Chapter Thirty-one.

MONDAY, APRIL 27 / 9:25 A.M.

Kids were streaming out of the bleachers, but Jess and I remained planted. "What the h.e.l.l?" I asked. "What just happened?"

Jess's eyes were angry slits. "A bunch of c.r.a.p is what. I mean, to let Mrs. Wagner speak is redonkulous. Why not your mom? And what was that s.h.i.t about her being absent?"

"I don't know. I wondered if it was about the cancer, but what if it's about her job? Like she's going to be fired or resign or something."

"That would suck," Jess said, staring at the podium where everyone had been gathered minutes before. They were all gone now.

"Jess, I have to find my mom. If there's a chance she's going to be out of a job over this, we can't let that happen. We have to tell her the truth-that Sylvia stuffed the ballot boxes."

Jess stared at me. "Um, that seems like a pretty obvious thing you might have wanted to tell her before now. Don't you think?"

"Yeah. I know. It's just, for a while I didn't tell her because I was afraid that Sylvia and everyone else would be right. That I'd just be a princ.i.p.al's b.i.t.c.h. But now, it's like I'm not sure anyone's opinion of me can go any lower. So what the h.e.l.l do I have to lose?"

Jess arched a brow. "Well, in that case, by all means allow me to be seen with you."

"Come on, I'm serious. Look, I know I've screwed up a lot in all this, talking to Rod Barris and keeping stuff from my mom. But I'm not the only one who's made mistakes. Everybody has. Me, Sylvia, Ryan, Mrs. Wagner-and yeah, my mom. But she shouldn't lose her job over it. Not if she's just as guilty as the rest of us."

"Except she's the princ.i.p.al, Ag. Maybe she is more guilty. She's the head of the school."

"Fine. But then at least she should know that some of the evidence that's stacking against her is bulls.h.i.t. Those ballot boxes were stuffed. She should know that before she hands in her paperwork. That's all I'm saying."

Jess nodded. "You're right. She should. So let's go tell your mom what we know."

I grabbed her hand and together we bolted down the bleachers and down the hall to Mrs. Janske's desk.

When Jess and I walked in, Mrs. Janske raised her penciled eyebrows. "Shouldn't you ladies be in cla.s.s now?"

"We need to see my mom," I said. "It's really important."

Mrs. Janske's eyebrows didn't budge. "She's not here right now. Can I leave her a message?"

"Where is she?"

"She's at the school board offices downtown. She left with the superintendent after the a.s.sembly."

I pictured all the fat oozing over Mr. Swanson's collar and tried to stay focused.

"Thanks, Mrs. Janske," Jess said, pulling me out into the empty hallway. Without a word to each other, the two of us pounded toward the shop cla.s.ses, racing for the school's back door and the parking lot. We had to get to the school board offices.

Once we were buckled into Jess's car, she peeled out of the parking lot, tires squealing.

"Even if I drove eighty the whole way, which I can't, it's still going to take us a few minutes to get downtown," she said.

I flipped her radio dial on, then turned it off a moment later. "Yeah, I know."

"So we've got some time before we get downtown is what I'm saying. I mean, if you wanted to tell me what happened this weekend."

Right. The weekend. I still hadn't told Jess about any of it.

Fearing what would happen if I didn't just blaze ahead, I let the words tumble out. About Neil, my parents grounding me, the tournament, the dead ba.s.s-all of it. When I couldn't push the words out anymore, I chanced a look over at Jess, and her face wasn't like concrete, like I expected it would be. It was more like marshmallow.

"Aggie," she whispered, "I'm so sorry."

"About which part?"

"G.o.d, all of it. But especially about Neil. I mean, he was such a d.i.c.k to you. I'm sorry he treated you that way. You totally deserve better."

"The worst part is," I said, "Neil has been a jerk lately, but it wasn't always that way. For a long time he seemed like the only person who understood me. I never felt like a loser or a freak around him, and I think I just had a hard time letting that go. It's why I always wanted to believe him."

Jess nodded. "I can relate to that."

"Yeah?"

"Uh, yeah. You seen my left hand lately?"

"That J. rex s.h.i.t bothers you?"

