The Fourth Stall Part II

by Chris Rylander

  “But why?” I said.

  “Because this school is corrupted!” he nearly shouted. “It’s you, and kids like you. You’re vermin. All you do is run around and cause trouble. You don’t show any respect for the teachers or your elders; you don’t pay attention in class; you interfere with the real students getting the education they deserve. You’re like a virus, a drain on the system.

  “So I’m fixing it. After this place’s miserable failure, the city school board and district officials will be ripe for a solution. They’ll be willing to try anything, you see? I’ll give them my presentation, my proposal for a new charter school, publicly funded, privately run, where I can make sure rules are enforced like they’re meant to be. You think this is my first trip to the rodeo? I’ve been doing this for years.

  “Our institution will be one of real higher education. It will be American. With the right teachers who demand respect. We’re bringing the all-American educational system back to the all-American boys and girls. So they can succeed, like they were born to. You probably don’t get that, do you? You don’t understand any of this. You were born to fail. But now you won’t get to spread your rule-breaking disease to the good kids. Not anymore. I don’t know how that old fool Dickerson let your crap go on for so long,” he sneered. “You are the sort of filth that has ruined our school system!”

  “How did you do all this stuff before you even worked here?” Kjelson asked.

  “I have my connections. School board members, cafeteria workers, other teachers. Everybody has their price, especially in the education system, where salaries are laughably low. Do you know what it’s like for these teachers to work so much harder than the teacher down the hall but yet get paid exactly the same? Well, it ruins them. Besides, getting menus altered, coaching changes, leaving poop all over the school, all that stuff is easy. It’s doctoring standardized tests like the SMARTs that’s the hard part. But that’s the only part that really matters. All the other things were just window dressing to make me look good while I was tearing this place down. So I made sure I was brought in before the SMARTs were administered. Then I made sure everyone failed them.

  “And this is where I get to the best part,” he said, his smile growing. “You’ll especially love this, Mac. I didn’t even do anything to the SMARTs. You did. You were the one who rigged the test and caused everyone to fail.”

  He looked right at me as I stood there and shook my head, refusing to believe what he was saying to me. There was no way. No, I’d corrected the tests, not the other way around. It wasn’t possible.

  It was like he could read my mind. “No? You don’t believe me?” he asked. “Well, you should. Because I planted fake answer sheets in my office. You see, I knew you’d try to cheat. You’re a troublemaker through and through. You don’t do what I’ve been doing as long as I have without getting to know your type, Christian. As soon as I met you, I knew I was on to something. I knew about your business, and I used it to my advantage, to make it so the school would fail the test and my hands would be perfectly clean. You see, you think I didn’t have a way to get into your silly little office before I had the locks changed? That the vice principal couldn’t get a key to a bathroom in his own school? That’s just you being a fool, Mac.

  “I’ve always had access to your office, to your little notebooks. So I knew about your plan to cheat on the tests. All I had to do was count on you to be you, trying to be a big shot and solve everyone’s problems. I planted those fake answer keys, trusting you to cheat. And guess what? It worked! It was all you—you are the reason that all of these teachers will lose their jobs, that all of these kids will lose their school. I’m much obliged, Mac. Now all the kids will benefit from a proper education at my new charter school. All the ones we decide to let in, anyways.”

  I opened and closed my mouth, but I couldn’t speak. I didn’t think I was even breathing anymore.

  “That’s just sick, Dr. George,” Mr. Kjelson said softly.

  Dr. George laughed in response.

  “Why? Because all I did was count on this little rule-breaker to break the rules like he has been doing his whole life? I’m not the sick one here; he is. Also, I know you broke in and got all your stuff back. You won’t be expelled. Your permanent record will be fine. But it doesn’t matter anymore. The scores are in. The school’s going to get shut down, and there’s nothing the three of you can do about it. Have a nice life, guys.”

  Dr. George turned and left, laughing. And he was right. It was all over, and it was entirely my fault.

  After he left, the room was silent for a long time. I was left with my thoughts, which I didn’t want to think about.

  All I had been trying to do was solve kids’ problems, and I hadn’t thought about the consequences, about the damage that could be done by school-wide cheating. But that wasn’t true either. . . . I had been thinking more about the money than helping everybody. I hated to admit it to myself, but it was the truth. The thought of making over a thousand dollars on one job had blinded me from the possible disaster of trying to cheat on a test on such a massive scale.

  Sure, George had shut down an entire school all to get back at a few kids who caused problems. Basically for money and so he could do things his own way. And now it seemed obvious to me: I’d done some pretty extreme things for money myself. Were we really all that different? The biggest reason I had been upset was because I’d lose my business. I may have helped kids as I was making money off them. And I would have never accepted a job that hurt innocent people. But that was a lie, because I’d done just that. Maybe not on purpose, exactly, but the end result was the same either way.

  And the worst part of all was that George was right: there was nothing we could do. We had no proof that he was behind all of this. It was our word against his. All we could do now was sit and watch the school close down. I was going to get a front-row seat to watch my actions destroy the lives of all of these awesome teachers and kids.

