Chapter Text
Ben braced himself at the door to first period.
Over the weekend, he had spent his time playing it cool. He had done all of his homework, completed all his chores, and whittled away the hours playing videogames in the safety of his room. To the outside world, it was the same routine he had been following for nearly eighteen years of his life. Now, though, it felt like he was getting away with something.
Lynn had texted him around noon on Saturday, letting him know that her, Brittney, and Dakota had all managed to get home safely. They were going to talk more on Monday.
Lynn: nice job btw
Lynn: threw that gatorade like a champ
Lynn: you should play baseball
Ben: Maybe you should, too.
Ben: You already stole second base with me.
Lynn: :p
Ben had pumped his fist.
Score.
I’m so in, bro.
For two long days, Ben had imagined himself living like a secret spy, laying low in a safehouse after a dangerous operation. His dad hadn’t questioned him very hard, and he hadn’t found the baggie of weed still stuffed beneath his mattress. No cops had shown up at his door. The longer nothing happened, the more confident he felt.
He had ridden high, those two weekend days. Now, it was Monday.
It was time for first period.
Time for Hannah.
Ben stood in front of the classroom door, gathering his nerve. Playing along with Hannah’s crush had all sounded very easy, at least when he was bragging about it to Lynn, but now that he was actually facing the prospect of seeing her again, he felt his courage begin to wane. Talking to her had always been an intimidating experience. The fact that she actually liked him only made it more daunting, oddly enough.
Also, he had broken into her locker on Friday, which McNamara had almost definitely chewed her out for, even though none of the drug money ended up being stolen. Considering the fact that Ben had been caught following her that exact same day, it would not be hard for her to figure out the culprit.
He stared at the door to AP Lit, feeling nervous.
Ultimately, his decision was made by a fellow classmate, who walked up behind him and opened the door. Ben didn’t want to look like weird, so he followed behind.
The classroom itself was the same—shelves of books, rows of desks, posters of dead writers, a whiteboard stained with rainbow markers and streaks of black eraser. The morning sun was streaming bright and strong. Ben dropped his essay on the stack of papers at Ms. Kimathi’s desk and went toward his seat.
Hannah was sitting in her usual spot, one desk behind his. She was wearing a loose set of jeans paired with a black, sleeveless rash guard. It looked like she had barely changed her clothes from morning surf practice. Her friends were all chatting around her, but the shark was just staring out the window, her black eyes hazy and distant, as if lost in her own world.
The instant that Ben entered their row of desks, she snapped to life, piercing him with her gaze. The movement was a little too quick, a little too eager.
Oh boy.
Here we go.
“Morning!” Hannah called, suddenly bright and grinning.
“Morning,” Ben replied, as if he didn’t care.
He sat down at his desk, ignoring her. He pulled out his copy of As I Lay Dying and pretended to flip through the pages. He stared up at the whiteboard, watching Ms. Kimathi write an overview of the coming test. He noticed, after a moment, that the conversation between Hannah’s friends had completely stopped. He felt the heavy weight of their gazes, like a wall made of expectation.
He waited for the inevitable.
A pencil poked into his shoulder.
“How’s it goin’, amigo?” Hannah asked.
Ben waited a few seconds, took a single breath, and twisted around in his seat. Hannah was leaning forward on her desk, her gray sandpaper skin shining in the sun. Below the black eyes, her smile was nice and easy. Her friends all watched from the sides.
Don’t look at her tits.
Don’t look.
“Oh, you know,” Ben said, meeting her eye. “It’s alright.”
She nodded, humming. Her attitude towards him did not seem any different than usual. “Hm. Hm-hm. Cool. That’s really cool, homie.”
“Yeah.”
One friend snickered. Two more immediately shushed her.
“Say,” Hannah said, “whaddya do over the weekend?”
Ben kept his expression as neutral as possible. When he spoke, his voice was only slightly shaken. “Not much.”
“Yeah? Tell me about it.”
“Just played video games in my room.”
“What game?”
“Metal Gear Solid 4.”
“What’s it about?”
“Cutscenes.”
Hannah nodded along, as if this fascinated her. The rash guard she wore was very tight around the chest. As she bobbed her head, the motion ended up jiggling. . . .
Don’t look at her tits. You know she wants you to.
Don’t do it.
“What’d you do?” Ben asked. “More surf practice?”
She leaned forward, resting her chin on a closed fist. Her tits settled on the desk. “No. Had some problems come up. Spent the whole weekend putting out fires, mostly.”
She looked at him. He looked at her.
“It’s hard to trust people nowadays,” Hannah said.
