Tonight the Streets Are Ours

The principal’s eyes widened. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”


Arden could tell he was dying to ask where she went, and why she left, and whether she was ever coming back. The same sort of questions that Arden herself was wondering about, really. He didn’t ask, though, maybe because he didn’t want to be rude, or maybe because he didn’t actually care about the answers as much as he cared about leaving his office and diving headfirst into his weekend. She wondered if he had a special place in his closet for weekend neckties, and, if so, she wondered just how wild they got.

“As you can see,” Arden’s father said, “this is not Arden’s typical behavior. But it hasn’t been a typical month for our family.”

That was an understatement.

“I hear what you’re saying completely, and you’re right that this is Arden’s first offense,” Mr. Vanderpool agreed, going on as though Arden herself weren’t actually present in the room with him. “Nonetheless,” Vanderpool continued, “a zero tolerance policy means that the school is obligated to respond to her actions with disciplinary action, no matter what her background and circumstances. I’ve already decided against expulsion—”

“Expulsion!” Arden cried.

Both men looked at her.

“You would actually expel somebody just for having a teeny tiny bit of marijuana in her locker?” Arden demanded. She was starting to get the very bad feeling that when she stepped in to save Lindsey, she was getting way more than she bargained for.

“You would really consider such a severe retribution against a little girl who made a small mistake?” her dad added.

Arden was hardly little, but she shrank down in the big winged wood chair to try to appear like she was.

“As I said, we decided against expulsion. But of course, we must take some action.”

And here’s what the action was:

Arden would be suspended for three days.

She would no longer be allowed to tutor the underclassmen, lest she expose them to her drug-addled ways.

She would be allowed to keep doing theater, provided that she stuck to stage crew and other backstage responsibilities—nothing where she showed her marijuana-owning face on stage.

All of this would go on her permanent record, and when she applied to colleges next year, Allegany High would inform every school that she had a history of drug possession.

“Mr. Vanderpool,” Arden appealed to him, feeling her breathing grow shallow, “please don’t. I could actually not get into college because of this.”

“You know how competitive the college admission game is these days,” her father agreed. “Those admissions officers are looking for any reason not to accept a student.”

Mr. Vanderpool spread his hands helplessly, as if to indicate It’s out of my control, which was stupid—of course it was in his control, it was his decision—and he said, “Arden has always been aware of the school rules. She should have considered the consequences before she decided to break them.”

“I can’t believe you, Arden!” her dad yelled, slamming his palm down on the desk. “You really didn’t think this one through, kid.”

He was right. She really hadn’t. It’s for Lindsey, it’s for Lindsey, she reminded herself, knotting her fingers together in her lap. Her permanent record could take it, probably. Lindsey was going to have a hard enough time getting into college even without this mark against her. Her father could deal with it, probably. Lindsey’s parents would have most likely sent her to military school. It’s for Lindsey, it’s for Lindsey.

Arden had just never imagined that when she threw Lindsey a life jacket, she would be drowning herself.





Arden and Lindsey see how the other half lives