Eric turned away and snickered along with his best friend, Mario Rossi (7-25-2017).
Feeling my face flush, I gathered up my books and my backpack as fast as I could and followed the principal out of the room.
Harris led me through the empty hallways, his shoes making loud clacks against the terrazzo floors. I practically walked on tiptoe.
We reached his offices and passed through the doors into a large open space. All the school secretaries working there looked up in unison as we arrived. Knowing I’d never be called to the principal’s office if I wasn’t in trouble, I felt my cheeks sear with heat. “This way, Madelyn,” said Principal Harris, waving me forward through the maze of desks to his inner office at the back. The door was closed and all the blinds on the glass windows facing out were drawn. He opened the door and again waved me along inside.
Seated in the chairs in front of his large metal desk were two men about the same age as my mom: one short and heavy with a face like a bulldog; the other tall and broad-shouldered with a handsome face you could’ve seen in Hollywood. They were both dressed formally in suits and ties, and they each turned to look at me, their gazes steely and suspicious. I tugged at the zipper on my hoodie, jumping as the door closed behind me.
Principal Harris moved to his desk and took his seat, then pointed to a chair to his left. “Sit,” he said. It wasn’t a request.
I tried to swallow, but my mouth had gone dry. I moved to the chair and shrugged out of my backpack, holding it in front of me like a shield before I sat down. As I took the chair I noticed a large Word of the Day calendar on Principal Harris’s desk next to me. Today’s word was DONNYBROOK—A PUBLIC ARGUMENT.
“Madelyn,” Harris said, and I jerked, my attention back to him. “This is Special Agent Faraday of the FBI and his partner, Agent Wallace.” At the mention of their names, the two men reached into their blazer pockets and pulled out their respective badges, which they held aloft. The shiny shields reminded me of my dad’s badge. Ma still kept it in her dresser drawer.
“They’re here to discuss a most grievous and pressing situation, Madelyn,” Principal Harris said. “Please give them your full attention while they recount the details.”
The tall, broad-shouldered guy, Agent Faraday (10-2-2052), subtly rolled his eyes when Principal Harris wasn’t looking. Apparently, kids weren’t the only ones who found it hard to like our principal.
“Madelyn,” Agent Faraday started.
I hugged my backpack, feeling my heart pound against my rib cage. This was about Ma. Something had happened to her or she was in trouble.
“Is it Madelyn?” Faraday asked. “Or Maddie?”
“Maddie,” I told him, hating that my voice cracked. I was so nervous about Ma that I didn’t know if I could handle what might come next.
Agent Faraday smiled, but it held no warmth. “I thought so,” he said. “We have something very important we want to ask you, Maddie.”
My brow furrowed. What could he want to ask me about Ma? “Uh…okay.”
Agent Faraday nudged Agent Wallace (8-7-2051), and he took out a five-by-seven photograph of a kid dressed in a baseball uniform. “Have you seen this young man recently?” Wallace asked.
The appearance of the photo threw me. This didn’t seem to be about Ma at all, but what could the photo of a kid in a baseball outfit possibly have to do with me? I leaned forward to look, and at first all my attention was focused on the kid’s numbers, which were hard to read given the cap. I finally made them out, though: 10-29-2014. Yesterday. And then I looked again at the kid’s face because that date was familiar, and I realized this was Tevon Tibbolt. I could feel the blood drain from my face, and I could also see that the agents had noticed my reaction. I’d watched enough TV to know that the FBI doesn’t come around asking questions about dead kids unless they believe you had something to do with it.
I tried to think about what I should say to them. I didn’t know if it was better to tell them about the reading with Mrs. Tibbolt or play dumb. I decided to aim for something in the middle. “I haven’t seen him,” I said, which was the truth. I’d never met Tevon before.
“He went missing yesterday on his way home from school, around three P.M. Are you sure you haven’t seen him, Maddie?” Agent Faraday pressed.
I looked right at Faraday. “Yes, I’m sure.”
He and Wallace leaned back in their chairs and exchanged a look. I didn’t like it—they thought I was lying. Wallace shifted in close to me again, still holding the picture at eye level. “See, the thing is, Maddie, this boy is missing. And his mother seems to think you might know where he is.”
My brow furrowed. What? Oh God, I thought. Tevon was missing and these guys didn’t know he was dead. Worse yet, the way they were looking at me clearly suggested they thought I might’ve had something to do with it. I felt on the verge of panic, so I stuck to the truth—or a version of it. I shook my head again and said, “I don’t know the kid.” This time I even managed to raise my voice a little.
“Then why would his mother say you know him?” Agent Wallace asked casually, as if he was simply asking for a little clarification. “Why would she say that you might know where he is?”
I had no idea what Mrs. Tibbolt had said to the feds, and I felt like a rat caught in a maze with no way out. I tried to hold Wallace’s gaze. I failed. “I don’t know why she’d say something like that. I didn’t know him.”
Faraday sat up. Something I’d said alerted him. “You didn’t know him?” he repeated. “Why use the past tense, Maddie?”
I gulped. I’d just said something really stupid. In the background, I heard the bell ring to signal the end of sixth period.