Pass Me the Book: Plotting and Veto

I cheated. The principal's office smelled like old white out on test days. The exam, though, was days ago. Despite the unyeilding Ms. Stone, I passed with ease. That's what made her suspicious. I was a jock. My soft hands can catch even a golf ball thrown seventy yards. Today, however, I won't be catching anything. I should not have told Big Hains to pass me the book. He's a lineman. All ten of Ms. Stone's fingers pointed to me, the wide reciever. Improvising worked better on the feild.

"Mr. Nile Jones," said Principal Geer, "you're next on the stand. I should have you swear on the book you stole."

Frames of Will, her cat, hung on all four walls. The whole school knew him. She carried him to Friday's games. When everyone cheered, Will watched calmly from her purse. I wish he was here. His mere presence softened her heart. The large portrait above her desk wasn't enough. The apples aligned by her name plate, though, was a good sign. A card was attached to each stem. The cheerleading team thanked her. They returned from the city tornument for the big game. She openly supported the squad. I began showing her some appreciation of my own. I needed her permission to play.

"Nile, what is that you're doing?"

I performed an original touchdown dance in her honor.

"I call it, 'The In-Gear Turning Wheel.' What do you think?"

"It's ridiculously sweet," she laughed.

The blinds were closed, and so was the door. I sat down and wiped my forehead with her Kleenex. We were connected, like an end zone on turf.

"So, you'll let me play."

A public display of my gratitude would be most flattering.

"We haven't even discussed the accusations, Mr. Jones." She put her glasses on and skimmed through the files. "They're quite serious."

"You gotta' be looking at the wrong file, Mrs. G."

I spotted my name on the manilla tab. She checked it twice and grabbed a jotting pad from her drawer. The pen on her blouse looked brand new. If she wanted to break it in, I would've suggested she let me write my side of the story.

"I know how bad you would like to play today, Nile," she sympathized, "so I will allow you to take me back in time by use of your tongue. Reading can be boring you know," she added, "even for a principal."

I admit that her idea was better. Writing it down would take hours. By the time I finished, the bleachers would be half filled. If I left out anything, I'd be left on the sidelines, watching. A principal who avoided the trechery of reading was a jock's dream. She must have skimmed through my file. The obtuse statement from Ms. Stone proved the old lady sought vengence, not virtue. If Ms. Stone allowed her emotions to prevail against rational thought, I needed to be vindicated.

"Now let's start at the beginning, shall we?"

I stared at the portrait of Will, hoping to be possessed with favor.

"Okay," I said primed.

I began at the pool hall. My mom never allowed me to go, but it was cause for a celebration. We beat Elvington, last year's city champs. They were called Eagles, we were Bears. It was the first time anyone ever seen mammals fly.

"How did you get in under aged?"

"I'm not at liberty to say, but don't worry," I assured her, "the owner thought we were college kids. Your name is in the clear. You're a principal, not a dean. I was sure to look out for you."

"Thanks," she said, seemingly unconvinced. "Continue on."

"All the tables were occupied, so Big Hains, Motts, and I played foosball by the bar..."

"Did you have a drink?"

"Of course not," I said, forgetting about Motts' little sip, "we're atheletes. Besides," I added, "the next day was picture day. What would the superintendant think if he saw your student atheletes hungover in your yearbook, Ms. G?"

She paused and gazed at ceiling.

"Resume your story, Mr. Jones."

I let Big Haines win a few times to tame him. He hates losing. If he got angry, our cover would've been blown. Peices of our faces sprinkling down like rain, all because of Hains' explosion. I told Principal Geer this to prove I wasn't all about winning. I have to play today, simply because my teammates count on me. All leaders are examples to followers. We were shocked when the president walked in. She was part of some older guy's entourage.

"Did you say Babs Floyd, my student body president?"

"Everything isn't what it seems, Ms. G," I paused, "like, who knew that brown leather ball was actually pigskin?"

