The bullying was short-lived, for Wily’s own little brother was being bullied by someone bigger and beefier, and when Wily confronted him in front of most of the school, he was nearly beaten senseless. It was then that Peter stepped in to help, to the surprise of everyone, even Mental Chris, as the beef bully was known. Although nobody really knew why he was called that, for as far as they had seen, he was never really that mental.
The two former adversaries lay on the ground, both with bleeding noses and black eyes, Peter’s left and Wily’s right. At first as they lay there, the pain was not that bad; it was only as they made their way to the nurse’s office that the pain began to set in, as though their wounds knew exactly where they were headed. When they reached the office of Nurse Paula Heeler, Peter knocked lightly three times, and when no answer came, he lifted his fist again, ready to knock a little harder.
“Come in,” said the nurse loudly, as to be sure they heard her. They did as she said and were greeted by Nurse Heeler, who did her best to muster the biggest smile on her pretty rounded face as she could as they trampled their muddy shoes over her clean floor. As her eyes fell on them, the big smile faltered. “Goodness what happened? Look at the pair of you. You’ve been fighting again, then?” she said sternly.
“No,” they said at the same time, making it sound like one voice.
“Then who?” said Nurse Heeler
“We can’t say,” said Peter, who hated telling on anyone.
“And why not?” asked the nurse.
“Because -” Peter could not think of anything to tell her to make her stop with the stupid questions.
“Because,” said Wily out of the blue, “the one that did it said that he would come after us again if we told anyone.”
“Oh he did, did he? Well, I’ll have to inform the principal of what has happened,” she said as she started to wipe the blood from Peter’s face. “And he will most likely call your parents to inform them.”
“No,” exclaimed Wily. “My mum will go mad if you call her at work.”
“Well, I’m sorry but there’s no other way. Your mum doesn’t get out of work until after school, and by that time it would be way too late, and it is the principal’s duty to inform the parent of any trouble,” said the nurse.
“Call my mum, she’ll call Mrs. Walters, she’ll call her as soon as she gets home,” said Peter.
They did call Helen, and she and Berlanin (who had just started a three day holiday to do a little work on the house) went to see “what the heck those teachers are playing at,” which, of course, were Helen’s words. As they headed for the principal’s office, they accidentally ran into Mr. Weavger, who was on his way to class.
“Good evening, Helen, Ben,” said the teacher.
“I can’t believe you have the bloody balls to call us by our first names after what you’ve done to our son. It’s Mr. and Mrs. Lince to you,” said Helen who had changed her last name after remarrying, and the guilt she felt for that alone was pretty bad. She thought that she was betraying John memory in some way.
However, it was Peter who helped her. He kept his birth name, but not out of spite at his mother marrying someone else. In truth, Berlanin was the only real father that Peter had ever known, and he was happy and happy for them. Peter never really knew why he kept the name Stark; all he knew was that for some reason, he felt connected to it in a way that he was never able to explain.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” lied Weavger.
Berlanin was pleasantly surprised at her restraint. He was sure she would have lifted something and lobbed it at him by know. He took Helen by the arm and took a few steps away from Weavger and said, “Helen, why don’t you go on, and I’ll join you in a little while.”
“I’m sorry, but I have to get to class,” said the teacher.
“I’m sure you can spare a few moments,” said the Wizard. “Please go on and see the principal. I think the last thing we need is for you to be guilty of manslaughter,” he whispered to Helen.
Helen threw him a look as though to say very funny, though she did as she was asked, but not before giving Weavger the dirtiest look in the history of the human race.
Berlanin and Mr. Weavger had only talked for about five or six minutes when the vice principal, Herbert Leer, joined them. He had heard their raised voices and decided to investigate.
“So what makes you think you can treat our son the way you do?” asked Berlanin, who was so sorry that he had left his wand at home.
