by Adam Selzer
When I walked into the bookstore, I felt like a whole different person. Like the person I wanted to be. Partly because a lot of the older people there think it’s pretty fascinating that someone my age would want to join, and they’re all really nice to me. No one ever, ever tells me anything about what a great speller Val was when I’m there, and I know that they’d still like me even if I came in dead last at the bee.
“Hi, Jennifer!’ said Warren, one of the older guys who usually came to the meeting.
“Hi!” I said. Then David, Peter, and Greg, all of whom were older than my parents, waved and said hello to me.
They were having a rowdy argument, as usual. Believe it or not, there were times when the place was more like a wrestling match than a book club. This time, David was saying it was a well-established fact that the witch scenes in Macbeth were written by a guy named Thomas Middleton.
Most of the people agreed—David explained to me that writers in those days stole from each other all the time, including Shakespeare—but Horatio was furious at the very notion. He was calling David an “addlepated simpleton,” and I was afraid he was going to throw a chair at someone any minute. Horatio believes that Shakespeare didn’t write anything, and claims to have some sort of proof that it was really written by some guy who was a member of the Brickcutters.
Horatio is nuts, of course. But he starts some really super fights. And whether Shakespeare was really a writer (which he totally was) strikes me as a much better reason to get in a fight than whether to put a bee on a spelling bee poster.
I bought a muffin from the little café and sat down with my copy of Titus Andronicus, right next to a woman named Carol. She used to teach Shakespeare courses at the college in the city before she retired.
“Hi, Carol!” I said.
“Jennifer!” she said. “It’s always good to see you.”
People at most activities do not say “It’s always good to see you.” They usually greet you by saying “Let’s get to work, people!”
Remember how I was talking earlier about the person I want to be? Carol is a lot like that person—she even calls herself an “old hippie” sometimes. She knows everything. She lives in a tiny apartment in the city, even though I think she could afford a big house if she wanted one. She never wears socks, for some reason. And when I told her I hate going to activities just to pad my college application, she said, “So you want an education, not just a bunch of headlines to staple to your chest?” See? She totally gets it.
“I have a question,” I said to her. “Is it true that there weren’t really any spelling rules in Shakespeare’s day?”
“Sort of,” she said. “People sort of knew that there was a right and wrong way to spell things, but no one could really agree on what they were, and most people didn’t really care. They just figured that as long as people knew what they meant, it was good enough. Most people couldn’t read, anyway.”
So it was true. Mrs. Jonson wasn’t just trying to psych me out. That would mean that they didn’t have bees back then at all.
Come to think of it, I wonder how spelling bees got started. I mean, some guy must have said “You know what might be fun? Let’s get a bunch of people together and have them stand around spelling stuff!” What a nut that guy must have been.
“Well, enough about spelling,” I said. “Let’s talk about Shakespeare!”
I told her all about the stuff I’d been reading in the past week, and she cleared up a lot of the stuff I was confused about. Then we started in on the regular group discussion. It was like school, only so much better. The person leading the discussion didn’t have to tell anyone to stop chewing gum or take off their hat, even though some people were chewing gum and wearing hats. And when someone said a curse word, all the group leader did was cough and nod his head over in my direction, like he was saying “Hey! Kid in the room!” There was no threat of detention, no threat of being made to miss recess.
Sometimes things went over my head, but I didn’t mind. In fact, I liked it. It showed that they weren’t dumbing things down for me. And it didn’t matter if I wasn’t able to follow everything, because there wasn’t going to be a test or anything. I’d never get an extra picture in the yearbook or any extra credit for being there. I’d just be smarter.
Naturally, before the meeting was even over, my mother showed up to ruin it for me.
“Jennifer!” she shouted, using her outside voice indoors. “We have to leave.”
“Mom!” I said. “We still have half an hour left!”
“I know,” she said, looking really upset. “But we’re leaving. Come on, Jennifer.”
I sighed, rolled my eyes, and picked up my book.
