Leslie's Journal - Allan Stratton [30]
“What’s going to happen to Jason?”
“Leave that to the authorities.”
That’s when I throw up.
Because I’m sick, they let me go home. But the meeting with Principal Barker’s still on for tomorrow.
Breathe, breathe.
I have to get my journal back. I have to make sure Barker keeps quiet about it.
If she doesn’t, what’ll it do to Mom?
And Jason. If I get him in trouble, what’ll he do to me?
Nineteen
I’m in the office, on the bench opposite the secretaries’ counter. It’s where you wait till the principal’s ready to see you. I stayed outside on the street till the bell, so I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone in the halls. And I came to the office first thing so there wouldn’t be any gossip about me getting called down. Please let no one guess anything’s wrong.
I keep my head down, writing in my binder, pretending I’m invisible. God, please let Ms. James get here fast, so we can get this over with. And please—please—let Ms. Barker give me a break.
At our school, retired principals get places like the gym or the library named after them. In Ms. Barker’s case it should be the office washroom. I picture this plaque over the flush toilet: “The Stella Barker Memorial Problem Solver.”
Ms. Stella Barker. I call her Beachball.
I don’t call her Beachball because she’s all puffed up— which she is on account of I think she likes to drink. No, I call her Beachball because she rolls whichever way the wind is blowing. If it’s convenient to say, “The grass is green,” that’s what she’ll say. But if it’s convenient to say, “The grass is blue,” well, she’ll say that too. She calls it being “flexible.” I call it being a weasel.
For instance, last year there was this math test that by some miracle Cindy Williams forgot to study for. The minute she saw Mr. Kogawa handing out the questions, she had a panic attack and took off. Mr. Kogawa gave her a zero. But Cindy got all teary, said she’d been sick. He didn’t buy it. So she went whining to her mother, who complained to Beachball that this zero would wreck Cindy’s straight As.
Did Beachball side with Mr. Kogawa? No way. Cindy’s mom is on the Parents’ Council, so Beachball made the zero disappear, and Kogawa ended up looking like a fool. Cindy bragged all over that her mother told Beachball, “Either you deal with Fred Kogawa, or I go to the school board.” Personally, if I was Cindy, I wouldn’t brag about being a suck but, hey, whatever makes you feel important.
Anyway, two weeks later, I missed a geography test because Mom’s alarm clock didn’t go off. I got a zero too. So, I figured, no sweat, I’ll do like Cindy’s mom and talk to Beachball. Surprise, surprise: when I saw her in the hall, she wouldn’t discuss it.
Beachball likes to tell parents that she “addresses individual student needs.” Hah! She just plays favorites. That’s why she can’t stand Mr. Manley. He hands out suspensions no matter who your parents are. He’s sort of an equal opportunity hard-ass. Beachball could care less if kids like me fail or get suspended. But kids whose parents can make trouble, that’s another story.
Since Manley doesn’t care about pushy parents, he makes headaches for Beachball. As a result, she bad-mouths him out loud to teachers in the corridor and tells her little pets they don’t have to show up for his detentions.
Last year when Manley called Mom about my “absences,” I asked how come she listens to him when the principal doesn’t. Mom was shocked when I told her some of the things I’ve heard Beachball say. But she wasn’t shocked at Beachball. No, she was shocked at me for telling “lies.” According to her, Ms. Barker would never be so unprofessional. But she is. Ask anybody. She’s a bitch with dimples. Ashley A-hole grown up.
Manley’s a jerk, but he’s a jerk to everyone. You know where you stand. The line is clear. But with Beachball, forget it. Logic and fairness are out the window.
That’s why I’m scared about this meeting. There’s no way to figure out what she’ll do. Beachball might feel sorry for me and pretend nothing’s happened. Or, she might call Mom and try to get me locked up.
Yeah, locked