Take My Advice

Chapter Four

A few minutes later, after much chewing and swallowing and not a lot of talking at my table, I got a note from the office. I took care of my garbage and left the lunchroom, noticing as I did that Bruce was right behind me. I figured he'd peel off and go into one of the side classrooms, but he didn't-he followed me all the way down the hall. Just before we reached the office, I turned around.  

"Listen, I'm sure you have better things to do than playing my shadow. What gives?"  

"What are you talking about? I got a note to come to the office." He held up a scrap of paper very similar to mine.  

"Oh." I felt a little stupid. Why had we both been asked to come in? We weren't getting in trouble for our little daily lunchroom banter, were we? He didn't mean anything by it, and neither did I. We just mutually disliked each other and chose to express our true feelings rather than pushing them down, where they might fester and turn into some kind of flesh-eating disease. That was the healthiest way to deal with our emotions, after all. We should never be afraid to share how we feel.  

Ms. Young and Mr. Leffert were both waiting for us in the office, and they looked back and forth between us with a bit of alarm. Ms. Young took me by the elbow and guided me off to the left, while Mr. Leffert asked Bruce to join him in his office.  

"What's going on?" I asked Ms. Young. "If this is about that ketchup I put in Bruce's notebook last week, it was just a silly prank and I already apologized. Sort of."  

She took a deep breath. "You and Bruce weren't supposed to be summoned at the same time-the office must have misunderstood. I need you to do something for me, Jill. Forget you saw him in here, all right?"  

"Forget . . ." All of a sudden, I realized what she was trying to tell me. Bruce had sent me the mysterious letter-he had a notebook with the same kind of paper (although to be honest, notebook paper does pretty much all look the same) and he did seem to be walking a little carefully. That whole not-palling-around-with-his-pals thing at lunch-that was probably because he was in too much pain to arm wrestle.  

"I won't say anything," I promised. "That's his business, not mine."  

Ms. Young let out her breath in a whoosh. "Thanks, Jill. You really are a professional. And a good friend."  

I felt a stab of guilt thinking about Amanda, even though I knew that wasn't what she meant. "Bruce and I aren't friends. We're kind of the opposite."  

"Regardless, I appreciate what you're doing."  

I shifted a little in my seat. "What did you need to see me about?"  

"Oh, that. I just wanted to let you know that we'd figured out who sent you the letter. I thought you'd be worried."  

"I was. Thanks for telling me."  

We chatted for another minute or two about newspaper stuff, and then I rose to leave. I was just about to step into the hallway when Bruce came charging out of Mr. Leffert's office, anger roiling off him in waves of steam. He grabbed my arm, his teeth clenched. "We need to talk."  

"And you need to take your hands off me." I glared up into his face until he let go.  

"Fine. But come here."  

I followed him into the hall and down a quiet corridor. Classes were in session all around us and the place looked deserted.  

"I can't believe you turned in my letter. I thought you could help me in private. Why'd you have to drag them into it?"  

"Bruce, I'm not allowed to answer questions about abuse and stuff like that. This is serious. You're getting hurt." I had noticed the way he winced when he grabbed me-he was obviously still in pain. "You need to get checked out-I bet that rib is broken."  

"Shh!" He glanced around and then brought his gaze back to me. "Coach is already mad that I sat out practice yesterday. What do you think he'd do if he found out I had a broken rib?"  

"You can't keep it quiet forever."  

"Well, I'm going to try. And you had no right to sic Mr. Leffert on me. He asked me all kinds of questions, if I wanted to press charges against my dad . . . and he said he had to call the cops."  

"He does. It's the law. If he finds out there's been abuse, or if he even suspects it, he has to report it. It's to keep you safe."  

"No, it's to ruin my life." Bruce brought his face within inches of mine, and I could smell the onions he'd eaten for lunch. "You don't get it. You have the perfect life, everyone likes you, not a care in the world. And then there are people like me who have to fight for what we get, carve it out of the mud. We don't have it so easy. We don't have all the answers."  

"I don't have all the answers either, Bruce." I didn't know what was happening to me-I was usually so sure about myself, that what I was saying and doing was right, but here was a guy in real need and I had no idea how to help him.  

"Yeah, I can see that now. Coming to you was a mistake-I bet you've never had a serious problem in your entire life."  

My parents' faces flashed through my mind. "Now, that's not true. I've had a lot of bad stuff happen to me-"  

"Save it. I don't want to hear about the day you got a stain on your favorite skirt."  

Bruce strode off down the hall, his arm tucked in against his side. I knew I'd done the right thing by turning in the note, but it also felt like the worst decision I'd ever made.