Everyone there said “Good-bye,” even Horatio. I started to say it back, but my mother grabbed my wrist and started to drag me right out to the parking lot, like I was a five-year-old or something. I’ll bet hippies never drag their kids like that.
“What did I do?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “Not that I know of, anyway. It’s your father.”
“What’s wrong?” I had gotten so wrapped up in talking about Shakespeare that I’d actually forgotten what he was doing that night.
“He was caught breaking into the school. We have to go bail him out of jail.”
18
MUTUAL
origami—noun. The Japanese art of paper folding. Jason had to learn to do all sorts of origami tricks so that when he was caught folding his paper into an origami Bowie knife, he could make it look as though he were making an origami swan.
Since I did not leave the house the whole weekend, and we did not regularly receive newspapers, I did not know what had happened at Gordon Liddy Community School on Friday evening until Monday. I spent most of my weekend immersed in spelling, listening to the music of Paranormal Execution, and considering a career in the field of eating things for money. I had seen Jake Wells doing so in the cafeteria, and felt that it might be an excellent career for me, as well, if I ever got tired of being a spelling hustler.
So nothing prepared me for the scene I encountered when I arrived on Monday morning—the classroom was total chaos. People were shouting at each other and throwing things around.
Marianne Cleaver was pointing her finger at Jennifer Van Den Berg, shouting that she was a cheater.
Jennifer was sitting at her desk with her head down, looking as though she was crying. She was covering her ears with her hands and had curled her knees up onto her chest as Marianne shouted at her.
Tony Ostanek was standing on his desk, pointing at Amber Hexam and calling her a witch. Amber was responding by going cross-eyed and chanting something at Tony.
Jason, meanwhile, appeared to be coming to her defense by folding a sheet of paper into a four-pointed ninja star, which, he had told me, was the deadliest origami weapon known to man.
It was a riot!
This was what I had been expecting on my first day!
“What is going on?” I asked out loud.
Jake walked over to me. “Didn’t you hear?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
He pulled a newspaper out of his backpack and showed it to me.
It was dated Saturday morning.
BREAK-IN AT GORDON LIDDY
DID PRINCIPAL FLOREN KNOW?
PRESTON—Acting on an anonymous tip, authorities apprehended Mitchell VanDen Berg breaking into Gordon Liddy Community School on Friday night. VanDen Berg, whose daughter Jennifer is considered a strong contender at this year’s all-school spelling bee, now less than a week away, is believed to have been seeking the school’s master word list.
Dressed all in black, Van Den Berg was caught in the office at approximately 8 p.m., rooting through a file cabinet, having gained entrance to the school through a window he had broken. Apparently he did not realize that the front door of the school was actually unlocked.
“Beats me why he broke the darned window,” said Police Officer Jim Beadle, who teaches
children about the dangers of drug abuse as the leader of the school’s Just Say No Club. “If he had just shown up dressed as a plumber or something and walked through the front door, I wouldn’t have even pursued him. But when I saw a guy dressed like a burglar breaking a window, I obviously had to act.”
In a statement released hours later, Van Den Berg accused the school of having already supplied the wordlist to Marianne Cleaver, another top contender, and alleged that Jason “Skeleton” Keyes and Mutual Scrivener, a new student, had also acquired the master word list. Cleaver’s parents vehemently denied the accusation, as did Keyes’s. Scrivener’s parents could not be reached for comment.
Cleaver’s parents, in fact, suggested that Principal Floren may have known of or even authorized the break-in, which would explain why the door had been left unlocked, and how VanDen Berg had been able to access the filing cabinet in the first place.
Principal Floren has denied all charges, stating that he did not think to lock the door because locking up is normally the duty of Mrs. Rosemary, his secretary, who left earlier than he did Friday. Given the lack of evidence against him, the Preston police do not currently consider Principal Floren to be a suspect.