Mr. Leer put up his hand in protest. “Please Mr. Lince -”
“Was I talking to you? I don’t think so. So why don’t you shut up and mind your own business!” said Berlanin loudly. “Weren’t you told about my son needing a little more help in class than others?”
“Yes,” replied Weavger, “I was informed about it. But I personally think that Peter (Weavger only called Peter by his first name when talking to adults. Any other time as you probably have seen he calls him by his surname) is either looking for attention or he’s too lazy to do the work. Because, he doesn’t seem slow to me at all. In fact, he’s smart, and I admire that quality in anyone. And there are times when he uses those smarts, although very rarely. That’s the reason I push him a little harder than the other teachers. Not out of dislike, but to help him realize his true potential.”
Berlanin was almost convinced by the complements that Weavger was throwing, but there was one thing that stuck in his mind. It was something that he said in the sentence before the last. “I push him a little harder,” Berlanin felt like laughing out loud, for the two teachers had not caught on to it. For Mr. Weavger had denied that he had been too hard on Peter in the past, but now he had openly admitted it, not just to the Wizard, but also to the vice principal.
“So now you’re saying you do push Peter harder than you do the other students,” said the deputy Grand Wizard, a wry smile slowly showing itself as both teachers finally caught on to his meaning.
Weavger’s face went blank as he remembered his own damning words.
“Do you or do you not shout at my son for things you let other children get away with?”
“Yes I do shout at him.”
“Then I’ll say this just once. Don’t ever shout at my son unless you have a damn good reason for it. I’m warning you, don’t even think about causing him grief, or I’ll be up here so fast I’ll go though you for a short cut.” Because of Mr. Weavger’s arrogance, Berlanin’s anger was oozing out of every word.
“I don’t know where you think you are or who you think you are, but this is a school, and we don’t take kindly to threats, Mr. Lince,” said vice principal Leer.
Berlanin paid no attention. He turned on his heel and made his way to the principal’s office.
Those were just some of the events leading up to Peter’s situation.
Now Weavger had just knocked on the principal’s door.
“Come in,” said a voice from the room beyond.
Chapter Twelve
The Teacher’s Telling Off
Weavger, in his enthusiasm to get Peter out of his hair once and for all, threw the door open so quickly it hit the wall.
“Go on. What are you waiting for?” he said.
Peter by this time could see the joy in the teacher’s eyes.
“Well, what’s this, Alistair?” asked Principal Holmes.
“It seems that Mr. Stark his no respect for his classes or school property,” said Weavger gleefully.
“Is that so?” said the principal. “What exactly did he do?”
“No, that’s a lie,” exclaimed Peter.
“If you don’t mind I was talking to the principal,” said Weavger as the sly smile he had continued to deepen.
“Please, Peter, let Mr. Weavger finish and then you can give your account on the matter,” said the principal. “Please go on Alistair.”
“He was deliberately late for his first class, which was Mr. Haster’s, and then he was also deliberately late
for his second class, which was my own. And when I found him in the hallway, he had used something to put a hole the size of a fist in one of the lockers,” said Weavger hastily, the excitement clearly becoming too much for him.
“And what was used to cause this damage?”
“I don’t know; he wouldn’t tell me.”
The principal then turned his attention to Peter. “Well, Peter, it’s your turn to tell your side of the story,” said Principal Holmes, whose facial expression and voice had both suddenly turned serious.
Peter knew that it didn’t matter what he said, for it was his word against the teacher’s, and he doubted the principal would even listen.
“Well?” said Principal Holmes.
“Does it matter?” asked Peter.
“Well, you are the only one who knows what was used to damage the locker, so please do tell,” said the principal. “And remember that it will go better for you if you tell the truth and tell where you put your chosen tool.”
“I knew it. You don’t even care if I’m innocent. You believe what he has to say, no matter what it is,” said Peter, clearly hurt by the principal’s lack of faith in him, even though he really had damaged the locker. “And let’s get one thing straight. The reason I was late for Mr. Haster’s class was because I was talking to someone on the way in and forgot to get my books from my locker. So obviously I had to go back to get them, right? I mean, what’s the use of showing up to class with no books?”
