Trouble is a Friend of Mine

By last period, our teachers had given up on getting us to concentrate. In English class, my teacher Miss Viv (who wore charms on her anklets and sexified literature to keep us interested) tried to squeeze value out of our excitement by talking about flapper sexual liberation. At one point, she jiggled and jangled, demonstrating the Charleston to the boys’ gaping appreciation. We had more of that to look forward to, because she was going to be a faculty chaperone that night.

When the final bell rang, it was chaos. Clumps of kids choked up traffic in the halls with garment bags and slumber party luggage. Teachers patrolling added to the insanity by shouting useless instructions like, ‘Let’s keep it moving, people’ and making dramatic ‘these kids are crazy’ gestures at each other. Within minutes, a swarm of school buses and SUVs vacuumed up the screaming kids and then the halls were quiet again.

I was unlocking my bike from the rack outside the faculty lounge windows when I heard Musgrave’s signature scream-and-swear combo when he spilled coffee on himself. Then he started talking to Principal Granger.

Now, instead of walking away like old me would’ve done, new me pressed up against the wall and listened. Just knowing Musgrave thought I was a criminal was enough to trigger criminal behavior in me. Whoa. Maybe I did understand what our nonexistent project, ‘Convicted in Absence,’ was about.

‘Principal Granger, did you get my request for Philip Digby’s attendance records?’ Musgrave said.

‘Look. It’s like my secretary’s been saying to you. You can’t ask for attendance sheets without cause. It’d look like we were helping you single out and harass students. If a student’s cutting school, the homeroom teacher lets my office know and we make the request to you for help,’ Principal Granger said.

‘I know that kid’s screwing around,’ Musgrave said.

‘Well, obviously, he’s attending classes. None of his teachers have raised a red flag,’ Principal Granger said.

‘He’s getting around them. I don’t know how, but he is,’ Musgrave said.

‘Keep it together, Harlan. I don’t need a repeat of the Springfield scenario on my promotion year,’ Principal Granger said.

‘That was a long time ago. I meditate now,’ Musgrave said. ‘Is his address on file?’

‘If I won’t give you his attendance sheet, what do you think the chances are I’d give you that?’ Principal Granger said.

‘Never mind … I’ll call my buddy down at the PD. That punk’s got to be in the system,’ Musgrave said. ‘I’m going to pay his parents a visit.’

‘You do that. Just don’t make any claims about representing me, any of the faculty, or this school when you do,’ Principal Granger said.

‘Yeah … wouldn’t want to infringe on the little sociopath’s human rights,’ Musgrave said. ‘God bless America.’

As soon as they left, I dialed Digby. No answer. All the way home, I called his number over and over. When I called the Make-Ur-Bear, they told me he’d taken the night off to go to the dance. After I processed the shock from finding out Digby was actually going to the dance he’d been mocking for weeks, I decided to head over to his place. Then I realized I didn’t know where he lived.

Mom was waiting at home, excited to dress me. ‘I got industrial-strength gel and a tiny little curling iron. And look! Fake eyelashes,’ she said.

I tried to look excited, but my brain was vibrating, thinking about how I could warn Digby. He wasn’t answering my texts, either.

‘Are you nervous? Oh, you’re cute … it’s normal to be nervous on your first date, honey.’

‘Not a date, Mom. Felix is technically my date, but it’s not a date date.’

‘Is there a difference?’

‘A crucial one. Seriously.’

When Mom went to shine the tap shoes again, I called Henry and told him what I’d overheard.

‘I can’t get him on the phone and I don’t know where he lives. His address isn’t listed,’ I said.

‘Yeah … during the thing with his sister, a million weirdoes showed up at their house. I know where he lives, but Mom’s driving me to Sloane’s and I don’t think she’d be into making extra stops,’ Henry said.

‘Wait. I have an idea. Will you be ready in an hour?’

‘Yeah. Why?’

‘I’ll pick you up. What’s your address?’

Then I called Felix with half a plan. ‘Felix? Can we make a stop before we go to dinner?’

‘I don’t know, Zoe, I sort of have this coordinated perfectly and messing with the itinerary might –’ Felix said.

‘Listen. Do you remember when Digby got you to buy those drugs but Floyd wouldn’t sell them to you and you had to just make it up? Do you remember how fun improvising was?’ I said.

‘Yes, but …’

‘Well, now Digby’s in trouble and we need to –’

‘Digby’s in trouble? This is for Digby?’ Felix said. ‘Why didn’t you say so? Of course we’ll help him.’

‘Really?’ That was weirdly easy.

‘Yeah, I owe our whole date to Digby. Besides, this’ll make the story we tell our kids even funnier,’ Felix said.

‘Our kids?’

‘Ha-ha. Just kidding. We shouldn’t even think of having kids until after I’ve won my first Nobel Prize,’ he said. ‘Okay, see you soon.’

Click.