  And that was when I realized what my selfishness had been blinding me from this whole time. Since I’d heard about the SMART scores and George had stolen everything from my office, I’d really only been worried about myself, about what would happen to me if the school closed down, instead of thinking about the school itself. This school was one of a kind. It deserved better than me. But maybe if, for once, I finally put the school and all of the kids here ahead of myself, we still had a chance. It was time I started doing this like a real old-school baseball player would. I needed to play for the team and not for the stats.

  “So that’s it, then?” Vince finally said.

  Kjelson didn’t say anything; he just looked at the floor.

  But I did. I said, “No.”

  They both looked at me, startled.

  “I’m finished here; that much is clear. My business can be no more. But this doesn’t have to be the end for everyone else. Dr. George was counting on me to keep acting like the selfish kid that I am. He assumed I’d only still be thinking about saving myself, about what’s best for me. But that’s where his plan has a weakness.”

  I had Vince’s and Kjelson’s full attention now.

  “I’m turning myself in to the higher-up Suits. I have the evidence that proves it was me who fixed the tests so that we all failed. If I turn that in, then maybe they’ll agree to readminister the tests. If they know that one kid caused our school to fail, then maybe they’ll give everyone else another chance. George said it himself: all that other stuff like the rodent poop and school lunches, that stuff is just extra; the tests are what really matter. And we have evidence in my Books and on my DVR discs that I was responsible for the failure. I’ll probably get expelled, but that’s okay; I deserve it. At least the school would get to stay open. Besides, if my business can cause this kind of damage, then the school is probably better off without it anyway.”

  “Mac, you can’t do this. You’re not the only one at fault here,” Vince said.

  “Yes I am. Without me there
’d be no business. There’s no point in anybody taking the fall but me.”

  “No, there’s no way I’m letting you take the fall alone. I don’t care if it means I won’t make the baseball team or get expelled myself. I’m in this, too. You always say this is our business not just yours, and you can’t take that back now.”

  I nodded. Vince really was my best friend, and if I was going to ruin my life to save the school and he wanted to be there with me, then I wasn’t going to argue. Because there’s no one else I’d rather have with me at a moment like that.

  “I’m proud of what you’re willing to do here, Christian,” Mr. Kjelson said. “I’ll help as much as I can to make sure you’re heard.”

  Chapter 26

  Tuesday—The Olson Olson Theatre

  It might seem weird to risk further punishment by sneaking out of the house to go to a school meeting when you’re grounded. But sneaking out tonight was easy because my parents weren’t home. They were at the same meeting I was attending, along with probably over half the neighborhood.

  Vince met up with me at my place, and then we went there together. Students weren’t normally allowed to attend open school board meetings, but tonight’s was different since it was so important.

  “Are you ready?” Mr. Kjelson asked as we met up with him near the back entrance of the theater.

  I nodded. “I’m going to do what I have to do to save the school,” I said.

  Mr. Kjelson nodded solemnly.

  We sat next to him near the back of the theater. Right now there were several guys in suits sitting in chairs on the stage, including both Principal Dickerson and Vice Principal George. The other three guys I did not recognize. I figured they were probably the principals’ bosses.

  The crowd was pretty loud as all the parents and kids in attendance anxiously and openly debated what might be the outcome of the meeting. I waited patiently as some lady who I figured was some kid’s mom began talking through a microphone about the meeting agenda. I kept my eyes on the cracked face of Dr. George and his stiff, fake hair.

  After a few minutes she introduced some guy in a suit named Mr. Simpson. He got to the podium and announced that the school had been having issues lately, including astoundingly poor state standardized test scores, health code problems, and nutritional violations with school lunches, and that in light of those issues, the school board had decided that the school was going to have to be closed immediately as an unfit environment for learning.

  The crowd basically exploded like a parade taking place on a minefield during an earthquake. People shouted questions out of turn. Guys were standing and shaking their fists in outrage, as if that would solve anything. I saw many people crying. I thought I even saw one older lady faint.

  Mr. Simpson tried to calm the crowd. “Now listen, this was not an easy decision, but we’ve determined that the issues facing this school cannot be easily fixed. Definitely not within this school year. This is for the best in terms of your children’s educations.”

  “What issues? These SMART test things are worthless; they’re complete . . .” some guy started yelling before his wife shushed him.

  “Your questions are valid. I’m going to bring Vice Principal George to the mike to answer them for you. But please, let’s try to keep this orderly and civil,” Mr. Simpson said before stepping aside.

  Dr. George got up and moved to the podium. He leaned into the microphone and cleared his throat.

  “I know you’re all upset,” he said in his typically curt and blunt manner, without even saying good evening or anything like that. “I will do my best to answer your questions and explain the reasons for our actions. Now, you, sir, you can go first.”

  He pointed at a guy up front who had his hand raised.

  “How do we know these tests weren’t bogus? I mean, my kid, he is a smart kid. He, like, just wouldn’t do this badly, you know?”

  Dr. George nodded and then started shaking his head abruptly. “I assure you all that the validity of these tests has not been compromised. They are strictly regulated and carefully monitored. There’s just no way. Additionally, there’s . . .”