“Yes, but when I caught you late for the second time, you didn’t have any books,” said Weavger.
“Please, Alistair. You’ve had your say,” said Principal Holmes, obviously annoyed by the interruption. “Now let him finish. There’s plenty of time to go over everything afterwards.”
“Where was I?” said Peter, trying to sound distressed and look upset by what was happening, and he was pulling it off nicely. “Oh, yeah. The reason that I was late the second time was because I got some shocking news, and as I went to class, I realized that again I’d forgotten my books and went to go back. That’s when I saw the locker, which was already damaged, and that’s my side of it.”
“And what was the shouting for?” Weavger said sudden. His face lit up again after he saw the dazed look on Peter’s face.
There was a short pause.
“’God, you’re an idiot,’” said Mr. Weavger calmly. “That’s what you shouted.”
“Are you protecting someone?” asked the principal earnestly. “If so it would be better to say so. It’s nice that you would stand up for your friends like this, but it would be foolish for you to take the blame if this friend isn’t going to have the decency to turn himself in to help you.”
“No,” said Peter, “I was talking to myself. That’s when I realized I forgot my books.”
“Alistair, what happened to your arm?” asked the principal.
The sleeves of Mr. Weavger’s white shirt were purposely rolled up to reveal his forearms. His right arm was bruised at the wrist, a little just above the elbow.
“When I tried to bring him here, he attacked me,” said Weavger, rubbing his arm to provoke as much sympathy as possible.
“THAT’S A LIE! YOU ATTACKED ME!” shouted the young man. “YOU GRABBED ME BY THE ARM AND SQUEEZED TIGHTLY THEN YOU TRIED TO PULL ME DOWN THE HALL! AND THAT’S WHEN I GRABBED YOUR WRIST IN SELF DEFENCE. YOU STUMMBLED AND FELL AGAINST THE WALL!”
“DON’T TELL YOUR LIES HERE, BOY! TELL THE TRUTH FOR ONCE!” shouted Weavger in retaliation.
“That’s enough both of you,” said Principal Holmes, not as loudly but just loud enough to get their attention. “It seems that we have a difference of opinion. The question is, what to do now?”
“Personally, I think the solution is clear enough,” said Weavger. “Given Mr. Stark’s record, I think expulsion is the only way to deal with this problem. Plus, it would set an example for the other students.”
“I take that sort of thing under very serious consideration, Alistair, as you well know. And I won’t just expel a student without a witness to back up what you have told me,” the principal insisted.
“Are you implying that I would lie about something like this?” seethed Weavger. “Just look at his record. Go on, that’ll tell you all you need to know.”
“I’m sure that you would never lie about this sort of thing. But you must understand that I can’t just go by what you say. It wouldn’t be fair. I know what this young man’s record consists of. I’ve already read it a number of times,” said the headmaster. “I know you’re right; he has done some things I could have taken him out of the school for. However, I would like to speak to his parents before taking such action. I will suspend you until I come to a decision on the matter,” he said to Peter. He picked up his pen and wrote something on a small piece of paper. “Please give this to your mother or father.”
Peter leaned forward reached out and took it.
Weavger stormed out of the office.
“Now go on home, son. Your suspension starts as soon as leave this office. Oh, and tell your mother and father that they can come to see me as soon as they like,” Holmes said to Peter. “And don’t worry. There will be a full investigation into the matter. You will get a fair chance.”
A full investigation? Peter didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Thank you,” he said as earnestly as he could. “I’m sorry for what I said before; I didn’t mean to say that you would -”
“That’s okay, Peter. You were obviously distraught. Now remember what I said about your parents coming to see me whenever they want.”
“Yes, I think they’ll be here as soon as possible,” retorted Peter.
“That’s good.”
Peter left the office and the school as fast as he could. He jumped onto his skateboard and was on his way home.