Van Den Berg was released on $500 bail, and has been charged with breaking, entering, and damaging school property. Since the word list he sought was not obtained, his daughter will still be allowed to enter the all-school bee. Officer Beadle describes her as a member in good standing of the Just Say No Club.
The master word list, however, remains missing.
As I was finishing the article, Jason finished his paper ninja star and threw it at Tony to protect Amber. It missed him and landed on Jake’s desk.
Just then, Mrs. Boffin arrived in the room.
“Good morning, class,” said Mrs. Boffin. This time, though, nobody said anything in response. Even Marianne was still too busy shouting at Jennifer, who had not looked up.
Mrs. Boffin began banging on her desk with a ruler until everyone finally quieted down. “I said, ‘Good morning, class!’” she said, a little more loudly than before.
“Good morning, Mrs. Boffin,” I said, along with Marianne.
“I will hear no more of this shouting!” shouted Mrs. Boffin. “No one in this class had anything to do with the unpleasant activities of Friday evening, and other than the broken window, no harm was done.”
“Then what happened to the master word list?” asked Marianne. “It was missing from the school!”
“That will be enough, Marianne,” said Mrs. Boffin. “There is to be no more shouting, no more fighting, and no more accusations of cheating or sabotage.”
Everything calmed down for a moment, until she looked over at Jake Wells.
“Jake,” she asked, “what’s that on your desk?”
“I don’t know, Mrs. Boffin,” he said, looking down at it.
Mrs. Boffin walked over to him. “A four-pointed ninja star!” she said, looking down at the star Jason had thrown. “Don’t you realize that this is in flagrant violation of our zero-tolerance weapons policy?”
“I didn’t make it, Mrs. Boffin!” said Jake.
“Then what is it doing on your desk?” she asked. “Jake, you are to report to the office at once!”
“But I didn’t make it!” Jake shouted.
“Then who did?” she asked.
“I did it,” said Jason, standing up. “I made the ninja star. Tony Ostanek was threatening Amber, so I threw it at him, and it landed on Jake’s desk.”
“Amber’s a witch!” Tony shouted out. “And probably Marianne, too!”
“No!” shouted Harlan. “Marianne’s not a witch, she’s a robot!” Harlan almost seemed to be enjoying the scene.
“Enough!” shouted Mrs. Boffin. “Jason, gather your things and go to the office at once! The rest of you, stay in your seats. We did not come here to fight today. We did not come here to accuse each other of cheating, sabotage, or witchcraft. We came to discuss Vasco da Gama, the first explorer to sail around the southern tip of Africa and go all the way to India, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do!”
Jason gathered up his backpack and bravely began walking toward the door.
Amber was starting to cry. “I’ll wait for you, Jason!” she shouted.
He turned back, winked at her, and walked out the door. I believe that was the first romantic act I had ever witnessed in my life.
Gunther opened his mouth, as though he was about to make fun of them, but Harlan shushed him. Even he, as class clown, understood the gravity of what we had just witnessed. It was not an event to be laughed at.
“Jake,” said Mrs. Boffin. “You still have to go to the office, too.”
“But I didn’t make the star!” he said.
“It was on your desk,” she said sternly. “And possession is nine-tenths of the law. I will leave your fate in the hands of the office. Go.”
Looking like he was about to cry, Jake stood up and picked up his backpack.
As he stepped away from his desk, Harlan began to clap for him, shouting, “Go get ’em, Jake! We know you didn’t do it!” Then Tony joined in, followed by Chrissie. Soon half of the class was applauding Jake as though he had just eaten a turnip covered in pickle juice, hot sauce, and the strange substance that the cafeteria called Santa Fe dressing.
“Enough!” Mrs. Boffin said, as Jake disappeared into the hallway.
“That isn’t fair, Mrs. Boffin!” shouted Chrissie.
“These are the rules, Chrissie,” said Mrs. Boffin.
“But it isn’t fair!” she said. “What’s going to happen to them?”
