I didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure myself.
4
Cooper
Fifteen minutes later, Mrs. Tsuru called Madeline and me into her office. She sat at her desk, hands folded, a judge about to deliver a verdict.
Four chairs were positioned in front of the desk and our parents perched in the middle two. Was it normal for them to be sitting together like that?
Madeline’s dad looked like a politician: tall, lean, with brown hair that was graying at the temples, the sort of guy who pretended to care about you to get your vote. And he was sitting next to my mom.
After we joined our parents, Mrs. Tsuru told Madeline she had to return my clothes and any other possessions of mine that she had. Since the car needed to be driven across the grass to reach the parking lot, I would have to pay for repairing any damage to the grass.
Bag of grass seed. I could handle that.
Then Mrs. Tsuru lectured us about the evils of our shenanigans—her word—and how the school couldn’t allow them to continue. If the woman had ever had a sense of humor, she’d ditched it before she took this job. She went on about how the school could come down hard on us—suspend or even expel us—but I knew she wouldn’t go that far. Mrs. Tsuru couldn’texpel me without expelling Madeline, and no way was the principal getting rid of Mr. Moneybags’s kid.
Besides, my mother would be acting a lot more upset if she thought the principal was about to kick me off the football team. Mom sat there calmly enough, no sign of the earlier enraged woman who’d ripped into me in the waiting room.
“Fortunately for you,” Mrs. Tsuru went on, “I’ve decided to go easy on you.”
Yep. Mr. Moneybags had just made another donation.
Mrs. Tsuru steepled her fingers. “You may have noticed that the tiger tracks on the walkway by the parking lot have faded. As a punishment, the two of you will stay after school today and repaint them.”
I shifted in my chair. “Can we do that on Saturday instead? I’ve got football practice after school.”
“And I’ve got drama rehearsal,” Madeline put in.
Mrs. Tsuru smiled in satisfaction. “No, you can’t. You’re going to miss your after-school activities today. You’ll use that time to beautify the school and sort out your differences like rational human beings.” She gazed at us over the rims of her glasses. “I actually expect you to talk things out. If there are any more pranks”—her gaze turned to me ominously—“you’ll no longer be the school’s starting quarterback.”
Harsh. And effective. I couldn’t help but gulp.
The principal’s eyes went to Madeline. “And you won’t be—” She paused. “What’s the next drama production?”
“Hello, Dolly!,” Madeline answered.
“You won’t be Dolly-ing around the stage anymore. Is that clear?”
Madeline nodded meekly. “Yes.”
Mrs. Tsuru lifted her eyebrows at me, waiting for my response.
“Yes,” I said.
“Good. I’m glad we’ve reached this understanding.” Mrs. Tsuru stood up, signaling the end of the meeting.
Mr. Seibold stood next. “Thank you for your leniency. I think Madeline and Cooper would both like to apologize to you now.”
Seriously, the dude thought he could just tell me what to say and when to say it? While Madeline put on an Oscar-worthy performance of solemn “I’m sorrys,” I wished I could ditch this place without saying anything.
Madeline ended, and my mom gave me a firm look. “Cooper,” she prodded.
“Sorry.” I knew I had to come up with more than one word. “I shouldn’t have moved Madeline’s car, or plastic-wrapped it, or hemmed up her Maria costume so it looked like she was wearing a nun miniskirt.”
Madeline’s eyes went wide. “Youdid that? I thought the costume people messed up.”
I dipped my chin. “I didn’t interrupt you during your apology.”