His meeting with the principal had taken longer than he thought, and it was noon by the time he reached Weston Road. He stopped at the gate, pushed down the back of his skateboard with his foot and caught the top as it jumped up to meet his hand. As he went to push in the code to open the gate, his hand turned transparent and went straight through the number panel. He jumped back and cried out in astonishment and shock. “What kind of magic is that?” he asked himself.
“WHY ARE YOU BACK? WHAT’S WRONG?” the shout came from Helen, who had run to the door as soon as she heard him.
Berlanin was not far behind.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING BACK SO EARLY?” he asked as the gate opened and Peter started off at a run toward the house.
“Didn’t you see that?” asked Peter, the look disbelief still set on his face.
“Don’t change the subject,” said Helen. “Why are you back from school so early?”
“I got suspended, and if that isn’t bad enough I’m under review and might even get expelled,” answered the young man speedily.
“Suspended!” said Berlanin.
“Expelled!” said Helen. They looked at each other then looked back at Peter and said at the same time, “What did you do?”
“You won’t believe me.”
“Try us,” said Berlanin.
“Can’t I come in?”
“It depends,” answered Helen.
“Depends on what,” asked the boy.
“It depends how bad it really is,” said Helen. “If it’s too bad, you can just stay out there.”
Berlanin sniggered at the look on his stepson’s face. “Hurry up! I’ll hold her back as long as I can,” said the Wizard.
“Very funny,” said Helen, clearly not amused as she stepped aside to allow him past.
Peter wanted to run to the stairs, but Helen’s hands gently landed on his shoulders and directed him toward the kitchen door.
Berlanin chuckled. “You didn’t really think you would make it, did you?” he said as Peter’s hands touched the kitchen door.
“He would never try to escape,” said Helen. “He knows he wouldn’t get far, don’t you?” She tightened her grip and set h
im in the first chair they came to.
“Well, what the heck’s going on?” said Helen as she and Berlanin sat opposite him.
Peter explained all that had happened to him after he entered the school, right up to when he put his hand through the numbered buttons.
“So, what you’re saying is that you put your fist through a locker,” said Berlanin, “then you put your hand through the number panel. So we need a new code panel?”
“No, I didn’t damage the code panel. My hand turned a little transparent,” said Peter.
“A little transparent?”
“Yeah, just a little,” said Peter, frustrated, for he felt as if he were being grilled. “I mean, it still had color, but I could just about see through it.”
“I don’t care about that stupid number panel or that bloody locker. What I want to know is what the heck does that principal think he’s doing? He can’t punish you for the damaged locker without proof that you did it,” fumed Helen. “It’s that Weavger again! How does he get away with it? This time he won’t!”
“You’re right. I’ll go see if the principal will reverse his suspension or at least stop him from getting expelled,” said Berlanin.
“No, I’m going, and I’m going to end this once and for all,” said Helen angrily.
“And what does that mean?” asked the Wizard.
“What do you think it means? I’m going to tell that smarmy git, that if he ever touches my son again, I’ll kill him. Then I’ll go to the principal and ask why he’s accusing my son of doing something without any proof.”
“But Helen, he did do it. He admitted it to us. So we’d do better drawing as little attention as possible to the locker incident.”
Helen’s temper finally broke.
“SO WHAT THE HECK DO YOU WANT ME TO DO, BEN, JUST LET THEM GET AWAY WITH IT?”
“NO, I’M JUST SAYING THAT IT WOULD BE BETTER TO USE DISCRETION! IT’S NOT AS IF ANY OF THIS IS GOING TO MATTER IN THE LONG RUN. AFTER ALL, WE’LL BE OUT OF HERE SOON, ANYWAY!” shouted Berlanin, also losing his temper. For he, like Helen, would never stand for anybody trying to push him around. Though in his bout of anger he slipped up and Peter had noticed.
The Second Prophecy (Part 1 of the Dragdani Prophecies) Page 20