“Yeah,” Ben replied.
“You think things are going so well, and you just decide, hey, I’ll take a chance on someone, just a tiny little risk, and—” She snapped her fingers. “Bam! They make you regret it. You know, betrayal really hurts.”
Ben nodded along.
“I mean,” Hannah said, “what are you supposed to do, when something like that happens? Like, how do you confront this person? Especially, you know, when you still care about them?”
She looked at him, her fin upturned in the morning light, her shoulders still pumped from a morning swim. She barely fit inside her desk. Behind her, nearly half a dozen girls were watching with impatient eyes.
“I dunno,” Ben said, hearing the shake in his voice. “That’s really tough. Sorry you’re going through that.”
“Oh, Benjy. Thank you. That’s really sweet.”
Several girls leaned into a circle behind Hannah, whispering together. Ms. Kimathi was still writing quotes on the classroom whiteboard.
“Actually,” Hannah said, “you know what?”
“What?”
“The whole experience was kinda good for me, in a way. It forced me to do a lot of thinking. A lot of . . . reconsidering.”
“Really?” Ben asked, not believing her.
“Yeah. I’ve reconsidered a lot of things.” She leaned back in her seat, putting a hand on her chest. Ben did not look at her tits. “You know, we’re almost adults now. It’s time we really started acting mature about things, don’t you think?”
“Maybe you should, yeah.”
“No, I mean we.”
“We?”
“Yeah,” Hannah said, looking at him. “You and me.”
Ben immediately sensed a minefield in the road ahead. He tried to swerve away. “What do I have to be mature about?”
She snickered. “Oh, Benjy, come on.”
“What?”
“We all know.”
He knew this was another trap, but he couldn’t stop himself in time. “You all know what?”
“Well, for one thing, you keep staring at my tits.”
He reddened. “I’m not staring at your tits.”
“It’s okay,” Hannah said. “A lot of guys do it, believe me.” She wiggled her shoulders. “They’re really good tits, if I say so myself.”
“I’m not staring at your tits.”
“You’re doing it right now.”
“No, I’m not!”
There was snickering behind her. A few kids turned to look.
“It’s okay!” Hannah said, as if reassuring him. “Really, I don’t mind. In fact, I kinda like you looking at my tits. You’re so hard to read, and that tells me a lot.”
Ben tried to turn forward in his desk, shutting the entire conversation away. He felt a rough, sandpapery hand close around his shoulder. When he turned back around, he saw the tip of her snout stabbing towards his face, like the prow of a sailboat rushing across the sea.
He blushed and flinched.
“It’s okay,” Hannah said, now very close. Her voice was quiet and raspy, her breath as cool as a breeze. “I know you’re shy, Benjy. I know it’s hard to climb out of your shell.”
He glared back at her. “Some people make it hard.”
“Oh, don’t be embarrassed.” She grinned. Her grip was very strong. “Look, I know we’ve had our differences, and maybe we’ve grown apart over the years, and, you know, full disclosure, I may have acted like a bitch a couple times.”
I fucking hate you.
You cunt.
You cum-sucking whore.
Fuck you.
“Like I said,” Hannah said, “I’ve done some reconsidering, and I wanna turn over a new leaf, just between us.”
“Yeah?” Ben asked, smoldering. “How’s that?”
“I wanna take you on a date.”
There was a chorus of “ooooooo”s and “aaahhhhhh”s behind her. Hannah let go of his shoulder and leaned back against her desk, letting a hint of teeth emerge between her smile.
Up ahead, at the front of class, Ms. Kimathi was still writing on the fucking whiteboard.
“Really?” Ben asked, making his doubt very obvious. “You wanna go out with me?”
“Sure,” Hannah replied. She folded her hands across her desk, tucking the elbows together. “I know you wanna go out with me.”
The way she moved her arms ended up cupping her breasts. They spilled over her elbow. The rash guard she wore was tight, leaving very little to the imagination. For a moment, Ben could’ve sworn she wasn’t even wearing a bra.
When he met her eye again, she was smirking.
She got me.
Fuck.
“Looking at something?” Hannah asked, sweetly.
“No,” Ben replied, lamely, struggling not to look again. He got mad at himself, adding: “Look, what do you want?”
“What do I want?” She chuckled, glancing at her friends, as if it was just like him to say something like that. “I think I told you what I want, Benjy. Do I need to spell it out?”
“No,” Ben said. “I think I got the idea. This is going to be, like, one of those fake dates where the pretty girl asks the nerdy guy to go out with her, only to laugh when he gets his hopes up. I know your plays, Hannah.”
