Chapter 103: Suspended

Monday, April 2, 1984

When we arrived at school, Linda met us before we’d even stepped away from the car.

“Be very careful at your lockers, or get witnesses,” she said.

“What’s up?” Paige said.

Angie was making a face — but, then, I probably was, too, considering the long-standing locker issues.

“When Jessica opened her locker, there was a dark-colored plastic bag in it. Fortunately, she didn’t touch it and called for help. From what I understand, it had a moderate amount of pot. Not a lot, but enough.”

Angie shook her head.

“She’s suspended, at least for today, and the police took the baggie. Obviously, it won’t have her fingerprints on it, but if she’d touched it, it might have. It makes no sense for her to have turned herself in if it was hers, so I can’t believe Principal Riggs would think she’d done anything, but you know how the school is about pot.”

I knew. We all knew. They brought the police department’s drug-sniffing dog through every so often to check lockers. It never made sense to me, because they knew about Smoker’s Heaven and never busted it (or, if they did, I’d missed it), but they checked lockers regularly.

We checked, making sure we had witnesses (I wound up with Ms. Wolkowski, of all people, watching me), and all of our lockers were clean. It could have been anyone targeting Jess, of course — she did have enemies, even if many of them were simply waiting her out at this point.

The morning announcements mentioned the situation, stating that any unexpected items in lockers should be immediately reported, and that the drug dog unit would be in school starting in one hour. I’m sure they would be watching to see if anyone in particular high-tailed it to their lockers.

First-life me might have. I barely had used my locker in my first life, visiting it once or twice a month at most. I carried any books I needed.

Not this time. My locker got a fair bit of use. I wasn’t really up for the massive (and very heavy) backpack I’d carried that time. It had undoubtedly contributed to back pain later in life.

I received a note during Tom Myerson’s third-period class calling me to Principal Blaine’s office. More interestingly, Calvin got a note, too, which sent him to Principal Riggs’s office.

We talked on the way. The odds were disturbingly high that this was marijuana-related. If so, this was either an expensive way to hassle us or had some other goal. Presumably, the culprit didn’t know that I had a principal who knew my locker was clean, but how could they not know that Calvin had been drug-tested just a few weeks ago? The UIL tested everyone who made it to the State Basketball Tournament as a matter of course.

It made sense that Calvin would be sent to Principal Rigg’s office, though, because of the championship. A black mark even now could be trouble. Principal Blaine made me nervous, though I had nothing to fear. That was just his job: making students nervous. He was very good at his job.

I wished Calvin well, then knocked at Principal Blaine’s open door.

“Ah, Mister Marshall,” he said. “Come in and close the door.”

I did, and he gestured to a chair, then sat down himself. I followed suit.

“Do you know why you’re here?” he said.

“I’m going to guess it’s related to the drug dog, and Jessica, and probably Calvin, and who all knows who else.”

He nodded, then took out a ziploc bag with another bag, smaller and darker, inside of it.

“We found this in your locker. It was right on top.”

I nodded. “It’d have to have been on top.”

“And why is that?”

“Because Principal Wolkowski watched me open my locker this morning, and it wasn’t there yet.”

He frowned. “You had Pat watch you open your locker?”

“We all had someone watch, preferably a teacher or principal. Once Jessica was in the spotlight, it seemed prudent.”

“And why is that?” he said, repeating himself. I didn’t point it out. Bad idea!

“One possible motive is that certain parties were upset that Jessica and I were Homecoming King and Queen. This could be delayed revenge. We’re both relatively prominent as well, all around. There are all sorts of reasons, but that’s one I have to be aware of.”

“So you’re saying this was planted?”

“Has to have been. I went straight from Ms. Epstein’s class to PE, and from there straight to Tom Myerson’s class. Several of my friends were with me. While I could have gone to my locker and placed it there, my friends would all have to be lying and I would have to have been insane. Since we all knew the drug dog would be here, we could easily guess that people would be watching the lockers between periods, and I’d have to have been putting it into my locker.”

He chuckled softly. “You have a point, I’ll concede that. Let me see if Pat is around. Just hang on a minute.”

He got up and went out into the hall. I heard him talking to Ms. Wolkowski briefly, but couldn’t make it out.

After that, he came back, sighed, and sat down.

He looked at me after a second. “Obviously, this has all the hallmarks of a setup. I mean, it’s possible that you knew your locker would have a residual smell and planted it in such a way that it looks insane, but ... no. That makes no sense. It’s obviously some sort of frame-up. If one of you had touched the packages, we’d have a whole lot of to-do over nothing.”