“That will be up to Principal Floren,” said Mrs. Boffin. “And questioning his conduct is against the rules for students, too, Chrissie. So I suggest you just maintain faith that the system works and forget about it! Now, let us begin discussing Vasco da Gama!”
It took a moment for me to digest all that I had just seen. Jason had just broken a school rule to protect Amber, and then offered himself up for possible expulsion to keep Jake out of trouble. Even though he had failed to clear Jake’s name, it had been a very noble thing to try. He always told me that he was corrupt, but now I was not sure that he was corrupt at all.
Amber sat in the desk next to mine, quietly saying, “He’s so brave!” over and over.
As Mrs. Boffin spoke about the explorers, I felt as though I were hearing “Hero’s Journey,” one of my favorite Paranormal Execution songs, playing in my head, but it had nothing to do with the voyage of Vasco da Gama.
19
CHRISSIE
Excerpt from notebook #32: Jake has ended up in trouble for things that were not his fault 10 11 12 13 times….
Detectives aren’t supposed to get their emotions involved in a case. But you can’t always help it when you see the look on a victim’s face.
And as long as I live, I’ll never forget the look on Jennifer’s face Monday morning. She was so red, you’d have thought she must have been really embarrassed—I mean, it was the kind of red you’d think could only be achieved by someone who had just been caught dancing naked in the cafeteria. But her eyes were just as red as her face, which meant that she hadn’t just been embarrassed, she’d also been crying.
Right away, I told her how sorry I was—she and I both knew who the anonymous tipster who had told the police that someone was breaking in that night had been. I told her I had never meant for them to arrest him. I thought they’d just catch him on the grounds, and he’d say, “Oh, I was just here to look at the flowers” or something, and leave. Or that he’d see the cops on the premises, chicken out, and leave. I didn’t count on him to dress up like a burglar and break a window.
Jennifer said it wasn’t my fault, that what I was hoping for was what she had thought would happen, too. She said it was her dad’s own fault for breaking the window instead of going through the door like a normal person. But I still felt bad. And as soon as Marianne arrived and started shouting, Jennifer started ba
wling.
It was Marianne who started the riot in the classroom on Monday morning. It was her shouting that made Tony pick up the cue and start shouting at Amber and calling her a witch. And it was that that made everyone else start shouting at everyone else. Marianne should have been the one suspended. Sure, Jason had thrown the paper star at Tony, but it was only to defend Amber’s honor—it wasn’t the best idea, but he was only trying to stick up for a girl that he liked. And Jake certainly shouldn’t have been in trouble—he hadn’t done a thing. And everyone knew it.
They were in serious trouble, too. Neither of them was very good at spelling. That meant that they’d be punished as harshly as Floren could manage.
Something was rotten at Gordon Liddy Community School. I still hadn’t figured everything out, but Principal Floren was certainly cheating at the bee by giving Mutual the word list, and I was still guessing that it was Mrs. Boffin who was behind the break-in. I just didn’t have the proof yet.
But one thing I did know was that I had to act. As far as I was concerned, if the school was messing with one of us, they were messing with all of us. If keeping the students from cheating and sabotaging each other was my job, then it was also my job to protect students from injustice. I understood that now.
This wasn’t about my quest to know everything about everyone anymore. It wasn’t about upholding law and order in exchange for extra cookies and a permanent hall pass. It wasn’t about stupid and pointless rules that didn’t make sense and did more harm than good. This was about truth, justice, and democracy. Three things that didn’t exist at Gordon Liddy Community School. Not anymore.
There was a time, not long before, when I would have been glad that Jason and Jake were in trouble. I would have tried to get other people in trouble, too. But now I knew better.
An hour went by, and Jason and Jake still hadn’t come back from the office. I hated to think what might be happening to them, and I decided it was all up to me to make things right—even if it cost me everything else I had worked for. I owed it to them. I’d gotten them in trouble plenty of times before. It was time I started my work protecting them from the school.
