What should I do, Mom?
Okay, so maybe I did overreact. I was still mad at my father. I couldn't help it. Not so much because he'd hurt my mother, but because he'd chased her away from the family. Because he'd made her feel like she had to leave.
Cody wanted a story before bed, so I got up from my desk and went to his bedroom. His white shirt, freshly ironed, hung on his doorknob like a silent rebuke to me. I read him a few chapters from Captain Underpants (always a big favorite), shut off his light, and went back to my room. I could hear the TV in the den, a baseball game.
At ten o'clock I went into the den, determined to make one final attempt to apologize. But the TV had been turned off; Turf was sleeping on the couch. My father had gone to bed, and the door to his room was closed.
TWENTY-THREE
FOR SOME REASON MY FIVE SENSES WERE UNUSUALLY alert on Wednesday morning. From my bedroom, even with the door shut, I could hear Cody in the bathroom humming the Spider-Man song while he brushed his teeth.
I took the bus to school. When I swiped my card and entered Whitestone, I could feel its particular odor wash over me, a smell quite different from Riverview's. Maybe it was the expensive wax they used to polish the floors. Maybe it was the antique wooden bookcases and sculptures breathing out exotic odors from faraway places.
Whap!
Whirling around, I encountered Derrick, who had unloaded on my right arm. It started to throb, but I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me rub it, so I jabbed him back.
"We get our helmets and pads today," he told me. "There's a full-contact practice after that."
"I'll be ready."
"Friendly warning," Derrick said. "If you go to catch a pass, I will hit you."
"If you can keep up with me," I countered as I headed off in the direction of the sophomore corridor.
I stowed the books I would need for the afternoon in my locker.
"Hi, Rowan." Heather Reardon came over and moved two inches closer to me than was absolutely necessary.
I grinned. "Hey there."
She touched the sleeve of my Whitestone shirt. "I think you look better when you're not wearing this."
"Uh, thanks."
"So how did you like the pool?"
"Great, except for one pesky mermaid I ran into." I closed my locker and spun the dial. "Seriously, Heather, that house of yours is phenomenal."
"I'd love to see yours." She leaned her head against my locker. "Why don't you invite me over sometime?"
I laughed nervously. "There's not much to see. I bet our entire apartment could fit in your family room."
She shrugged. "So what? If it's where you live, then I'm interested."
"Well, I guess so." I couldn't picture Heather there.
Talking with Heather, I felt like I was surrounded by a magical ring of protection, like nothing could harm me. But as the day began, I had to fight off several spasms of dread. I couldn't avoid the fact that this might well be my final day at Whitestone.
Robin was waiting for me outside of Spanish class.
"You smell ... different," I said.
"I'm wearing a tiny bit of perfume," Robin admitted with a worried expression. "I figured what the heck, you know? It can't hurt. I hope it's not too loud or anything."
"Stop apologizing for yourself," I gently scolded. "It's not too strong. It smells nice."
Señor Backman tried to bring me down in Spanish. He singled me out and peppered me with difficult questions. But I had studied my verbs; I was ready for him. I handled the responses flawlessly, making sure to answer in the same verb tense he used.
¿Usted irá al partido?
Sí, iré al partido.
¿Usted iba a venir?
Sí, iba a venir, I replied.
Señor Backman tested me like this several more times. Finally he gave me a grudging nod of approval and backed off. I could feel Robin smiling from across the room.
I glanced at the clock: 9:45. In two hours and fifteen minutes I would have my showdown with Seth. Would Robin still admire me after that?
Lunchtime/crunch time. The menu featured shepherd's pie, Whitestone chili, and barbecued pulled-pork sandwiches. Tasty options if you were hungry, but I seemed to have lost my appetite. I decided to hit the salad bar and then carried my tray to the corner table.
It wasn't long before Seth strolled over, all loose and casual, with Brogan a step behind. Like Batman with Robin.
"Yo." Seth offered both hands. "Slap me ten, Bobby."