Hannah’s smirk grew wider. “You think I’m pretty?”
God fucking damnit.
“I’ll think about it,” Ben said, turning back again.
“Don’t think too hard,” Hannah said, behind him. “It’ll be easy. We’ll just hang out, in the quad, after school, and talk a while. Nothing much. You know, I really want to hear about that thing you did on Friday.”
His blood ran cold. He turned back around, looking her in the eye.
She was still smirking.
“That game you played,” Hannah continued. “What was it again? Metal Grate Solid?”
“. . . Metal Gear Solid.”
“Yeah! That’s it!” Her smirk became a smile. “Boy, you love your games, huh?”
Ben shrugged, his face carefully blank.
“Yeah,” Hannah said. “I would love to hear about this game you played on Friday. And the rest of the weekend.” She opened her gray hands, her face as friendly as a skull. “Maybe we could play this game together, sometime.”
Ben blinked.
On the other side of class, the door swung open, and McNamara stepped inside.
Nearly all conversation stopped. People looked up, shared glances, quickly lowered their heads. The middle-aged rhino ignored all the attention as she sauntered across the front of class, her boots making heavy thuds on the tiled floor. Every step was loud in the sudden silence. She did not look at any one particular kid.
Ben tried not to stare.
“Oh, yes?” Ms. Kimathi asked, her tail raising in surprise. “What can I do for you, officer?”
McNamara stopped, adjusted her duty belt, and leaned over to whisper in the serval’s ear. For a few moments, the only sound in the class was the gentle ticking of the clock. When the rhino leaned away, Ms. Kimathi’s ears flattened on her head, and her eyes began to roam across the sea of gathered desks, searching for a particular face.
She settled on Ben.
“Benjamin Finch?”
For a long, horrible moment, Ben lost his voice, leaving his mouth flapping without a word. He clawed it back with a struggle. “Yes?”
“You’re wanted in the principal’s office,” Ms. Kimathi said.
McNamara narrowed her eyes, looking at him from between the apex of her horn. Ben could not tell if she recognized his face. Either way, her expression was very serious. Ben nodded, felt his mouth turn dry, gathered his notebook and reading material, stuffed it into his backpack, and jerkily stood up from his seat.
On a whim, he turned to Hannah. “After school?”
The shark seemed very surprised to see McNamara. When she tore her gaze from the rhino, and looked up at him from her seat, Ben saw a moment of real, naked fear in her eye. He could immediately tell that the relationship between her and the school’s truant officer was not a friendly one. At least, not anymore.
“Uh, yeah,” she said. “After school.”
“In the quad?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll see you there,” Ben said.
Hannah nodded, eyes flitting between him and McNamara.
He stumbled up the aisle of desks. He kicked someone’s backpack and mumbled an apology. By the time he reached the front of class, McNamara was already at the door, holding it wide open, beckoning with a curled finger. Ben exited the room with the feeling of three dozen stares on his back. It was not every day that an AP kid got in trouble with the police, and he knew people would quickly spread the news.
McNamara walked through the hall, her boots thudding heavily on the floor. Ben followed behind.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The school’s front office seemed a bit more hectic than usual.
Ben had entered this office only a couple times during his tenure at Saint Carver High, sometimes to deal with paperwork, sometimes to wait for his dad as he used the school’s printer to make a stack of worksheets. The few times Ben had been here, it had seemed like a quiet, relaxed office where administrators shuffled around papers and chatted over coffee. Now, when he entered, there seemed to be a notable tension in the air. Several middle-aged women jerked their heads in surprise. When they saw who it was, they looked away just as fast.
Maybe he was imagining things.
McNamara took a sharp left, cutting around the reception desk and heading into the back. After squeezing across a nurse’s station, Ben was greeted by a tiny waiting area surrounded by multiple office doors, with several seats posted up against the frosted glass windows. Currently, they were two people sitting outside the vice principal’s office.
Lynn and Brittney.
Ben’s heart began to sink. Something about seeing the two here, sitting in these chairs, clearly just having been interrogated, brought it home as to how screwed he really was. The school had caught them all right away. His career as a criminal punk had already been brought to a loud, grinding halt.
“Quit it!” McNamara hissed.
Lynn had been leaning over to whisper in Brittney’s ear. Both of them snapped back in their chairs, mouths shut.
“You’re in trouble,” the rhino continued. “Act like it.”
Brittney looked away, fingering a hole in her fishnets. Lynn folded her arms, glaring back up at McNamara. McNamara gave a rough snort, ignored Lynn’s gaze, opened the door to the vice principal’s office, and gestured Ben inside.
