Using only one finger, Mr. Tooke
was typing my name into the search window of his computer database. I had to
spell Victoria for him … twice. While
he was punching the keys, I looked at him. The assistant principal didn’t look
like a very happy man. His hair was completely white, but his bright pink skin
told me he was younger than his hair would indicate. He wore black shoes, grey slacks, a short-sleeved
blue dress shirt that bulged at the belt, and a wide maroon tie spotted with
the droppings of many breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. He was a very heavy man
who wore his trousers hitched high at the waist, his belt circling him almost
at his armpits.
“Hmmmm,” he said, “I don’t have any
record of you here.”
“I’ve never been to the office
before,” I said. “Not for disciplinary reasons.”
He turned sideways in his chair to
look at me. “‘Disciplinary reasons’?” he repeated. Those are big words for a little girl.”
“Sorry, should I use smaller ones?”
I wished I hadn’t said that, but the words were out before I could recall them.
Mr. Tooke, however, didn’t seem to notice my sarcasm.
“So why are you here this time, little lady?”
“I’m not really sure.”
“Are you saying one of our teachers
used poor judgment? Didn’t know what he was doing?”
“No. I just am not sure why Mr. Gisborne
was so upset with us.”
“Us?”
“With Gil and me.”
“Don’t you mean ‘Gil and I’?” he
smiled.
“No,” I said. “It’s ‘with me,’ not
‘with I.’”
“You think you’re a pretty smart
one, don’t you?” he snapped. “I think I see what got you in trouble. You got a
fresh mouth on you, young lady. You don’t know what’s right in English”—he
paused—“or in respectful classroom behavior.”
“Sorry.”
He was typing again. “What … I’m …
doing … here,” he said, saying each word in unison with each letter he typed,
“is … entering … you … in … my … database ….”
“I see.”
“… so that the next time you come
in here, I can just punch in your name and see what kind of trouble you’ve been
in before.”
“I don’t plan on coming here
again,” I said.
“Not many people do,” he said. “But
you’ll be back. Fresh mouths always
end up back here.” He nodded knowingly,
staring at me. “Fresh mouths always
end up back here.”
I decided not to reply. I’d keep my
fresh mouth … fresh.
“And when you do end up back here,” said Mr. Tooke, “let me tell you what’s going
to happen, Miss Fresh Mouth.”
He waited for a response, but I
didn’t give him one.
“You’re going to regret the day you
ever saw this school. You’re going to
regret the day you ever saw me.”
I didn’t have to wait any longer to
feel that way. I already regretted
those things.
“Is that understood, Miss Fresh
Mouth?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Get a pass from Mrs. Inchbald
and return to your class. Oh, wait. What about this Phil character you’re in
trouble with?”
“Gil.”
He sighed. “A fresh mouth. Nothing
but a fresh mouth.”
“Gil is with the school nurse,” I
said. “He fainted.
“I do that to guilty students,” he
said.
“I’m sure,” I said, trying to sound
as if I were agreeing with him.
“And remember,” said Mr. Tooke, “you’re
in the computer now.” He patted it like a pet. “You have a record. A history.”
Not for long.
That night I hacked into his
database. He had the silliest password: Discipline.
And with a couple of quick keystrokes I no longer had a record. Or a history.
And neither did Gil.
No comments:
Post a Comment