I speared a cherry tomato with my fork and wondered: What would happen if I ignored them completely? Simply pretended they didn't exist?
Seth took the chair directly across from me. He slouched down, resting his forearms on the table.
"Dunno if you heard, but today is Wednesday," he began. 'And around here, Wednesday is payday."
"Save it, Seth," I said. "I'm not paying you or anybody else."
"You've had all this time to think about it, and that's the best you could come up with?" Seth looked at me in astonishment. "Where's your imagination, Bobby? I didn't think you were that stupid."
I stared back at him. "Apparently I am."
Seth sighed. "So you know what's going to happen next. I don't want to do this, but you're not giving me any choice."
As he started to get up, I grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him down so he was eye level with me.
"Why are you doing this? Why?"
"Why?" Seth carefully removed my hand from his sleeve. He didn't look rattled. In fact, his face was wide-eyed with wonder. "You want me to tell you why?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Because you don't belong here." Seth's expression turned fierce. "You couldn't get into Whitestone like everybody else. Oh, no, not you, Bobby Steele. That's not your way, is it? No, you had to sleaze your way in, didn't you? You think faking the application and putting on that green shirt makes you a Stony? Huh? It's about time you take off your disguise and let everybody know that you're nothing but a fake, a fraud."
Seth and Brogan left, and this time I didn't try to stop them. A little dazed, I watched them walk across the cafeteria.
Later, I went to U.S. history. The teacher, Mrs. Tillett, was young and very easy on the eyes, but today I couldn't pay attention. I closed my eyes. A picture appeared in my mind, an idyllic scene: being with Heather Reardon at her family's farm, riding horses side by side, the two of us following a winding creek that sparkled in the morning sun.
The classroom door opened and Ms. Ryder walked in. Her face looked solemn, like somebody'd just died.
"Excuse the interruption," she said to Mrs. Tillett. "I need Rowan to come with me."
As I stood and gathered my things, I felt a jolt of panic followed by a wave of relief that this whole situation would finally get resolved one way or another.
Ms. Ryder did not speak to me as we went down the hall. I followed her into Dr. LeClerc's office. The headmaster was sitting on a corner of his desk when we walked in. He looked agitated.
"What is your name, young man?" LeClerc demanded.
I hesitated. "Well—"
"It's time to come clean!" he said sharply. He waved several sheets of paper. "You have been representing yourself as Rowan Pohi. That's how you signed your essay. Isn't it?"
"Yes," I said reluctantly.
LeClerc took a half step toward me and folded his arms. I could see the fine network of veins on his cheeks.
"It has come to my attention that in fact your name is Robert Steele. Is that true? Is that who you are?"
"Yeah," I admitted. At that moment I did feel like a fraud. "My name is Bobby Steele."
LeClerc shot an amazed glance at Ms. Ryder, who was standing to his right. Then he turned back to me.
"So, you have been lying from the beginning." LeClerc stared. "Is that what you're telling me?"
"I guess so."
"You guess so?" he asked incredulously.
"Yes, sir. I have."
"Yo
u are suspended from this school. Immediately." LeClerc jotted a note on a pad of paper. "Tomorrow morning at nine there will be a full hearing of the disciplinary committee. Is that clear, Mr., uh, Steele?"
Almost inaudibly: "Yes."
"What was that?"
I cleared my throat. "Yes, sir. I understand."
"Do not be late. And absolutely do not report to your classes. I will notify your teachers about this situation. Ms. Ryder, please escort Mr. Steele from this building."
Ms. Ryder led me out of the office. We were in the middle of a class period, so the hallways were empty. I was glad not to see Seth, or Brogan, or anybody else I knew.
When she opened the front door, I hesitated. I really liked Ms. Ryder. She had always been fair with me. I wanted to say something to her, but I didn't know where to start.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Ryder," I managed.
She gave me a searching look. "What in God's name were you thinking? You never went to high school in Arizona, did you?"