“Go in. She’s waiting.”
Ben shuffled towards the door. He glanced at Lynn. The punk rat levelled him with a nasty, furious gaze, just like she had when they first met. He got the feeling that the anger wasn’t directed at him, but the sight of it still startled him all the same.
His nerves only got worse.
He stepped inside the vice principal’s office. It was not very large. He saw a polished mahogany desk, a potted plant in a corner, a window shuddered with blinds, a framed master’s degree hanging on a back wall. There was a single chair in front of the desk. Next to a bookshelf, there was a motivational poster, which showed a multi-headed signpost. The caption below read:
Your Attitude Determines Your Direction.
Behind the desk, a middle-aged rat looked up from the bulky screen of her computer. For just a moment, her expression was nearly as bad as Lynn’s, so full of loathing and malice that it seemed to drip straight from her whiskers. But the anger vanished, replacing itself so fast that Ben wondered if he’d only been imagining it, as if he was projecting the hatred from one rat to the next. In its place, there was only a smile.
It was a very warm smile.
“Please,” the woman said. “Sit.”
Feeling both kneeless and stiff, Ben sat down in the only available chair. McNamara closed the door behind him, sealing away any sight of his friends. She took up a position behind his chair. The sound of her duty belt ruffled in his ears.
His palms were very sweaty.
“I’m just finishing an email,” the vice principal said, turning back to her computer. “I’ll be with you shortly.”
Ben nodded.
A minute trickled by. The office felt very quiet, like it was somehow detached from the rest of the school, which made the sound of the vice principal typing on her keyboard ring out all the louder. Ben took a few surreptitious glances at the rat—her pink fingers were manicured, and she had a diamond ring on her left hand, and there was also a pearl necklace sitting on top of her open suit jacket, which shined with the light of her computer screen. Her fur was neat and carefully combed. Even the pink in her ears seemed as bright as unchewed gum.
Ben averted his gaze, trying not to stare too much, which caused him to notice the name plate on her desk. It read: ROSALIN SOLCASTER, M.D.
Almost immediately, he felt a nagging feeling in the back of his mind.
Mrs. Solcaster finished her email with a decisive click, as if stamping it for approval. She clicked through a few more screens, each of them shining a different light in her eyes, and finally slid her keyboard off to the side. With a slight sigh, she leaned over her desk, gingerly clasping her fingers together.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Good morning,” he replied.
She looked at him. He looked at her. There was an easy smile between her whiskers, as if she already knew exactly what was wrong, and it was all just a silly misunderstanding.
Behind him, McNamara blew a snort.
“How are you doing today?” Mrs. Solcaster asked.
“Good,” Ben replied. “Yourself?”
“Oh, things could be better, dear, but I’m managing.” She opened her palms. “This part of my job is never very fun.”
Ben gave a polite laugh.
“Please, though,” the rat continued. “Call me Rosalin. I enjoy being on a first name basis with all my students, and I hope you won’t be an exception.” She gave him a thorough look, her gaze sweeping across his sweater and baggy jeans, the little bit of stubble he’d been growing on his cheek. “Actually, I think we’ve met before.”
“Have we?” Ben asked, trying to search his memory.
“Was it junior prom, last year?”
“I didn’t go.”
“Hm. What about the Christmas field trip, for AP History students?”
Ben had taken AP History last year, but he hadn’t gone on the field trip, because the information pamphlet had said he would be sharing a room with five other boys, all to attend seven days worth of group activities, and that had sounded completely awful. Either way, it was a good guess.
Maybe a little too good.
She’s probably pulled my file. She should know exactly who I am. The fact that Lynn and Brittney got here first means she definitely knows a lot, and the fact that McNamara is standing behind me means it’s related to Hannah’s locker.
Keep your guard.
Rosalin snapped her fingers. “Oh! The teacher’s potluck, last year!”
Ben nodded. He vaguely remembered shaking hands with a ratwoman after his dad won a prize at the raffle, which had been very obviously rigged in his favor. Mostly, he remembered the potluck because that was when things were really bad with his mom, and the faculty at Saint Carver High had used the event to shower his dad with gifts. None of it would be enough to deal with the medical debt, but it showed that people cared.
Of course, Ben had hated being there. He hated having to hear all these people say they were sorry for his loss, all while looking at him with pity and discomfort. He had begged his dad to leave. When his dad refused, he had walked home alone, crying the whole way, and the first thing his dad said upon getting back himself was that Ben was grounded for embarrassing him.
It had not been a good time.
