Brendan Buckley's Sixth-Grade Experiment (23 page)

Morgan turned and looked straight at Dwight David, even though he had his head down. “I accept.”

Dwight David shifted uncomfortably. Was that it? He was off the hook, just like that?

Vice Principal Bowman put his pointer fingers together and touched them to his lips, as if he was thinking what to say next. His gaze landed on each of us, stopping with me. I quickly looked away—to a silver paddle hanging on the wall, engraved with two As and some symbol I didn't recognize. Vice principals weren't allowed to paddle kids anymore, were they?

“It's a little cold for the birds and the bees to be out, don't you think?”

The birds and the bees?
What the heck was this guy talking about?

Hold on. I'd seen that phrase in the book Dad had handed me a few days before I boarded the
Olympus
with Morgan and her mom, about my body going through changes and starting to like girls.

“Let me give you a little advice, Mr. Del Santos, man to man, and as someone who was once eleven and full of pep and vinegar. Chasing a girl
will
get her attention. But showing courtesy and respect is going to get you a lot farther in the women department.”

Morgan's cheeks turned as pink as Oscar's after he'd run the field.

Mr. Bowman was clearly implying that Dwight David chased Morgan down because he liked her. Dwight David was so kooky I could almost see it being true. And
it
was
obvious that he liked her. He'd been acting like a lovestruck fool at the pizza party earlier. Then there'd been that behemoth bag of M&Ms a while ago, and of course, the dance.

“And, Brendan, although it was an honorable impulse on your part to defend Miss Belcher, you crossed the line when you acted aggressively toward your fellow classmate. You owe Mr. Del Santos an apology, as well.”

Dwight David's lips turned up in a small smile.

It took all the
guk gi
—self-control—I could muster to say I was sorry. If only I'd shown a little more of it on the playing field. However, so far there'd been no talk of punishments. I wanted to get out of there before that changed. “Sorry, Dwight David.”

“So, boys, what do you say you shake hands?”

Dwight David's head was still bowed. His hands stayed in his lap. I actually felt kind of sorry for him, if he didn't know how to get Morgan's attention any better than to hunt her down like a dog after a rabbit. I reached across Morgan.

Dwight David put his scrawny hand in mine. We shook.

“Let's keep it clean out there, what do you say?” We all nodded, even Morgan. “Report back here after school, Mr. Del Santos. You'll spend an hour in my office working on homework. I'll call your grandmother to let her know. Understood?”

Dwight David gasped. “What about him?” He pointed at me.

“Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You may leave.”

Dwight David didn't waste any time. He was out the door in a flash. I stood to go.

“Not yet, Mr. Buckley.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“I'd like to speak with you privately.”

My armpits got hot.

Morgan hadn't moved.

“You may be excused, as well, Miss Belcher.”

Morgan glanced at me, then at Mr. Bowman. She stood hesitantly. “Mr. Bowman, Brendan was just trying to defend—”

“Goodbye, Miss Belcher.”

She closed her mouth. “See you later,” she whispered. I nodded. She shut the door behind her.

Mr. Bowman's chair creaked as he leaned forward. His eyes penetrated my face. “I know your father.”

My heart deflated like a punctured bike tire.

“We go way back. To our college days. We could have been great buddies, if he'd only pledged Alpha instead of Kappa.” He glanced at the silver paddle. I knew that paddle had looked familiar! Dad had one like it, but wooden, and with different letters and symbols. A fraternity paddle.

The vice principal sat back, put his hands on his belly, and smiled wide. “So, how is old Sam?”

Was that it—the reason he wanted to speak with me in private? The sweat under my arms started to cool. “He's good.” I allowed myself to smile, too. “He's a detective in the Tacoma Police Department.”

“It's detective now, eh? I saw his name in an article last year. A big drug bust, wasn't it?”

“Yes, sir.” Dad's role in the bust had been the reason he got promoted.

“I'm sorry he and I will be getting back in touch under such unfortunate circumstances.”

I stared at him. “What do you mean?” I asked, even though it was pretty clear what he meant.

“I mean, if your dad is as serious about his standards for his son as he was for himself when I knew him, I don't think he's going to be too happy to get my call.”

“Do you have to call him?” My voice came out as a squeak.

“I'm sorry to say I do.” Mr. Bowman put his elbows on his desk. “Brendan, look. You're obviously a very bright kid. You were just named a finalist in a national science competition. Congratulations for that, by the way.”

“Thanks.” I looked down.

“So, how about the next time you want to defend a girl, you use your brain and your words instead of your fists?”

“Okay.” I looked up and added quickly, “Sir.”

“Good. But I still have to call your parents. It's district policy. Along with a minimum one-day suspension for physical violence.”