"No," I admitted. "But—"
She held up her hand.
"Don't," she said. "You heard what Dr. LeClerc said. I think he was very clear. The disciplinary committee will hold a hearing tomorrow morning at nine. At that time, you will have a chance to say whatever you have to say in your defense."
"What's going to happen to me?"
Ms. Ryder sighed in exasperation, glancing up at the dome ceiling. Then she looked back at me. "If there is anything more important than personal integrity, well, I don't know what it is." Her face was pinched, with upside-down wrinkles on her forehead above each eye. "You have been lying about your identity. That is fundamental. I honestly don't know what the committee will decide, but if it were up to me, you'd be expelled from Whitestone."
TWENTY-FOUR
MY LIFE WAS DISINTEGRATING RIGHT BEFORE MY EYES. BUT I did have a plan, believe it or not, and I tried to convince myself that it might work.
No need to sweat the disciplinary committee meeting because I would not be there. I wasn't going back to Whitestone. Ever.
Tomorrow morning I'd show up at Riverview, take my lumps for missing a bunch of school days (I was prepared for at least a day or two of detention), and climb back into my old life.
Rowan Pohi was history.
My father would never need to know that any of this had happened.
True, there were certain loose ends, such as Coach Throckmorton and the football team. Also Heather Reardon. And, to a lesser extent, Robin Whaley. Plus Derrick, and a few other kids who'd been friendly to me. Hopefully, Heather would be able to see the humor in this mess once I explained it to her. No reason why we couldn't stay in touch, maybe even continue to see each other. There's no law against dating someone who goes to a different high school, right? I texted her twice as I was riding the bus home, but she didn't answer.
Wednesday was spaghetti night and my turn to make supper. I still had no appetite, but my father said the sauce tasted good. Cody liked it too, and why wouldn't he, with the inch of grated cheese he piled on top?
We had almost finished cleaning up the kitchen when the phone rang. My father was closest to the phone, so he answered it. He listened for a long time, saying no more than an occasional "Yes" or "Uh-huh, I see."
He took the phone into his bedroom and closed the door. He was in there so long I started to get a funny feeling in my belly.
"That was Dr. LeClerc," he said when he came out. His face had gone pale. "From Whitestone School."
I swallowed. "Oh."
He blinked. "That's all you can say? Oh?"
Pause.
"Come with me."
We went to the den. Cody wanted to play with his castle guys in front of the TV, but my father told him to take his toys to his room.
We sat on the couch about three feet apart. My father was wearing a blue T-shirt, and I could see fresh cuts on his right forearm. The cuts were evenly spaced, making me think they must have been made by some kind of rotor or chain. There was also a bandage on the knuckles of his right hand where he'd gotten a cut that had needed two stitches. A mechanic's hands and arms really take a beating.
He made a fist with his right hand and gently tapped it against his mouth. "Who is Rowan Pohi?"
I shrugged. "Just a name we invented."
"Who's we?
"Marcus, Big Poobs, and me."
"Spill it, Bobby," he said. "No BS. Tell me everything."
So I told him the whole story. I didn't hold anything back, and it was actually a relief to finally come clean. He listened without interrupting, keeping his eyes fixed on me the whole time.
"Your mother always said Whitestone was a good school," he said thoughtfully. "Is it?"
That surprised me. "Well, yeah. Better than good."
My father lowered his eyes and started chewing on the soft inside part of his thumb. "LeClerc said there's a disciplinary hearing tomorrow morning. He said you gotta be there at nine."
I looked away. "I'm not going. There's no point. I'm toast. I'm done at Whitestone."
"Done?"
"Yeah."
"Just going to walk away, huh? Drop out?"
"I'll go to Riverview," I added lamely.
"Riverview, huh?" I watched his expression shift gears and slip into angry. "I guess you got it all figured out, don't you? Be whoever you want to be. Take whatever name you want. Show up at whatever school you want."
"I guess I didn't think it all the way through."
