Misfit Theater Company (Wattys Winner 2018)

29. Some Strange, Dream-Like Detour

           

I'm not saying my plan is good. In fact, it is incredibly stupid. Not only that: if I get caught, Mom will definitely remember to take my phone and ground me maybe forever. The plan is simple: wait until Mom is asleep, sneak out of the house, and then go to Thatcher's shed. For some reason, I have a feeling he is there, waiting for me. If he is, I will be able to figure out what's going on, but if he isn't, I'll sneak back home.

It won't be easy. Our house is old and creaky, and my mom is crazy and suspicious. But I have to try, right?

I run through the plan over and over until I'm sure my mom has to be sleeping and it's past midnight. But then I wonder if Thatcher would wait in his shed for me all that time—I wouldn't if I were him. I wasn't even planning to wait. There's no way he's still there, so what would I be risking for nothing? My freedom, my phone.

The plan is stupid, I think, so I lay down and go to bed; but that doesn't stop me from playing out what I'll say to Thatcher when I see him second period tomorrow: "What happened? Are we okay? How much trouble are you in? Do you still want to be with me?"

I prep myself for the answer I'm anticipating. It was good while it lasted.

***

First period math drags on and on and on and on, like it always does. I have no idea what Mr. Buford is trying to show us on the board, nor do I care. The best I can do is sit still and quiet as the minutes march toward the end of class. I think at one point Layla tries to taunt me again, but honestly, I don't have any energy left to worry about her or Gina or the plays. I can only stand to worry about one thing at a time, and right now, it's Thatcher.

Class gets out at 8:52, but at 8:47, a call comes through, breaking me from my trance and sending Mr. Buford's eyes into the most exaggerated roll I've seen in my life.

"Mr. Buford," he answers. Then his eyes dart to me. "Yeah, she's here. Yep, I'll send her. Okay. Okay, bye."

He hangs up.

"Janie, they need you in the office, take your stuff. Okay, now back to what I was talking about. So, polynomials."

I zone out again as I pack my papers back into my binder and head toward the door. Layla says something about me being a trouble maker under her breath, but I just keep walking. Now I have even less room in my brain to worry about her. Why am I being called to the office?

As I make my way down the hall to the office, my head spins, spiraling my thoughts.

What if the police told the school about what the loitering?

Wait, why would the school care?

Why would the police take time to make sure our principal knew?

It's probably just about my 504 plan.

Maybe Alice is here to give me more tests.

Maybe they discovered another good thing about me, like my high intelligence. Maybe that will help my mom get over the anger she feels toward me right now.

But when I finally make my way into the office, I immediately hear the reason why I've been called down. The principal Dr. Howard's door has been left open, and just that crack lets out enough of the conversation to send chills through my body.

"I can assure you, Thatcher Gorsky has had a clean record here at school. I can't imagine him being a bad influence to anyone, Ms. Myers," Dr. Howard protests in his somewhat monotone voice.