Swagger (24 page)

Hartwell must have read my mind. “Don't do anything stupid, Jonas.” His voice was soft but menacing. He was blocking my way, but I pushed by him. He followed as I moved toward the front desk of the library. “I'm warning you—don't play the hero. All you'll do is blow up your future.”

“Maybe that's what I need to do,” I said, spinning around to face him. “Maybe I need to blow everything up so I can start clean.”

I turned back and took a few more steps. I was about to pass through the turnstile and head out of the library into the main hall when I felt his hand grasp my shoulder. “I'm not asking you. I'm telling you.”

His fingers were like claws digging into my skin. I put my hand over his and wrested myself free. He resisted at first, but in the end he let me go. He looked at me while I was breaking free, trying to read what I'd do. I held his eyes for a while, but then I had to look away. His will was stronger than mine, just as it had been stronger than Levi's.

I left the library and walked down the main hallway of the school. My body was trembling; my face was on fire. I'd gone about fifty feet when I saw a side hallway at the end of which was a door leading to the parking lot.

I hurried to the door, pushed it open, and stepped outside. I sucked in the fresh air, trying to get control of myself. First lunch had ended; second lunch was about to begin. Cars were pulling in and out of parking spots; kids were piling in and out. Everyone seemed to be headed somewhere. But what about me? Where was I headed?

I stood, staring at all those cars, and the answer came.

Nowhere.

I could go three million miles away, and it wouldn't matter. I had no chance in the classroom at Monitor College, no chance on Coach Richter's basketball team, no chance to be a man—not unless I stood up to Hartwell.

I
WAS STILL SHAKY WHEN I
stepped back into the school, so shaky I'd half forgotten where the main office was located. Somehow I got there; somehow I opened the door and went inside. My world was in turmoil, but everything in the office was completely ordinary. The secretary, Mrs. Wiley, looked up and smiled. “Can I help you, Jonas?”

“I need to see the principal right away,” I said.

She shook her head. “You'll have to wait. Your coach is with Mr. Diaz now.” She looked up at the clock. “Why don't you come back after school? Class will start in just a couple of minutes. You don't want to be late.”

“Hartwell is in there with Mr. Diaz?”

“Yes, Mr. Hartwell is in there. Now unless this is extremely important, I . . .”

Before she could finish, I rushed past her desk and threw open the principal's door. Hartwell turned. When he saw me, his face went gray. Mr. Diaz jumped to his feet and came around from behind his desk. “Jonas, you have no business coming in here. You need to leave immediately.”

“Hear me out,” I said, pulling the door closed behind me and holding the doorknob so that no one could go in or out. “Just hear me out.” I ignored Hartwell and instead looked straight at Mr. Diaz. “The stuff he's telling you about me cheating in chemistry—that's true. But he's not telling you what he did to Levi. Ask him about the trip he took with Levi to Mount Rainier on New Year's Eve. Ask him about the party he had on Labor Day, about the tutoring sessions he had with Levi in his apartment. Ask him about Brandon Taylor.”

When I'd first stepped through the door, Mr. Diaz's thick eyebrows had narrowed and his eyes had turned into angry dark slits. But as I spoke, the anger was replaced by confusion. He looked to Hartwell, and then he looked back to me. “Are you saying what I think you're saying?” he asked.

I motioned toward Hartwell. “He's the reason Levi is dead,” I whispered, fighting back the tears that were suddenly choking my words. “He did terrible things. You've got to stop him, or he'll do them to somebody else.”

Mr. Diaz turned to face Hartwell. For a moment Hartwell's face was frozen, but then his mouth formed a strange smile. “This is ridiculous.” He pointed at me. “I catch you cheating, and you rush in here with some crazy story. You are completely out of line.” Hartwell reached across Mr. Diaz's desk and picked up the telephone. “Mr. Diaz, with your permission, I'll call security.”

While Hartwell had been speaking, Mr. Diaz had kept his eyes fixed on me. I could feel my shoulders shaking, but I fought to keep control. I was not going to break down in front of Hartwell.

“Put the phone down, Mr. Hartwell,” Diaz said.