Rosalin graced him with another smile. “I remember thinking to myself: ‘Robert has raised a fine young man. How handsome!’”
Ben gave another polite laugh.
“I hope what we did helped, in any small way.” The rat opened her hands. “I really tried to pull the staff together. Personally, I thought the ceremony was very touching.”
“It did help,” Ben said. “Thanks.”
There was a silence in the office. In the corner of his eye, he saw the shadow of a head trying to peer through the frosted glass door.
“It’s a terrible thing,” Rosalin said, still looking at him.
“Yeah.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss. And Robert’s, too, of course. He hasn’t been quite the same since it happened, and we’re all very concerned.”
Ben didn’t answer.
“How are you two doing?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
Her smile was soft, patient. “I mean, I’ve heard some rumors that you two . . . aren’t getting along, so to speak.”
“Who said that?”
She opened her hands in a placating gesture. “It’s nothing—”
“Is my dad talking about me?”
“No! No, no. It’s nothing like that.” Her smile widened slightly. “By rumors, I only meant that I can intuit these things. It’s my job to notice. I’m a mother myself, and I understand how . . . difficult teenagers can be.”
“Difficult?” Ben asked.
“Oh, you know what I mean.”
Ben started to feel uncomfortable. “I don’t think I do.”
Rosalin’s smile was warm and knowing. “I’ve had many, many students come through my door, for one reason or another. I’ve seen it all.”
“Seen what?”
“I’m just trying to say—I remember what it was like to be young and impressionable and full of emotion. I know it’s a difficult time in your life. And I know it can sometimes cause kids of your age to act out against their parents.”
Ben was silent for a moment. “Are you saying it’s my fault?”
“Oh, no! No, no, no! Of course not!” She placed a pink hand on the lapel of her jacket. “Forgive me. That was a poor choice of words.”
“Right.”
There was another silence.
“So?” Rosalin said.
“So what?”
“So how are things between you and Robert?”
Ben blinked. A moment later, he started to frown. “Why do you wanna know?”
“Oh, dearie,” Rosalin said. “I’m only concerned. Robert has been so closed off with all of us, and I just want to know he’s alright. I know such a sudden misfortune can cause a lot of grief.”
“It wasn’t sudden.”
Rosalin sat forward in her seat, her pink ears cupping the light from her computer screen. “From what I heard, the cancer was very aggressive.”
“My mom was showing signs for months,” Ben said. “She’d get dizzy, she wouldn’t eat, she had these tiny spots on her skin, like a rash, and one time she fell and cut her arm and the blood wouldn’t stop. We knew something was wrong, for a long time.”
“Did you go to a doctor?”
“My dad said we couldn’t afford it.”
“With all the signs. . . .”
“He said no.”
Rosalin nodded, her hands folded on her desk.
“At one point,” Ben said, “she got a nosebleed, and that wouldn’t stop either, and she swallowed so much blood that she started puking it out, and I came home from school and saw her and it just—” He took a breath. “We got a neighbor to take us to the ER, and they took some scans, and she had swollen lymph nodes. And it was leukemia. And by then, she only had a month left.”
Rosalin gave a soft sigh. Her green eyes were very kind.
“So, you know,” Ben finished. “It was sudden, but it wasn’t. The oncologist said she would have had a chance if they’d caught it sooner. Not much of one, but. . . .”
His voice gave way. He lowered his gaze to the potted orchids on her desk.
Some of them were dying.
He closed his eyes.
“Oh, dearie,” Rosalin said. “That is terrible to hear. I’m so sorry.” She looked at him from across the desk, whiskers bristling, clearly trying to choose her words. “I understand. Sincerely. I’ve also experienced a similar loss.”
Ben looked up at her.
She reached a hand across the desk, laying it softly on the polished wood. “I know. . . .” She paused. “I know that it may feel tempting to blame him, for not seeing it like you did. It may make him seem like he didn’t care. But I’m sure your father did what he thought was best.”
“Yeah,” Ben said. “He did do what he thought was best. He said it was nothing. He told us not to worry. He was the one with money, he was the one who worked for a living, so that made him think he knew better than either of us. And now she’s fucking dead.”
Rosalin looked at him carefully, with the same expression of a person trying to pet a growling dog. “She was his wife, too. All of us can see he’s not been taking it well.”
“Good,” Ben said.
“Good?”
“I hope he’s not taking it well. I hope it hurts, because it fucking hurt me too.”
Silence fell across the office.
“In that case,” Ben added, the words spilling out, “if he really considered her his wife, then, you know, maybe, he should’ve fucking listened to her.”