“So...?”

He sighed again. “Technically, we have to suspend you for at least the rest of the day. Nothing I can really do about that. It was in your locker, and the police have that in their report, but they’re also aware that this stinks and no legal action is likely to be taken.”

“And exams?”

“If the suspension is overturned, as I imagine it will be, they’ll give make-up exams. In most cases, we would, anyway, but in this case ... yeah, we’d have to.”

I nodded. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. This...” he said, then stopped and made a face. It wasn’t a face I really wanted to see again.

He continued, saying, “This really burns me! One or two people acting before they think and putting their fingerprints on things and we have a very different day. If I figure out who did this...”

I nodded. “Then everyone’s parents will want their pound of flesh, too.”

“This locker stuff is really getting on my nerves! This can’t keep happening!”

“I hope it doesn’t.”

“Head out to the lobby. I have to call your parents. It’s how we have to do it. Don’t worry — they’ll know it’s almost certainly nothing.”

I nodded. “Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome.”

When I got to the lobby, I was only somewhat surprised to find that, besides Calvin, Mel, Amit, two cheerleaders I didn’t know very well (Charlotte and Patty), and three socialites I knew even less well were all sitting there, presumably waiting for the desk to tell them their parents were on the phone.

I considered asking to call Kyle, but decided against it. The school was, so far, being reasonable. Their hands were tied. The police hadn’t said anything to me, I hadn’t said anything to them, and nothing was under oath. The phones were in heavy use. It could wait.

It took thirty minutes before I got called to the phone. I chatted with a few of the others during the wait, but mostly everyone was quiet. No one really wanted to strike up a conversation in the office waiting area.

While I was walking over, Angie came in, followed by Sue, then Morty. This was going to be quite the day.

“Steve?” Mom said, sounding panicky. “What happened? Drugs?!”

“Planted in my locker, Mom. And I can prove that, fortunately. It’s going around. Angie’s going to be doing this with you in a bit.”

She groaned. “You...”

“Before you say it, yes, I promise. Not mine, and I’ve never used anything.”

Well ... yeah. This me hadn’t, and the other me had hardly been a heavy user. A few times in fifty-five years is definitely not ‘heavy.’

“That’s ... I just don’t understand. How...?”

“We’ve had a rash of people shoving things into lockers this year. This is a big escalation, but it’s not new. We’re lucky...”

“Lucky?” she said, almost snorting.

“Jessica got hit first. She spotted the baggie, didn’t touch it, put the word out, and then reported it herself. Thanks to her warning, I had Principal Wolkowski watch me open my locker first thing this morning. It was clean. Most of us had a teacher or a principal watch. So, now they have to argue that not only did I go way out of my way to go back to my locker, I went back to it to put drugs in — on top! — when I knew the drug dogs would be coming.”

“That ... okay,” she said, now almost laughing. “Fine. That’s lucky!”

“It is.”

“What about the police?”

“I find it hard to believe anything will happen,” I said. “We have people here who smoke pot regularly and have been caught and suspended several times. None of them has ever been inside a jail cell or a courtroom. Stuff ... happens. I have no idea what, or why, but it’s not because their parents are super-powerful. I think it’s the police not wanting to make the school district look bad, myself.”

“Interesting. I’d never once thought of that!”

“We’ll be fine, and home soon. This is going to screw up the week, but there’s no helping that.”

“I’ll tell your father at lunch. He’ll ... you know him. He’ll see reason right away, but he’ll be upset, too,” she said.

“That’s exactly what I’m expecting.”

“Honestly, and this is totally unfair, but if this was just Angie...”

I looked around, counting. “I think we’re up to at least 20 of us. Half of them are people I don’t know. This is obviously a setup. Whoever did it doesn’t care about that, so it’s just a stupid prank. If they’d just picked one or two people, it could’ve been a lot worse. Like you said, if someone wanted to mess up Angie, targeting just her would’ve made a real mess. Even though I would be completely sure she was innocent, you and Dad would have to at least consider the possibility that I was wrong, or covering for her.”

“I’ll tell Sam that, too. I mean, about the number of people targeted. He’ll appreciate that. Not the rest, though.”

“Thanks, Mom!”

“You can tell Angie I don’t need her to call.”

“I doubt we get that choice. It’s their procedure. They have to call each time, I think.”

“I’ll be here!”

Angie came out about five minutes after I got off the phone.

“This sucks!” she said, sitting on my lap.

It was a measure of the kind of day it was that none of the office staff even tried to complain about her choice of expression.

“Badly,” I said.

She looked around, then said, “This is an eclectic mix.”