I Put a Spell on You

by Adam Selzer

  While Mrs. Boffin was writing about Vasco da Gama on the marker board with her back turned on the rest of the class, I moved over to Jason’s desk, then asked Amber to switch spots with me so I could sit right next to Mutual. She agreed. When she sat down, she started pulling things out of Jason’s desk and holding them up to her chest.

  Boffin kept writing, and I leaned over to Mutual.

  “Do you have that list Floren gave you?” I asked.

  “How do you know about that?” he whispered, with his eyes as wide as a couple of dinner plates behind his glasses.

  “I know everything that goes on here,” I said. “What was on the list?”

  “I am not supposed to talk about it,” he said.

  “It’s all right,” I said, flashing my permanent hall pass. “Floren trusts me with these things. I’m sort of in charge of keeping order around here. Can you show me the list?”

  He looked at the hall pass for a second, then said, “Well, okay. But I do not have it with me. I have hardly looked at it.”

  “Can you bring it tomorrow?” I asked.

  He nodded. I would have liked to have had it in my possession to wave in Floren’s face, but I’d just have to get Jake and Jason out of trouble without it.

  I flashed my pass at Mrs. Boffin and marched out of the room into the office. Jake and Jason were sitting in chairs against the wall. Jake had clearly been crying. Jason was trying really hard to look like he hadn’t.

  “Chrissie!” Mrs. Rosemary said when she saw me. “I figured we’d be hearing from you today. Do you have any information?”

  “I need to speak to Principal Floren immediately,” I said.

  “Go right in,” she told me.

  I walked past, giving Jason and Jake a nod and a wink as I passed them.

  Inside his office, Floren looked like he hadn’t slept all weekend.

  “Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” he said. “We’re in a regular mess over this whole break-in. I’m sure you have some information that we can use, right?”

  “Not that you can use,” I said. “I’m here to bargain for the release of Jason Keyes and Jake Wells.”

  “I’m afraid that can’t be done,” said Floren. “The media has been hounding me all weekend. People are saying I had something to do with the break-in. Or that I can’t keep control of what goes on here. They’re saying I can’t keep the students safe! Do you realize what that means?”

  “It means they don’t know the half of it,” I said calmly.

  “No! It means my job is in serious trouble!” he said. “I have to show that the safety of the students is one of my top priorities! Even suspicion of the use of a weapon cannot be allowed, and that includes a paper ninja star. It’s unfortunate, but I had to make an example out of them. People are starting to say I’m not a good enough principal. If I want to look like a winner, I have to beat somebody. And I’m beating the troublemakers. That makes me a peacemaker.”

  “What’s going to happen to them?” I asked.

  “Well, since he isn’t known to have thrown the star, Jake will probably just be suspended for two weeks,” said Floren. “Jason, however, is facing expulsion. If he pleads guilty, he might just be suspended for the rest of the year, but it’s in the hands of the school board.”

  I stared at him, and he stared at me. It was like in one of those cop movies where the good-guy cop has to confront the sheriff that he knows is taking bribes from the bad guys. Except that the sheriffs in those movies always sound like they’re from Texas, and I’m pretty sure Principal Floren was born here in Preston.

  “I think,” I said, “that it’s in your best interest to issue a pardon.”

  “What are you talking about?” he said.

  “I’ve seen the surveillance footage,” I said. “I know you gave Mutual a word list. And if you don’t want the whole town to know about it, you’ll issue a pardon to both of them.”

  “Chrissie!” he said. “How did you get that disc?”

  “Never mind,” I said.

  “I should have guessed. You’re the one who has the master word list, aren’t you?”

  “My object in taking it was merely to prevent Mr. Van Den Berg from taking the list. I had to do something when you didn’t respond to the tip I gave you about him breaking in.”

  “I don’t understand this,” he said. “We’ve always trusted you. And now you’re blackmailing me?”

