw me turn into a red, swollen, crazed lunatic is enough emotional trauma to kill a normal person, let alone someone who’s already been victimized.

  I can’t do it. I can’t go back there. I’d rather move to the middle of nowhere and take up pig farming than ever face humanity again. I’m seriously contemplating the possibility of this when the nurse raps on my doorframe and tells me I have some visitors.

  I assume it’s my parents or Lindsey since I don’t have any other friends at the moment, so I ignore my undoubtably horrible appearance and scoot myself up into a sitting position. I want to pull the covers over my head when two teen girls I’ve never seen before walk in.

  “Hi KC, I’m Kerri O’Connor, and this is my friend, Mia Black. We’re from West Bay High, and we wanted to see how you’re doing.”

  The one talking is a redhead with a face full of freckles wearing an oversized, Notre Dame sweatshirt and athletic leggings, and the other is an average-looking brunette in jeans and a Lakers tee. Neither one of them are anything like the people I used to hang out with. Maybe that’s a good thing.

  They look genuinely concerned, but I can’t figure out why. They don’t even know me.

  “Uh, hi.”

  “We feel really bad about what happened to you. That must’ve been a horrible first day.” The redhead plops on the bed like we’re best friends.

  “Yep, kinda sucked.” I sigh.

  “Are you okay? When are you coming back to school?”

  “Yeah, I’ll live, but if I have any say in it, I’m never coming back there. If they serve tacos, they’re liable to kill me.”

  The girls chuckle and smile at me, and I realize I’m kind of happy they came here even though I vowed not to make friends with anybody.

  “Well, the cafeteria food is pretty lousy, but they don’t usually try to poison people. That was just somebody playing a stupid April Fools’ prank.” The brunette rolls her eyes.

  “Yeah, Jake Matthews. We’ve met.” His name tastes sour on my tongue.

  Kerri’s big green eyes get even wider, and she glances at Mia. “The school hasn’t figured out who did it yet. What makes you think it was Jake?”

  She doesn’t insist it wasn’t him, but she doesn’t agree with me either, and I wonder if she’s friends with him.

  “Let’s just say he showed his true colors to me, and I know his type.” I scowl.

  Kerri and Mia exchange another meaningful glance.

  “Well, we’re sorry you had such a rough first day. Did you just move
here? April seems like a strange time to switch schools.” Mia tries to lighten the mood by changing the subject, but she doesn’t know that that one isn’t any better.

  I don’t want to tell her the truth, but I feel bad lying since they were nice enough to come here and visit me. “Let’s just say things weren’t going so great for me in my old school, and I needed a change.”

  They both get sympathetic looks on their faces and reach out to touch me, Kerri grabbing my hand and Mia putting her hand on my arm. Kerri sighs. “High school sure can suck, huh?”

  “You got that right.” I stare off into the distance, contemplating the unfairness of it all. All I wanted to do was lay low and avoid drama, but I couldn’t make it one day without being the butt of the joke.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Mia asks, and I scoff.

  “That’s pretty much the last thing I want to do.”

  We all get quiet for a minute, and I can tell they feel uncomfortable now. Maybe it’s for the best. I told myself I wasn’t going to get involved with anyone at this school, even if they seem really nice. My old friends seemed nice, too, until they turned on me.

  “Well, hey, you’re always welcome to hang out with us whenever you want, okay?” Kerri offers, getting up, and Mia nods.

  “Hope you feel better soon.” They wave and scurry out like I’ve scared them away with my morbid attitude. Oh well, I’m emo girl now, right?

  The hospital releases me on Thursday, the day after the incident, and my parents make me go back on Friday, so I don’t even have a few days to get over my humiliation. Even if I did, I’m pretty sure it would come right back, though, the minute I step through the school doors and see the stares I’m bound to get.

  I think about dropping the goth look and going for something more invisible, but I still think I’ll have better luck keeping people away if I dress like I want to be left alone.

  When I get to 1st period on Friday, I sit as far away from Jake Matthews’ normal spot as possible and vow to never talk to him again. But I’m still kind of irritated that he makes no effort to apologize to me. He just sits down and stares at me like he’s wondering why I exist. I’m wondering the same thing — about me and him.