“Excuse me?” Hartwell said.

“I said to put the phone down. Then please step outside and wait in the staff room for me.”

“You want me to step outside?”

“I want you to step outside.”

“What about Jonas?”

“Jonas is staying here with me.”

Hartwell's odd smile disappeared. “You're not taking him seriously? You can't be. The kid is both a cheater and a liar. How can you possibly—”

“Mr. Hartwell, I want you to leave my office now. We'll talk later.”

Hartwell stood still for a long moment and then threw his hands up. “All right. All right. I'm gone.” I moved aside so he could get to the door. He turned the doorknob, looked back, and pointed a finger at me. “Making up stuff isn't going to work. The truth will come out. The more lies you tell, the worse it will be for you.”

I
TOLD MR. DIAZ EVERYTHING
, beginning with meeting Hartwell at Green Lake and ending with Brandon in the library. The beer, the R-rated movies, Butler's chemistry files, the New Year's Eve camping trip, Levi's tutoring sessions at Hartwell's apartment—I talked for thirty minutes straight. The hardest part was describing that night at the Good Shepherd Center. But I went through that for Mr. Diaz, too, going slowly and repeating Levi's words as best as I could remember them. While I talked, Mr. Diaz took notes, his body perfectly still, his pen moving smoothly over a yellow notepad.

When I finished, he leaned forward in his chair. “You know it's a crime to make a false accusation, don't you?”

“I know.”

“And you know this won't change your chemistry grade.”

“I know. I'll get an F. I'll lose the scholarship.”

“But you stand by everything you've said.”

“Everything.”

“Okay, then.”

He turned away from me, picked up his telephone, and dialed. I could faintly hear the phone ring once. A tinny voice came through the receiver. “Seattle Police Department. How can I help you?”

 

Twenty minutes later I was in a small conference room outside the principal's office telling my story to Detective McDowell from the police department. McDowell, a rumpled red-haired man with a belly that hung over his belt, took notes in a small flip notebook like the ones cops always have in movies.

While I'd been talking with Mr. Diaz, I could see the shock of my words reflected in his eyes. But McDowell's watery blue eyes didn't register at all; you'd have thought I was reading the school lunch menu. His face stayed blank even when I repeated Levi's confession to me at the Good Shepherd Center.

“So that brings us to today. Correct?” McDowell said, when I'd finished telling him about Hartwell meeting Brandon in the library.

“Right. That was just an hour ago.”

McDowell raised his arms above his head, stretched a little, stuck out his lower lip, and slowly flipped back through his notes, mumbling to himself as he read. Finally he stood up. “I'll be back in a little while. You sit tight, okay?”

Before I fully understood what was happening, he'd left, closing the door behind him. I felt deserted. Fortunately, the room had a small window that looked out to the office area. Through it, I saw McDowell talk briefly to Mr. Diaz. Then both of them moved to a part of the office I couldn't see. A few minutes after that, I saw DeShawn enter the office, and then Nick and Brandon. I expected to see Cash come through the main door as well, but if he did, I missed him.

There was another meeting room next to where I was waiting. I heard the door open and close, and then I heard voices. I tried to make out what they were saying, but the words were muffled. I knew what was happening, though. Detective McDowell was questioning them about Hartwell, about me, and about Levi. What could they say? They didn't know anything. To them, Hartwell was a hero. Levi had told me, but he hadn't told anyone else.

Ten minutes passed . . . twenty minutes . . . thirty. The door in the adjacent room opened and closed. There was nothing but silence for a few minutes, and then there was a new voice. An adult voice. Had McDowell moved on to Hartwell? I couldn't be sure, but I thought so. The muffled voices talked on and on.

A full hour passed before the room next door at last went silent. My head ached, and I felt sick to my stomach. I had to wait five more minutes before the door to the room where I'd been confined opened. Detective McDowell came in, pulled out a chair, sat down across from me, took out that flip notebook of his, and silently read through the pages. Then he closed the notebook and leaned back in the chair and spoke. “Cash isn't at school today, but I talked to Nick and DeShawn. And I talked to Brandon too. They say Hartwell is a great guy and a great coach. They say there was no party, no beer, no porno movies. Not on Labor Day or on any other day.”

