Charles Benoit: You

He nods. You don’t know why he’d want to know, but you’re glad he asked. Up ahead, Coriddi walks past the school’s massive trophy case and up to the main office. He pushes open the glass door and points to a row of cafeteria chairs along the wall under a framed flag that you were told once flew over the White House. There’s a long counter in the main office, and the receptionist and the secretary and one of the counselors who was looking up some files all turn to watch you come in. The jock sits down at one end, you take the other. He keeps flipping through his wallet, making sure that everything is still there, going back, flipping through again, just in case you reached over and grabbed something when he wasn’t looking.

Coriddi leans against the counter. “Dave in?”

“I’ll give him a call,” the secretary says, and picks up a walkie-talkie off her desk.

The counselor looks over at the jock and rolls the file cabinet drawer shut. “Jake?” He says it like he can’t believe what he’s seeing, like the jock had three heads or something. “Jake Burke?”

“Hey, Mr. Linton,” the jock grunts.

“Jake, what are you doing here?”

Seeing Jake in the principal’s office is apparently news. Seeing Kyle Chase is not. The jock turns his head to look at you, then looks back at the counselor. “Somebody stole my wallet.”

Coriddi snaps his finger and points at the jock. “No talking.”

“He asked me a question,” Jake says, and now his voice is going up like he’s looking for a fight and you’re sitting there wondering how cool it would be if those two went at it right there in the main office. Running that thought through your head keeps you from punching the wall.

It takes ten minutes for the principal to arrive, two minutes for Coriddi to explain how he got it all under control, and two seconds for Mr. Harris to agree. The principal is checking with the secretary to see if he has any appointments coming up when one of the gym teachers comes through the office doors. He’s tall and trim, with the kind of square jaw football quarterbacks always have. He’s wearing track pants and a black and gold Midlands High Cougars sweatshirt. He’s balancing a cup of coffee on the back of a green clipboard. He jerks his right-angle chin at Jake the Jock. “What are you here for?”

Jake’s got his head tilted down and he’s lost all that swagger. “Hey, Coach.”

“Why are you here?”

Jake looks up to make sure Coriddi is gone. “ Somebody stole my wallet and I had to get it back.”

The coach looks at you. “You take his wallet?”

“No. I-”

“He’s lying, Coach,” Jake says, and he gives this laugh.

The coach keeps his eyes on you. “Did you take his wallet?”

“I found it in the stairwell. I was going to bring it to the office, but I didn’t even get out of the stairwell before he was all up in my face.”

“Gentlemen,” the principal says, “I’d like to see the both of you in my office.”

Jake jumps up first. You sigh and stand, glancing at the coach as you walk by. He looks you in the eyes and you’re startled at what you see.

He believes you.

You’ve never had him as a gym teacher, you’re not on one of his teams, you’ve never spoken to him before. But there in his eyes, something that says he believes you.

Well now, that was unexpected.

Everything else that happens-the accusations, the suspension, getting grounded-goes pretty much the way you thought it would.

HOW YOU GOT THAT SCAR ON THE BACK OF YOUR HAND PART 1: THE OFFICIAL VERSION

DATE AND TIME OF INCIDENT: March 17, 7:10 a.m.

TYPE OF INCIDENT: Personal Injury

BUS #: 202, Route 1C

DRIVER: Bob Presutti

STUDENT’S NAME: Kyle Chase

DESCRIBE THE INCIDENT: Student slipped on wet floor and fell across the seat, putting his right hand through the glass of the window, lacerating back of right hand

DISPATCHER NOTIFIED: [X] YES [] NO

POLICE/AMBULANCE ARRIVED: [X] YES [] NO

POLICE/AMBULANCE REPORT #: 0317-a-14616-010

HOSPITALIZED: [X] YES [] NO

CHARGES FILED: [] YES [X] NO

PARENTS NOTIFIED: [X] YES [] NO

REFERRED FOR DISCIPLINARY ACTION: [] YES [X] NO

ADDITIONAL NOTES: Responding officer requests student speak with school psychologist

The fourth time you go ahead and hit SEND. Her phone rings way too soon.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Ashley, what’s up?”

“Eric?”

Eric? “No, it’s, uh, Kyle.”

“Kyle? Oh my god , we were just talking about you. How are you?”

Just talking about you? With Eric? Who the hell is Eric? “All right, I guess. Just hanging out.”

“I can’t believe they gave you three days and they only gave Jake one night’s detention. And that was for swearing. It sucks.”

She knows the jock’s name? “Yeah. It sucks.”

“I was at my locker getting stuff for my class and all of a sudden I hear Jake swearing his head off. F this, F that…”

She never swears. Well, not really swears. You first noticed it a few months back when she was pissed at her parents for something and she still didn’t swear. You wonder why, but you never asked her. It makes her more interesting, special.

“…then like everybody rushes to the stairwell, and I’m so short I can’t see a thing. All I heard was that a bunch of hoodies mugged Jake in the stairwell.”

“Who told you that ?”

“I don’t know, that’s just what I heard. Then at lunch, Sophie told me how you got caught lifting Jake’s wallet-”

“What?”

“-and I’m like, Kyle? No way-”

“Thank you.”

“-I mean Jake would just crush you-”

“I didn’t try to take his wallet. I found it. It was there on the stairs. I picked it up and was checking to see whose it was and then he comes slamming into me like I stole it.”

“But you got suspended.”

“They couldn’t prove that I took it and they couldn’t prove that I didn’t, so they gave me three days for starting a fight.”

“So they just couldn’t prove anything?”

“I didn’t take his wallet.”

There’s a pause. A long pause. “Okay. So you didn’t take his wallet. Jeez.”

“Why would you think that I would? I don’t steal stuff.”

“I don’t know, it’s just that’s what everybody was saying.” She pauses again. “But I should’ve known.”

“Yeah, you should’ve known.”

“It’s not like you to do something like that, especially to somebody like Jake .”

You know what she means, but you say, “What do you mean?”

She gives a laugh, and for the first time you don’t like the sound of it. “If you’re gonna steal from anybody-”

“I didn’t steal anything.”

“I’m just saying, if . God, don’t get so freaked. If you were- if , Kyle-you’d be smarter than to try to jump Jake.”

This is the point where you’re supposed to say “I could kick his ass” or words to that effect, but really, you are smarter than that.

“Anyway,” she says, dragging every syllable out of the word, changing her voice to let you know that she’s dropping the subject, “remember that job I told you about, over at the piercing booth in the mall, the one Cici went for? The manager called me. I got an interview tomorrow.”

You’d like to go to the mall and just happen to bump into her after her interview and ask her how it went and suggest you go to Starbucks or something, but of course you’re grounded. She’s going on about what she’s going to wear and what she’s going to say and how she can get a 20 percent discount and how it’s so great because it’s right at the mall and part of you wants to point out that she doesn’t have the job yet and another part of you wants to find out who this Eric is. But one part-the part that wins-just wants to hear her talk. So other than the occasional yeahs and nos, you say nothing. It’s not what you want, not what you were hoping for, but you can hear her voice and, for now anyway, it’s good.