  That’s when Kjelson tapped my leg, and we made our move. Vince, Kjelson, and I stood and walked toward the stage. Dr. George saw us coming and stopped in the middle of whatever phony, canned answer he’d been giving to the angry parent. The whole theater hushed as we walked up on stage.

  “You can’t be up here,” Dr. George finally said to us.

  “I’m Mr. Kjelson, a teacher here and a parent, and I have some very interesting information to present regarding this whole mess!” Mr. Kjelson shouted. “If you’ll hear me?”

  The crowd applauded. It was unenthusiastic, but Mr. Kjelson was given the stage. He stepped to the microphone and introduced Vince and me as students here who had something they wanted to confess.

  “What we’re about to say to you may be pretty shocking,” Kjelson said. “But you’ll hear for yourself.” He turned to me and handed me the microphone.

  I faced the crowd. The microphone hit my chin a few times because my hand was shaking so hard. I couldn’t believe I was about to publicly out my whole business to the school and my parents. But it had to be done. I knew that, and the more I thought about saving the school, the less nervous I became.

  “Hi,” I said into the microphone. My voice sounded so loud through the PA system that it startled me. “You probably don’t know me, but my name is Christian Barrett. I run a business here at the school. I solve problems. And it was my fault that everyone failed the SMARTs. I cheated. I cheated for everybody, that is. Vince and I, we broke into the school and altered everybody’s answers.”

  There was a wave of gasps and then dead silence. I took that as my cue to continue.

  “The thing is, I was only trying to help. I’d heard how important the tests were, and I didn’t want the school to get closed down. So I stole what I thought were the answer keys and tried to make sure everyone would pass. I thought I was helping everybody, helping the school. I never wanted this to happen. But I know it was a mistake, that I screwed up. I have proof, too.”

  Mr. Kjelson walked over and handed the three Suits onstage a bag containing my Books and DVR discs: the ones that showed us sitting in the fourth stall making our plan to cheat on the SMARTs.

  “In those notebooks and on those discs you’ll find plenty of evidence that backs up my claim. So, you see, the kids didn’t fail. I caused them to, accidentally.”

  The three Suits immediately started conferring with one another; Dickerson joined them. The audience erupted in gasps and murmurs. I couldn’t look at them, for fear of seeing my parents’ faces.

  One parent shouted, “The tests need to be retaken!” and there were a few halfhearted claps in support of this idea. But most of the people there still seemed to be trying to get over the initial shock.

  Then Mr. Simpson stepped forward and held out his hand. I gave him the microphone. He gave me a look that would have melted my brains if I hadn’t ducked just slightly.

  Mr. Simpson tapped on the microphone and it squealed loudly. The loud whine quieted the crowd just enough for him to be heard.

  “Clearly, in light of recent events, we will be delaying our decision regarding this school indefinitely, pending an investigation. The evidence presented will be thoroughly reviewed, and if the integrity of the test is found to have been compromised, then steps will be taken for the readministering of the tests to the school. And in light of these doubts surrounding the SMARTs, some discussion will need to be had over possibly not administering them this year at all. In the meantime school will continue here at Thomas Edison at least through the remainder of the school year to give us the appropriate time to conduct a full investigation.”

  The kids in attendance all cheered, and the parents seemed pretty happy, too. Now, probably not all kids were going to be so happy, because there are some kids who just hate school no matter what, but our school was pretty unique. Likel
y how the kids here were acting was how most of the students would feel when the news would break the next day.

  I glanced at Dr. George. His face was red and he was almost vibrating with anger. He was doing his best to keep it all in, though, I could tell, because publicly his goal was to save the school. And he didn’t want to blow his cover since there still wasn’t anything that would tie him to all of this. But, man, was he mad. He was shooting blazing fireballs at me out of his eyes. To be honest, seeing that kinda made confessing worth it.

  Vince and I stepped down from the stage, and I finally went over to where my parents were sitting. They looked shocked. And angry. And they should have been both. I knew that my business was definitely over now, and part of me almost felt relieved. Having that business had been a lot of stress. It had been quite a huge thing to keep secret from every adult around me, so it almost felt good to finally be done sneaking around.

  My dad glared at me. “We’re so disappointed in you,” he said.

  “I can’t believe you boys would do this,” my mom said. She looked destroyed.

  “That said,” my dad continued, “I’m very proud that you did the right thing in the end. That took a lot of guts, to own up to your mistakes.”

  I nodded, but he still hadn’t stopped giving me the old dagger eyes.

  That’s when I saw George headed our way. I nudged Vince, and then we glanced at each other. This couldn’t be good.

  He smiled as he approached, one of his patented shark-on-rollerblades, awkward smiles. His attempts at smiling just split his face in half like cracked, dry wood. I didn’t like this one bit.

  “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Barrett,” he said. I’d never, ever heard him sound this friendly.

  “Hi,” my dad said, shaking his hand.

  “Can I have a word with these two? I want to commend them for coming forward and doing the right thing,” Dr. George said.

  My mom smiled and nodded. “I don’t see why not.”