With shame, Principal Geer stared at a random spot on the wall. She avoded eye contact with Will in the photos. Nonetheless, I continued my story near the exit. We were leaving. Members of the entourage had taken over the foosball table by force. Motts was ecstatic because he no longer had to listen me complain about the upcoming algebra test. On our way the door, I overheard Babs arguing with the old guy about today's game. A bet concluded the dispute. That's when I realized that our team's success meant something everybody, not just us in uniform.

"Hue Fillman," she said.

"Who?"

"No, it's Hue." She slammed her pad on the desk and said, "He's Trademark's school principal. We dated in college. I broke up with him and he framed me. Everyone thought I was the narcissist. I would love nothing more than to crush his psychotic ego."

"My mother was a narcissist," I lied. "Narcissism is best understood first hand. I guarantee everyone didn't believe him, only those without a clue. Who needs their approval, right?"

"I guess you're right," she sighed. "Please, carry on..."

She cracked open the window. The large portrait of Will almost lifted off the hinges. She ran to it and held it down. A vulnerable principal was all I needed. Irrational thinking could be the result of her vulnerability.

I remembered the long walk to the car that night. We spotted Babs upset by an old cadillac. A bearded guy from the entourage consoled her. She locked herself the car. Her boyfriend went after her and drove off. We were next. I mentioned the test again, and Motts finally snapped. He proposed a solution. I thought of a better one. We were on our way to the first ever high school night class.

"You mean here," she asked, "to J. Well High?"

"Yes, maam. We pulled in the parking lot at midnight..."

She listened as explained our crime. Breaking and entering for any reason was a sure life sentence. We checked all the windows and one was left open. Motts and I climed in and let Big Hains in through the side door. The hinges screeched. We paused a heard running water. We hid until it stopped.

"Janitor Cooley," she said, evidently not surprised. "Go on."

"We crept to Ms. Stone's room door. After arguing about how to get in, we realized it was opened..."

"And then what?"

"We saw it," I said, "the Algebra Textbook Teacher's Edition. Big Haines got in three point stance, charged toward the table, and grabbed it. Motts and I were the lead blockers. We ran out there as fast as we could. My car was the end zone."

I used symbolism to show my intent. We weren't practical jokers, we were jocks. I had to pass in order to play. While running, Big Haines tripped and fell. The book slid across the floor and stopped by another.

"What happened next?"

"Well," I said, "he went after it."

"Were you scared?"

"Yea," I replied, "but the main problem was that it was so dark that he couldn't tell one from the other. He panicked and picked one. That's when I told him to pass me the book."

"Then, I suppose you got away?"

"The end..."

A knock at door startled us both.

"Who is it?" asked Principal Geer.

"It's me..."

She opened the door and my eyes widened.

"Miss Floyd," she said, "are you in need of something?"

"I meant to steal the book," admitted Babs. "My new boyfriend and I snuck in the building after I told him about my obsession with staright A's. We broke into Ms. Stone's class looking for the book." She paused then said, "we actually did more kissing than looking. I thought I put the right one in my purse..."

"When you got in the car," I interrupted, "it wasn't there."

"I dropped it."

"Then, what?" asked Principal Geer.

"I went back inside, found the book on floor and realized it was the wrong one."

"And that's when you saw us."

"Yea, may I recommend my punishment, Ms. Geer?"

"No," she strictly replied, "whatever you request is vetoed."

I was saved by democracy. Principal Geer demoted her to vice president and sentenced her to one week detention. It was our destiny to beat Hue Fillman and Trademark High. After we won, Ms. Geer added to our victory by slapping Principal Fillman in the face. Revenge is sweet. Babs took her demotion with dignity, and was rewarded fifty bucks from her old friend. Everything worked out, which was scary. Neither of us involved were in total control. See, we make our own decisions, but it's destiny that decides the outcomes. Go Bears!

THE END