He stood up, suddenly restless. I watched him go to the window, crack the blinds, and stare at the street.
"Don't want to be Bobby Steele anymore?" He turned to look at me. "You ashamed of the name? Huh? Is that why you changed it?"
I said nothing, and my nothing said everything.
There was a long pause. Finally, he spoke in a half whisper.
"Maybe if you don't want to call yourself Bobby Steele, well, maybe you don't want to be my son."
"Yes, I do," I said, though I don't know if I said that because it was true or because I knew it was what I was supposed to say.
I saw him working his jaw. Then he peered at me in a peculiar way.
"I guess you're on your own now, Bobby. Good luck."
I blinked. "What do you mean?"
He shrugged.
"You kicking me out?" I asked.
"No. You've got your bedroom. Food in the fridge. A place to live." He closed the blinds. "But you just living here doesn't make us family, neither."
He went to the front door and opened it.
"Where you going?"
"Out."
"AA meeting?" I asked.
But he didn't answer as he strode out the door.
Even though it was raining, I really wanted to go out for a run. But I couldn't leave Cody alone in the apartment, so I stayed. And maybe it's fortunate that I did. If I had gone for a run I might have just kept going, like Mom did, and I might not have come back.
It was a long night. My teachers had assigned a boatload of homework, especially Nardone in English, and I almost started working on it out of habit until I remembered that I was done at Whitestone. I'd never see those teachers again.
I read Cody two books before he went to bed. After that I didn't know what to do with myself.
I retexted Heather. Still no answer.
I turned on the baseball game, but the rain had halted play in the seventh inning. I love baseball, but there is nothing on planet Earth more boring than a ball game during rain delay. I channel-surfed but couldn't find anything worth a damn. When I finally climbed into bed, my father still hadn't come home.
Get separation.
About a year ago Mom had separated herself from me and Cody. After tonight's conversation, I felt emotionally separated from my father too. I felt cut off, detached, separated from my old friends and my new friends both.
Separation? Separation was just about all I had.
I made a pledge myself: I would stop lying. I was sick of it. From now on, n
o matter what, I was going to tell the truth.
TWENTY-FIVE
I TRIED TO TUNE OUT CODY'S JABBERING AT BREAKFAST. My father leaned against the counter, dressed in jeans and a denim work shirt. He sipped his coffee, deep in thought.
Just going to walk away, huh?
I left the house intending to go to Riverview. But when I stepped onto the sidewalk, my feet hesitated, wouldn't move.
What the...?
Opposite Day.
Instead of going toward Riverview, I found myself striding in the direction of the crosstown bus. I was going to Whitestone after all. I let out a string of curses but kept on walking.
On the bus, two girls sat near me, identical twins, bopping to a song on an iPod. They shared earphones and waggled their heads in rhythm. It was kind of eerie how perfectly in sync they were with each other. Even in my miserable state, I couldn't help but smile.
At the school entrance I swiped Rowan's ID card. Surprisingly, it still worked. The door clicked, allowing me to push through. The halls were empty, so I made a beeline for my locker.
On the bus, I had tried to decide whether or not I should wear my uniform to the disciplinary meeting. Wearing it had seemed like a stupid idea. But now that I was inside the school, I knew I had to. I changed right in the empty hallway, peeling off the button-down shirt I was wearing and pulling on the green Whitestone jersey.
Just as I started walking toward LeClerc's office, the bell rang. The hallway flooded with students. I was relieved not to see any familiar faces. I sped down the hallway, trying to be invisible, until Heather stepped in front of me and forced me to stop.
She folded her arms. "Do you mind telling me what is going on?"
I shifted my feet. "What do you mean?"
"Seth told me you're not Rowan."
"I'm not," I admitted.
She stared in disbelief. "So who are you?"
"Bobby Steele." I tried to say it proudly.
She looked like a girl whose worst fears have just been confirmed. "Seth said your father—"
Also Known as Rowan Pohi Page 10