  I had never, ever used any of my data to blackmail anyone before. But things were different now. Gordon Liddy had gone berserk.

  “Don’t act like you’re the one that’s been betrayed!” I said. “My job was to uphold law and order and make sure the spelling bee was a fair contest. And it turns out that there was no law or order to uphold. Now, do we have a deal, or don’t we?”

  He sat for a second, looking over at the portrait of Abraham Lincoln that hung on the wall. “Deal,” he said, finally.

  “That’s not all,” I said. “Besides the pardon, I want you to guarantee me the seat behind the sound equipment at the spelling bee.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “I have my reasons,” I said, thinking of Harlan’s quest to belch on the microphone. I hadn’t decided to help him for sure yet, but this was my last chance to be prepared. “That’s the deal. I get the soundboard seat, Jason and Jake go free, and I don’t turn the disc of you giving Mutual the list over to the newspapers today.”

  He sat staring for a second. I tried not to smirk.

  “It’s a deal,” he said. “But all of the privileges we’ve granted you are hereby revoked, including your permanent hall pass.”

  “It’s all meaningless now, anyway,” I said. “I’ll expect Jason and Jake back in class within five minutes.”

  And I dropped my pass on his desk and walked out the door.

  I didn’t work for the school anymore.

  I worked for the students.

  20

  INTEROFFICE MEMO

  FROM: Principal Floren

  TO: Mrs. Boffin

  CC: Mrs. Rosemary

  In light of the fact that paper is not currently considered a weapon, Jake Wells and Jason Keyes are hereby granted a full pardon by executive order of Richard M. Floren, Principal.

  INTEROFFICE MEMO

  FROM: Principal Floren

  TO: All staff

  Please note that by executive order, Chrissie Woodward’s permanent hall pass has been revoked, along with all extra privileges she has heretofore been granted. Since her services are no longer being utilized, it will be up to all of us to keep an eye on Harlan Sturr, Jason Keyes, and any other student suspected of planning to cheat at the spelling bee on Friday. The police have turned down my request to station three officers around the school at all times.

  INTEROFFICE MEMO

  FROM: Mrs. Rosemary

  TO: Principal Floren

  The assault was with a four-pointed ninja star, the deadliest of origami weapons, not with a sheet of paper. Are you sure that the pardon is wise?

  INTEROFFICE MEMO

  FROM: Principal Floren

  TO: Mrs. Rosemary

  While four-pointed ninja stars are certainly deadly, we have no proof that it was used in an assault, and they are not currently listed as weapons. I am taking steps to close this loophole. In the meantime, my authority as principal grants me the power to issue pardons such as these. I have determined that neither Wells nor Keyes poses an actual threat to the other students or to the spelling bee. The best thing is to put the matter behind us.

  INTEROFFICE MEMO

  FROM: Principal Floren

  TO: All staff

  Two students involved in an attempted assault with a four-pointed paper ninja star escaped punishment today due to a loophole in school policy. I have drafted a request to the school board recommending changes that will close the loophole. Should my proposal be granted, sheets of hard-cornered notebook paper, which can be folded into the deadly weapons in question, will be considered
contraband under our zero-tolerance weapons policy. Only rounded-edge paper, which is more difficult to craft into a deadly weapon, will be permitted, and the only allowable type of paper will be construction paper, which is less likely to give students a paper cut. Keeping our students safe must be our top priority.

  INTEROFFICE MEMO

  FROM: Mrs. Boffin

  TO: Mrs. Rosemary

  First of all, why did he think they could position three police officers around the school at all times? There are only three police officers on the local squad to begin with! Second of all, do they even make rounded-corner construction paper? Has he gone mad?

  INTEROFFICE MEMO

  FROM: Mrs. Rosemary

  TO: Mrs. Boffin

  Of course they make rounded-cornered construction paper. Richard M. Floren’s authority as principal is total, and he remains the leader of our school. I advise you not to question his sanity. The fiasco this weekend has him under untold stress, after all.