My heart dropped into my shoes.
Suspension!

“I'll speak with your parents to determine the best day for you to stay home. You'll be allowed to request assignments from teachers in advance so your absence won't impede your academic progress.”

Suspension
.

The word felt like cement blocks on my feet. Mom would at least give me a chance to explain, but Dad was going to kill me.

For the next three periods, I kept to myself. I put off Morgan's and Khal's questions about what had happened in Bowman's office with promises to tell them later. At the sound of the final bell, I made a beeline for my locker, hoping to get out of there before I saw anyone.

“Brendan, what
happened
?” Morgan stood too close. “Are you in trouble?” I bent down and dug around for my gym shorts. “What did he
say
?”

I stuffed the shorts into my duffel bag.
Might as well tell her—she's going to find out eventually
. “I've been suspended.”

“Suspended!” Her eyes opened wide. Her face looked pale again. “But Dwight David started the whole thing. That's not fair!”

The hallway was crowded with kids jostling and shouting on their way to the exits, like blood cells in an
artery. I stepped back to shut my locker. Morgan grabbed my hand. “Oh, Brendan. I'm so sorry. Can your parents contest it?”

I felt like a lobster that had just been dunked in boiling water. I glanced around. Luckily, no one seemed to be noticing me standing there with a girl holding my hand.

Unluckily, Khalfani appeared, clutching his football. “What are you doing, man? We're waiting for you.” He spied our hands and made a face. I broke free.

“I have to go.” I lowered my voice. “I've been suspended.”

“
What?
No way!” Khal said.

Morgan reached out for my arm. “Maybe if I talk to Mr. Bowman again …”

“No.” I pulled away but tried to make it seem as if I were just throwing my duffel bag over my shoulder, not avoiding her. I kept my eyes on my bag. My ears were still warm from being caught with my hand in hers. “It was my fault. I didn't have to clobber him.”

Morgan's eyes got big and dreamy, like a puppy's. “Maybe so. But still, it
was
really great of you to stand up for me like that.” Her lips pushed out a little.

She wasn't about to try to kiss me again, was she? I stepped back to prevent any lip action, in case that was what she had in mind.

“So, like, do you have to get off school property immediately?” Khal asked. “Because we need five players,
and I already convinced Dwight David to play on the same team as you.”

“I don't know. I just know I have to get to my parents before Vice Principal Bowman does. Ask Cordé. He's better than me, anyway.”

“He hogs the ball.”

“You only think that because
you
hog the ball.” I felt jumpy and irritated, like a bull with too many flies buzzing around his face. If I stood there one second longer, I might start bucking. I started walking instead.

“Can I call you later?” Morgan asked.

“Are you going to Tae Kwon Do tonight?” Khalfani called.

“I don't know,” I shouted over my shoulder. And I really didn't. I didn't know anything except that I was about to get it. Big-time.

When I got home, there was a note on the fridge from Mom. She'd gone out Christmas shopping. “P.S. Bringing home teriyaki for dinner
!” she'd written.

I crumpled the note and threw it in the trash. I'd been hoping she'd be there so I could explain things to her first. Then she could act as a neutralizer when Dad had the big reaction over my being suspended.

I stayed in my room all afternoon, observing Einstein and trying not to think about what would happen when Dad got home. I was concerned about my lizard.
For the last week or so, he'd been sluggish. He didn't pounce on the crickets as soon as they landed; he'd just watch as they hopped away. His eyes were sunken in and half-closed most of the time.

I opened the lid and pushed back the plant leaves. Einstein lay on the jungle vine. He didn't even seem to notice my hand as I gently lifted him from the tank.

He felt limp. His skin looked dull. I examined him more closely. Some strange spots had appeared. I stroked his back a few times. “What's wrong, little buddy? Are you sick?” I set him gently back on his rock, checked the tank temps, and squirted the leaves a couple of times.

As soon as the lid was back on, I went to my desk and got online. I needed to find out what was wrong with Einstein. An hour later, I had a sinking feeling it might be parasites. Parasites, according to the forum posts I read, were best treated by a reptile vet. And even then, a parasite-ridden anole had a very slim chance of making it.

There was no way Dad would agree to take Einstein back to the vet. Not after the bill we'd gotten for his first checkup. And especially not after he found out I was suspended. I wasn't going to be getting any special favors for a very long time.

I went back to Einstein's tank. Why had I fed him those spiders? That was the most likely cause of the problem, since they hadn't been bred in some store.
Stupid
.

A car door slammed outside. The front door opened and shut. “Brendan!” Something told me Dad had heard from Mr. Bowman already.

I came out from my room, even though I wanted to be like Einstein and find a good place to hide.

Dad paced in the living room. “Sit,” he said as soon as he saw me.