"Yeah. Sometimes. But more than anything, I just wish everyone would stop spreading rumors and ask me."

"Ask you what?"

Jess leaned back an inch. "Ask me how it happened."

I glanced down at her hand.

"Now would be the time where you ask me, Ag."

I didn't say anything for a moment.

"Like, this year would be nice."

"Fine. How did it happen?"

"The garbage disposal."

"What?"

"Seriously. When I was four, I was curious about it, so I turned it on and stuck my hand down the drain."

She held up her deformed hand, and we both stared at it.

"Jess," I said, "I'm so sorry." I didn't know what else to say.

"Yeah. Well. Me too."

"I'm sorry I didn't ask before now," I said.

"I figured you'd better know if we were going to hang out."

"Mission accomplished."

Jess turned the car into the school administration parking lot, and we sat there for a second until she finally asked, "So now what?"

I sighed. "We can sure as h.e.l.l leave, that's one option. Or we can go inside, try to find my mom, and tell her what we know about the ballots. And maybe, if we're lucky, it'll keep her from resigning or getting fired. If that's what Mr. Swanson meant when he talked about her 'absence.'"

"That's a lot of hypotheticals right there," Jess said.

"I know. The smarter thing might be to take off. But I don't want to."

"Me neither," Jess said, opening her door. "And I have a feeling we need to hurry."

Chapter Thirty-two.

MONDAY, APRIL 27 / 10:02 A.M.

After Jess and I got turned around six times in the administration building's long, tangled hallways, we finally found the heavy oak door that read SUPERINTENDENT. We pushed it open and stepped inside.

"May I help you?" the woman behind the reception desk asked. She had shoulder-length black hair and wore a shirt open to the third b.u.t.ton.

"I need to see the superintendent, please," I said. "It's an emergency."

The woman smiled, showing straight white teeth. "I'm sorry, he's in a meeting right now, but he'll be out shortly. If you want to have a seat, I'll ask him to see you when he's wrapped up."

"No, I know," I said. "I mean, he's in there with my mom, and I really need to talk to her."

The secretary's smile froze. "Your mom?"

"Yeah. Gail Winchester."

The smile began fading from the secretary's face. "Why don't you have a seat," she said, "and I'll ring Superintendent Swanson and let him know you're here."

"She doesn't care if the superintendent knows," Jess interjected. "She needs to speak to her mom."

The smile vanished from the secretary's face entirely. "Have a seat," she said, and picked up the phone. "Sorry to bother you, sir," she said, casting a glance in our direction, "but I have Gail Winchester's daughter out here."

Pause.

"Yes, sir, I understand that, but she says it's an emergency. If you could just tell-"

Pause.

"Gail, h.e.l.lo. I'm sorry to interrupt but your daughter is outside and says she needs to speak to you."

Pause.

"Yes. She's here."

Pause.

"Just a few seconds ago."

Pause.

"Thank you."

A moment later, the superintendent's office door flew open and my mom marched out. Her lean legs flashed like a model's in her suit. To look at her, you'd never think she'd had cancer. Or was possibly on the verge of losing her job.

"Aggie!" she said. "What are you doing here? What is going on?"

The enormity of what I was doing pulled at me in a riptide of panic. "Mom," I said slowly, "I have to tell you something. And I need you to believe me. Because it's the truth."

My mom narrowed her eyes. "What?"

The panic was pulling at my throat.

"Tell me what it is, Aggie," my mom said. "You're on very thin ice, and I'm in the middle of something."

"I know," I said. "I mean, we heard today at the a.s.sembly. That you were going to be gone from school for a while."

"You came here to tell me about the a.s.sembly?"

"No. I just want to make sure you're not going to get fired or turn in your resignation or anything. Because you can't. There's stuff you don't know."

My mom's neck started to get red and blotchy. "What are you talking about? Did Rod Barris call you again?"

"No. It's not like that."

The superintendent peeked his head around his office door. "Everything okay, Gail?"

"Fine, Paul. I'll be right there."

My mom leaned in, and I could smell her perfume. "Margaret Winchester, I do not have time for this. I need you to leave."

"I can't," I said.

My mom's face darkened. "Excuse me?"