Wild Cards

I glance at my friends and signal for them to keep their mouths shut when I realize that more than a few of them are about to fess up. No reason all of us should get in trouble just because Crowe lacks a sense of humor.  

I nod. "I acted alone, sir. But technically I didn't steal the van. I borrowed it." There were three pigs and it took all six of us to pull it off, but I'm keeping that info to myself. I wait for him to slap me with detention and order me to wash floors or bathrooms or something humiliating. Whatever. Detention during summer session will be a piece of cake since less than 20 percent of the school population stays on campus.

"The rest of you gentlemen are dismissed," Crowe declares. He takes a seat in his big leather chair and picks up his phone as my friends .le out. "Martha, call Mrs. Fitzpatrick and inform her that her stepson has been expelled."  

Wait! What?  

"Expelled?" I practically choke on the word. What about a warning or detention or suspension? "It was a harmless prank."  

He carefully hangs up the phone. "Expelled. Actions have con­sequences, Mr. Fitzpatrick. Despite numerous warnings about your cheating, drug use, and pranks, you have again disobeyed our rules and proven yourself unworthy to be a student at Regents Preparatory Academy. Obviously this also means you will not be invited to rejoin us for your senior year."  

I don't move or say anything. This is not happening. I can count a dozen other students who've gotten caught pulling pranks and have escaped without so much as a warning. I accidentally left my notes on the floor during a test and Mr. Rappaport wrote me up for cheating. And the drug accusation . . . okay, so I went to a party with a few friends and came home wasted. I didn't mean to puke on the statue of Regents' founder after I found out some­one slipped XTC into my drink, and I sure as hell wasn't the one to post pics of me puking on the school website. A certain senior on student council was responsible for that one, although he never got caught because nobody would accuse a guy whose dad donates a crapload of money to the school every year.

"Since you've already finished your finals, I'll be lenient and allow you to receive full credit for your junior year. As a courtesy to your father, I'll also grant you forty-eight hours to remove your belongings from campus." He starts writing on a piece of paper, then glances up at me when he realizes I'm not moving. "That will be all, Mr. Fitzpatrick."  

Lenient?  

I walk to the junior dorm as the absurdity of my situation sets in. I'm being kicked out of Regents and have to move back home. With my stepmother, who lives in her own, clueless world. This is bullshit.  

My roommate, Jack, is sitting on the edge of his bed, shaking his head. "I heard Crowe say you got expelled."  

"Yep."  

"Maybe if we all go back there and tell him the truth, he'll rethink-"  

"If your dad finds out, he'll make your life a livin' hell. The other guys'll be in the same boat."  

"You shouldn't take the fall for this alone, Derek."  

"Don't sweat it," I say. "Crowe had it in for me. This just gave him the excuse he needed to kick me out."  

A half hour later Brandi calls. My stepmother's heard the news from Crowe and will drive the three hours from San Diego to Regents tomorrow. She doesn't yell or lecture me or act like she's my mom. Instead, she says she'd try to convince Crowe to change his mind about expelling me. As if that's gonna work. I doubt Brandi was a member of her high school debate team. I don't have much faith in her persuasion skills. To be honest, I'm not even sure she graduated from high school.