The rat opened the fingers on her palm. “Oh, sweetie, cancer is just one of those things—”
“Mrs. Solcaster?” Ben asked.
The hand began to peel away. “Oh, please. Call me Rosalin.”
“Rosalin,” Ben said. “Thank you for organizing the potluck last year. I appreciate that you wanted to reach out and help my dad.”
The rat smiled, like a mother.
“But, really, it’s none of your business.”
Rosalin blinked. She sat back in her chair, her pearl necklace clicking against the buttons of her jacket.
Outside the office, there was a chorus of laughter. Shadows danced along the frosted glass.
“Quiet out there!” McNamara yelled.
The laughter lessened, but did not stop. Someone raised a middle finger against the glass. He heard whispers and motion.
“You are in my office,” Rosalin said, her voice cold. It had turned cold very suddenly. Her face looked like she had never smiled at all. “I’ve called you in for a very serious matter, Benjamin.” She gestured to McNamara. “The police are here. They’ve opened an investigation. If you value your future in any way, you will show both me and officer McNamara some respect.”
Ben’s heart was pounding. There was a part of him that couldn’t believe what was happening, that knew he had made a mistake, that felt like he was lost in a strange dream where his actions were not his own and the consequences were worse than he could imagine. He wanted, suddenly, to apologize and admit any faults, like he always did.
At the same time, there was another part of him that had really enjoyed seeing the surprise on the vice principal’s face.
“What happened to my mom,” he said, “is none of your business.”
Rosalin met his eye. “I’ll decide what’s my business. I can tell you, right now, that’s it not your business to question me.”
“Why am I here?” Ben asked.
There was a silence. Hairs stood on the back of his neck.
“If you just wanted to ask about my dead mom,” Ben continued, “then, you know, I’d like to go back to AP Lit. We’re talking about the test, and I do have perfect attendance.”
Rosalin continued to watch him, a sour expression worming through her snout. After a moment, she glanced over his shoulder and gestured with her hand. Heavy boots thumped across the carpet. A shadow passed in front of the blinds. All at once, McNamara stood next to his chair, towering above, placing herself so close that he had to lean away from her middle-age paunch.
“Where were you Friday night?” the rhino asked.
“Why do you wanna know?”
“Answer the question.”
The rhino’s face was leathery, wrinkled, as thick and worn as a baseball glove. There was no sympathy on her face. Her expression told him, very clearly, that she had seen many kids like him before, and she did not expect him to be the last. It was the typical look of a professional cop.
At the same time, her eyes glimmered with anger.
Oh, she’s mad.
Good.
Fuck you.
“I was at the library,” Ben said. “The public library. I went there to do some homework. After that, I went home and played videogames.”
“You go alone?” McNamara asked.
“I did, yeah.”
“Anyone confirm you were there?”
“The librarian, probably.”
She chuffed. “You use the computers at all?”
“I did.”
“Good. I’ll check the public logs.”
Ben felt a sinking in his gut. He had done a lot of searches for cases of industrial sabotage. He had never even considered the possibility that his data would be saved, let alone searched. “Pretty sure you need a warrant for that, officer.”
She leaned over. “Watch it.”
“Watch what?” Ben asked.
“Watch your fucking tone, kid. I hear that shit in your voice.” She pointed a meaty finger. “Need a warrant? Get real, punk. You got no idea what you’re talking about. I know you were there.”
“I was where?” Ben asked, feeling smarmy. “At the library?”
McNamara chuffed again, her breath blowing a canyon through Ben’s messy hair. After a moment, she glanced at Rosalin, saw the rat hold up a cautionary palm, and took a small step back. “There was a break-in at the school. A couple kids snuck in, messed with someone’s locker, and tried to sabotage the gym. As far as we can tell, they used crowbars to pry open the floor.”
Ben’s reaction was carefully measured. “Okay.”
“Were you there?” McNamara asked.
“No.”
“Where were you, then?”
Ben tried to control himself. “I just told you. I was at the library. I went home. I played videogames. That’s about it.”
“Uh-huh.” The rhino sneered, cracking a line through her flabby snout. “I’ll be checking that alibi. You better hope it’s tight.”
Ben frowned up at her, but didn’t reply.
“Why do you look upset?”
“Because I didn’t do anything, and you’re treating me like I did.”
McNamara leaned on her knees, bringing her face down to eye level. “Me, personally, I think you’re just realizing that you’re in a world of shit.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Ben repeated.
“Why’d you do it, huh?”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“Yes, you did!”
“Bitch!” someone called, outside the door.
“Lynn!” Rosalin shouted. “Be quiet!”