  INTEROFFICE MEMO

  FROM: Frank Ruggles, Janitor

  TO: All staff

  I need to encourage all staff to be vigilant in a crackdown against spitting on campus. Since Friday evening, there has apparently been a rash of spitting in the hallways and on the grounds. Cleaning up these “loogeys,” as the students call them, is preventing me from performing my usual custodial duties. Any student seen spitting in the hallways should be sent to the office at once. Please inform your students that this will not be tolerated.

  INTEROFFICE MEMO

  FROM: Principal Floren

  TO: All staff

  Just a reminder that, especially in these troubled days, no visitor is allowed on school grounds without a permit. No exceptions are to be made, not even for little old ladies. If you see any visitor without a visible guest pass, including old ladies, please attempt to apprehend them and call the police. Security will be especially tight on Friday for the spelling bee—all visitors and members of the press will be required to display their passes at all times. No exceptions!

  INTEROFFICE MEMO

  FROM: Mrs. Rosemary

  TO: All staff

  Wonderful news! I have just received a call from Agnes Milhous of the Burger Baron. She and the co-owner, Helen Bernowski, have offered to cater the spelling bee free of charge. Each staff member is to receive a free lunch on Friday, along with each contestant!

  21

  JENNIFER

  omphaloskepsis—noun. The act of contemplating one’s navel. If they had omphaloskepsis competitions, Marianne would make it her business to become the champion.

  When I left for school on Monday, it was the first time I’d been out of my bedroom since we’d bailed Dad out. Mom and Dad hadn’t been able to get me to come downstairs. I didn’t want to talk to either of them just then, and I sure as heck didn’t want to go to any activities. So I stayed in my room, eating the sandwiches I let them bring in, reading Shakespeare and imagining I lived far, far away. Someplace that wasn’t as depressing and lonely as Preston. Some nice woods full of hippies playing guitars and singing about rainbows where I could hang out during the day, and a little apartment in the city above a theater where I could hear the show every night if I put my ear to the floor.

  The Shakespeare play I studied most over the weekend was Richard III, a play about an ugly duke who lies, cheats, and murders his way into being king. He reminded me a lot of my dad right about then. Only at least the duke was going for something big, like being a king. My dad was just trying to cheat his way into getting his daughter an unfair advantage in a school spelling bee.

  Mom tried to talk to me a little bit through the door, but I told her to go away. She was probably just trying to get me to come out and go to the recycling club, anyway.

  I finally got out of my room to go downstairs on Monday morning before school. Mom gave me a big cup of hot chocolate, which made up things a bit on her end. Hot chocolate doesn’t solve all of life’s problems, but I’d say it comes pretty close.

  Dad was on the phone, screaming to someone that he’d been framed, and that I was the only one NOT cheating. Then he yelled that I was going to take first place anyway.

  I spent most of Monday morning at school with my head down on my desk—I knew Marianne was shouting horrible things at me, but I tried to just tune her out. I was used to tuning the rest of the world out, of course, and I was pretty good at it, but this really put me to the test.

  At first I tried to put every bit of my energy into staring at my belly button, but that didn’t work for long, so I ended up spending most of the morning distracting myself by trying to remember all of the opening speech from Richard III. That worked pretty well.

  I wasn’t able to shut myself off enough not to notice what was going on with Jason and Jake, though.

  After they were sent away, there was this energy in the class that I think everyone must have been able to feel. We’d all been in class together for so many years that it was almost like we were a family. Even though we had been fighting a lot that morning, when something like that happened, it was like it happened to all of us. I really think that if Jason and Jake hadn’t been back in class before lunch, there would have been some sort of rebellion or something. Like we all would have stormed the office and taken over the school. I would have been proud to join in.

  But after Jason and Jake were pardoned and let back into class, things calmed down quite a bit. I was able to enjoy my food at lunch—after a weekend of living on bologna sandwiches, even the three-bean casserole from the hot lunch tasted pretty good, and that’s saying something. Normally the stuff tastes like shampoo. Jake sat next to me, wolfing it down with gusto.