“Brandon didn't play at Green Lake in the summer,” I said, frustrated. “He wasn't at the party. And the other guys are covering for Hartwell. I told you that he made us promise not to tell. It's got to be in your notes. And they weren't porno movies; they were R-rated. I told you that, too.”

Instead of answering, McDowell tapped his fingers together, sizing me up as he did. Finally he spoke. “I talked to Coach Hartwell. He also insists there was no party, no beer, no movies, nothing improper on Mount Rainier or during any of his tutoring sessions. He says you're trying to get back at him because he caught you cheating.”

“He helped me cheat,” I said, trying not to get angry. “I explained that before. All of this has got to be in your notes. He led me to the teachers' workroom in the back of the library. How would I have even known about that computer without his help?”

Detective McDowell leaned toward me. “If you need to change your story, now is the time to do it. You take this too far, and you could find yourself in serious trouble.”

“Every word I told you was the truth.”

He rubbed his chin for a while, then stood, walked over to the door, and opened it. “You can leave now, Jonas. But I'll be talking to you again.”

It was half a threat, half a promise.

I
KNEW THAT SOONER OR LATER
I'd have to tell my parents everything—but that night I didn't have the energy. My dad was at work, so it was just my mom and me at dinner. Even though I tried to be upbeat, she sensed something was wrong. Twice she asked if I felt all right, and twice I lied. I was glad to be able to escape to my room.

I opened my laptop, and for a few hours was clicking from one sports website to another. I even read articles on golf. When it was late enough, I flicked off the light and climbed into bed. I couldn't sleep, so I lay on my back and looked at the ceiling.

Cash was my last chance. I tried to convince myself that he'd back me up, but inside I didn't believe it. We'd meshed well on the court, but off the court we'd never even eaten lunch together. He was one of Hartwell's guys. They were all Hartwell's guys. Hartwell had taken us to the top of the mountain. They weren't going to throw him over a cliff, not for me.

I turned my light back on. On the table next to my bed was the color brochure from Monitor College. I picked it up and flipped through it. The ivy-covered brick buildings, the snowy winters, the basketball court, the classes—gone. All of it gone.

I flicked the light off and managed to sleep some, but when I awoke the next morning, my mouth was dry, my throat was sore, and my eyelids felt as if there were sandpaper underneath them. I took a shower, ate a piece of toast, and headed out the door. “Have a good day,” my mom said as I left.

If ever I wanted a gray Seattle day, it was that morning. But instead of being cloudy, the sky overhead was an incredible baby blue. Big white clouds sat like cotton balls high in the sky, and a bright morning sun warmed my face. The universe seemed to be mocking me.

I looked over at Levi's house as I walked past, and I remembered all those summer afternoons when I'd been so eager to get moving, off to play basketball. I thought about Levi's sisters never again having Levi around to pick them up, twirl them about, and tell them they were princesses.

 

When I stepped inside Harding High that morning, I felt strangely out of place. I kept expecting to see Detective McDowell looking for me in the hallway or to hear my name called over the intercom system, but nothing happened.

I made it through English and algebra, though I'm not sure how. After those classes, it was time for chemistry with Butler. I didn't know what I should do. Had he been told about me? It had seemed like a year, but it had been only one day. Who would have told him?

I milled around outside his door until just before the bell rang. Then, because Celia was the last friend I had, I slipped inside Butler's classroom. It was a huge mistake. When he spotted me, Butler pointed his pudgy finger at me. “You. You have the nerve to come in here? Step out into the hall and wait for me there.”

I felt dizzy, but I did what he said. As I stood outside his door, he growled something to the class, and then he was in my face. “Needless to say, you have an F for last semester and for this one too. Also, you are not in my class anymore. Is what I'm saying clear?”

I nodded. “It's clear. I just wanted to say that—”

“I don't want to hear anything that you have to say. Save your phony apologies for somebody else.” He strode back into the classroom, pulling the door closed with a bang and leaving me alone in the empty hallway.