Someone raised another middle finger, pressing it right to the glass. For a few seconds, both Rosalin and McNamara were distracted, yelling loudly at the door. Beneath the chaos, Ben experienced a moment of realization.
They don’t have any evidence.
Lynn said the cameras didn’t work. None of the janitors saw us. We had our hoods up when we smashed McNamara in the face, and all of us managed to escape without leaving evidence behind.
If I don’t say anything, they won’t have anything to go on.
They want me to confess.
Together, Rosalin and McNamara returned their attention to him, settling back into the rhythm of interrogation. The way they acted suggested they had pulled this routine before.
They think I’m weak.
They’re trying to scare me.
They think I’m just going to roll over and die.
He looked back at the two adults, knowing they were wielding their authority like a club, realizing that, in the end, they were only trying to bully him into compliance, the same way Hannah had wanted to bully him into liking her.
He felt an anger rising inside him.
“You don’t have any proof,” Ben said.
“You’re not asking the questions,” McNamara said, leaning close again. “I am. You’re not gonna play this one smart, kid. The more you talk back, the less mercy you’re gonna get.”
“I’m gonna take that as a no.”
McNamara took a step towards him, standing so close that he could smell the sweat beneath her uniform. She planted herself firmly above him.
“You don’t have any evidence, do you?” Ben said. “That’s why you’re fishing for a confession.” He flicked his head toward the door. “Did they not give you anything?”
“Are you saying they would know something?”
“I dunno. I wasn’t there.”
“Uh-huh,” McNamara said. “Sure.”
“This is very serious, Benjamin,” Rosalin said. “We are talking about multiple criminal offenses. Breaking and entering, assaulting a police officer. Those are felonies. Do you understand that?”
He did not reply.
“What’s more,” Rosalin continued, “those little bits of sabotage have already set the construction work back by several days.” She jammed a finger into her desk. “We are talking about a project worth millions of dollars, all of it sourced from public funds. This has state level consequences. It’s not a joke.”
It felt like the entire office was spinning. Every breath was a challenge. And just when it felt like it couldn’t get worse, like Ben was beginning to suffocate beneath the pressure, Rosalin’s expression changed. In the blink of an eye, she was the same kindly administrator she had been only a minute before, when she had asked how his day was going, and told him how sorry she was about his mom.
“Listen, Benjamin,” she said. “Can I call you Ben?”
Ben looked at her, feeling uneasy.
“Ben,” Rosalin said. “I know you’ve been hanging around Lynn. That’s why I called you here. I know she’s a very bad influence on anyone she comes across. She has done things like this before. She comes through this office more times than I really care to deal with. I think, personally, that she is taking advantage of a young, wounded boy who’s gone through a very serious tragedy, someone who is very desperate for a guiding hand. I also think that, if you continue to associate with her, she will drag you down to a very bad place, one that you might not ever leave again.”
Ben did not reply.
“You are a bright, young man.”
I’m a sad, whining loser.
“You have a 4.6 GPA.”
I hate my classes.
“You play in orchestra.”
I wish I could smash my violin.
“You have a bright future ahead of you.”
It’s not my future. It’s my dad’s future, and yours, and everyone else who wants to tell me what to do. It’s their idea of a happy life.
Not mine.
“You shouldn’t be friends with someone like her,” Rosalin said.
Ben kept his face carefully blank.
The rat opened her palms. For a moment, her expression was so merciful that Ben was reminded of the image of Saint Carver, patron saint of animals and all the downtrodden, plastered all over the school. “If she has coerced you in any way, if she has made you feel unsafe or threatened, and especially if she has forced you to commit a crime, then, please, let us know, right here, where it’s safe. I promise, you will not be in trouble, and I will do my best to help.”
Ben watched her. He glanced up at McNamara, who was still glaring at him with barely concealed malice. The office was very silent.
“Am I under arrest?” he asked.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
“Am I?”
“No,” Rosalin said, patiently. “You are not under arrest.”
“Good,” he replied. “In that case, I’m not going to answer any more questions. If I am under arrest, I will only speak with a lawyer present.”
Rosalin’s mask began to crack.
“You little shit,” McNamara said.
“If that’s all, ladies,” Ben said, “I’d like to go back to class.”
The vice principal stood from up her desk, planting her hands on the polished mahogany. Her expression was openly vicious. “If that’s going to be your attitude, I may as well give you detention for the rest of the week.”
“Okay.”
This only worsened her glare. “I’ll also be sure to tell your father how you acted here. I know he’ll be very disappointed.”
“At this point,” Ben said, “I really don’t give a shit.”