  “I’m glad they let you go,” I said to him.

  “Me too!” he said. “Sorry about what happened to your dad. Everyone knows you had nothing to do with it. Everyone but her, anyway.” He motioned his head at Marianne, who had brought her dictionary to lunch with her.

  “It’s all right.” I sighed. “I’m glad he didn’t get the word list, at least. I wouldn’t want to have it.”

  “I just hope you really clobber Marianne on Friday,” Jake said. “You know, she has never once given me a dollar to eat anything.”

  I made it through the rest of the day feeling a lot better, and that night at home, I even went downstairs. I was still trying to avoid Dad, but I figured that at least getting arrested would probably calm him down a little.

  Naturally, I was wrong.

  I was just finishing dinner when there was a knock at the door. I went to open it, and found James and Darlene Cleaver, Marianne’s parents, standing on the porch.

  “Jennifer,” said Mr. Cleaver. He gave me a dirty look, and I gave him one back. I mean, it was my DAD who had broken in—not me. Looking at ME like that was uncalled for.

  “We’d like to come in, please,” said Mrs. Cleaver.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not supposed to let strangers in.”

  “We’re not strangers,” said Mrs. Cleaver. “We’re Marianne’s parents. Step aside, please.”

  And with that, they walked right past me into the house.

  “Wait!” I shouted, following them toward the kitchen, where my parents were sitting. I was pretty sure that they were breaking the law by just charging in like that.

  “James!” my father shouted, standing up as though he was ready for a fistfight.

  “Mitchell!” said Mr. Cleaver.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” asked my father. “Charging onto my property without permission? You’re trespassing!”

  “That’s funny coming from you,” said Mr. Cleaver. “Imagine! Mitchell Van Den Berg, telling people not to break into a place!”

  “I’m warning you, James,” said Dad. “I know kung fu!”

  “Let’s just make this quick,” said Mr. Cleaver. “We want Jennifer out of the bee.”

  “Never!” Mom shouted. “You’ll have to kill us first!”

  “No!” I shouted. “N
obody has to kill anybody!”

  “Jennifer, stay out of this!” my father shouted. “This doesn’t concern you.”

  “Yes it does!” I shouted. “It’s all ABOUT me!”

  But no one listened. Why should they? I was just a new kind of cola to be marketed to colleges. No one cares what cola thinks.

  “Enough!” said Dad. “You have a lot of nerve, Cleaver! You don’t see us asking you to pull Marianne out, even though everyone knows she has the master word list!”

  “Lies!” shouted Mr. Cleaver. “You just can’t handle the fact that our Marianne is a genius!”

  “Genius shmenius!” shouted Mom. “I’ll bet they put her in remedial math in high school!”

  Mrs. Cleaver screamed and lunged at Mom, grabbing for her hair. Dad jumped forward and grabbed Mr. Cleaver by the suspenders.

  “Stop!” I shouted. “Everyone stop!” I grabbed the nearest frying pan and spoon I could find and started banging away.

  Everyone paused in their tracks for just a second and turned to look at me.

  “Can’t we work this out without fighting?” I asked.

  They paused for one more second, then went back to fighting.

  I ran up to my room to hide. Ten minutes later the shouting stopped, and I heard the Cleavers’ car driving away.

  “Jennifer!” Dad shouted. “Come down here, please.”

  I stepped back out of my room and wandered downstairs. The kitchen looked as though a tornado had come through it. The cookware was all over the floor. The kitchen table was overturned. There was a lot of broken glass in evidence. I really, really hoped that no one had slashed anyone with a broken bottle. There was no blood around, at least. I guess Dad didn’t use all of the combat training he’s always bragging about having gotten in military school. Or maybe they did about as good a job teaching him to fight as they did teaching him to sneak into buildings.