Dodgeball

Chapter 37: A too-perfect face

I scroll up to the top and press "print," collecting my evidence as it rolls out of Dr. Fronk's printer like a tongue. Then I do it. I type in Justin Connor and my dead classmate's entire academic history appears on the screen. Unlike Gerard's, it's perfect. Not a single misstep, B minus effort or botched quiz. Too perfect. I think of "Too-perfect face" again. Finally, I swallow hard and hover the cursor over "select all." The evidence is here for my taking. The comprehensive academic records of every student in the high school program at Putnam are just a click away. I will be able to establish patterns of behavior, and ultimately, create an algorithm that may enable me to identify which teacher is likely the one who was helping Justin and Gerard, and who knows who else, maintain perfect scores.

I glance up at the door. Easter is still on the lookout, her back turned to me. Through the glass pane, I can see the door to Mr. Davidazhar's math class. It's too dark for me to actually read the honor quote that's written above it, but I know what's there anyway. It reads, "All honor's wounds are self-inflicted." It's by Andrew Carnegie. Damn.

"She's coming," Easter says and my hand jerks away from the cursor.

I jump up and rush to Easter's side and we both stand behind the door, praying that Bettina walks right by. I can hear her heels clicking on the floor. She's wearing pumps, like it's a regular work day. She stops at Mr. Davidazhar's classroom, her keys jingling, but she doesn't go in.

"She's locking up," Easter whispers. Great.

Bettina walks across the hall, until she's standing right smack on the other side of the door and I'm terrified that she can actually hear us breathing. Her keys are out again, tinkling like homemade wind chimes, until suddenly she stops.

"Oh, hi, Ronald," she says. "I didn't expect to see you here today."

Easter and I whip around to look at each other. It's Dr. Fronk!

Bettina walks a few paces and meets him at the center of the hall. We can hear them talking about - what else? Justin. They're both planning on attending his private service this week.

"Twila," Easter says. "We have to get out of here."

Like I didn't know that. She points at the windows, but they're the pull-out kind that open into a V.

"Look, we're both thin, but I don't think we're that thin," I tell her.

"I think we can do it, and we have to act now or we're totally busted," she says.

Easter walks to one of the windows and opens it up all the way, and as quietly as she can. Stepping onto the radiator, she throws her coat outside, and puts one foot out the window, then her other, shimmying down. About half way through she gets stuck. I put my ear to the door, and Bettina and Dr. Fronk are still talking. I'm too freaked to concentrate on making out what they're saying, but at least they're still engaged in a conversation and not heading this way. Not yet.

"Twila!" Easter whispers, and I run over to her.

"It's your sweater," I say.

Pulling and yanking, I finally get the thing off her and she slinks through the window and lands in a thump on the ground outside.

"Come on," she says.

I throw my coat out and start my exit, but then I remember Gerard and Justin's grades and run back to Dr. Fronk's desk, swiping them off the printer, and stuffing them into my jeans pocket. I lean over the computer and put my hand on the mouse.

"Twila, no!" Easter rasps. And yes, I know it will take God-knows-how-many-minutes for this thing to print out probably hundreds of pages, but I feel like this is our only chance. Blinking hard, I reach over and open Dr. Fronk's top desk drawer. Inside, it's a mess, with a stick-pile of pencils, sharpeners, clips, and...thumb drives. Bingo! Not letting myself think about it this time, I plug the drive into Dr. Fronk's computer and hit "download all."