Rosalin soured completely. “Get out.”
Ben stood up from the chair, feeling like he barely controlled his legs.
“Hold on,” McNamara said. Even though he was now on his feet, the rhino still towered above him, just like Hannah always did. “I want you to say something.”
Ben did not answer.
“Recite a line for me.” She cleared her throat, doing a gravelly impression of Ben. “‘The chode never chokes!’”
Ben remembered shouting that line at the top of his lungs, directly after pelting McNamara with a combination of Gatorade and climbing chalk. If he said it again, she might recognize the cadence in his speech. He had seen police lineups before. He knew the play.
“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked.
“I dunno, kid,” McNamara replied. “You tell me.”
She was trying to goad him. She wanted him to slip. He knew, very obviously, that the best response would be to walk away without another word, before he managed to incriminate himself.
The fire rose again.
“Gee,” Ben said. “Hard to say, officer. You know what a chode is, right?”
McNamara nodded.
“You know what choking is, yeah?”
“Sure do, kid.”
“Well,” Ben said. “In that case, if you wanna know what it means, maybe you should suck a dick.”
McNamara looked at him, her face long and leathered, her vision split between the eruption of her horn. She filled out her uniform like a stack of cottage cheese in a plastic bag.
Slowly, she gave him a smile.
“I wish you’d chosen better,” Rosalin said, pointing toward the door.
Ben walked across the office. He had to manually control both legs. When he threw open the door, Lynn and Brittney snapped back into their seats, trying to pretend they hadn’t been listening.
He stepped out.
His stomach was doing flips again.
“Oh, shit,” Lynn said.
Brittney gave him an amused onceover, like he was now a completely different person. Lynn shot up from her seat and clapped him on the back.
Ben began to gag.
“Yo, dude!” Lynn shouted. “High five!”
Ben ignored her hand, ran a few steps ahead, and vomited into the nearest trash can, filling the plastic bag with his entire breakfast of milk and cereal. All the stress hit him at once, and he kept retching until there was only bile, and his face was red, and he could barely gasp for air.
He felt a hand on his back.
“Easy, dude. You’re good.”
He spat several times.
“Hey,” Lynn said. “Breathe.”
He took a couple breaths.
The hand patted and rubbed. It did not do much, but he felt better for having it there. When he turned to look, Lynn was on a knee next to him, giving a sympathetic wince. The look of fury was completely gone.
“So,” she said. “Cereal, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Looks like Cheetos.” She nodded. “Good taste.”
“It’s rat food.”
She snorted. Ben coughed and chuckled.
Behind them, someone cleared their throat. “Lynn.”
At his back, the rat stiffened.
“Get in my office,” Rosalin said. “Right now.”
“Eat my ass,” the younger rat replied.
“Lynn!”
Ben leaned an elbow on the trash can’s edge, glancing back across the waiting area. Rosalin was standing in the doorway to her office, looking utterly furious. Lynn was returning the glare with equal intensity. Both of them had the same green eyes.
Realization struck.
“Wait,” Ben said. “She’s your mom?”
Lynn shrugged. “She’s got a cunt big enough for all of us.”
“Lynn!” Rosalin yelled.
The younger rat patted him on the back, leaning down towards his ear. “Meet me at lunch,” she whispered. “Same spot.”
He nodded stiffly.
Lynn rose up, gave her mom an obsequious bow, and merrily strolled into her office. The door was slammed shut. Ben noticed McNamara watching him through the glass.
For a long moment, fluorescent lights hummed and burned.
“You okay?” Brittney asked.
Ben did not have the slightest idea how to answer.
“Hey.” The hyena flashed a peace sign, her grin revealing a set of sharp yellow teeth. “Peace and love, man. Don’t let this get to you. You gotta be stronger than the darkness.”
“I don’t know how you do it,” he replied.
“I embrace the darkness, personally.” The goth batted her black bang of hair across her eye, letting it dangler beside her snout. Her black leather jacket shined in the office light. “If you make it your own, it can never touch you.”
Ben gave an absent nod. Yelling began to erupt from Rosalin’s office.
“Anyway,” Brittney said, waggling her fingers. “Toodles!”
“Thick-ass bitch,” he replied.
“You know it!”
Ben rose to his feet, stumbled, leaned on the wall, awkwardly waved goodbye, and attempted to make his way out of the tiny waiting area, venturing back into the sea of office desks. He rinsed his mouth at a nearby water fountain. As he passed, he felt the stares of several admin workers. He knew, without looking, that they were all watching him like he was a criminal.
He slammed open the front office door, wiping a string of vomit from his chin.