That’s when the booing erupted. I was so startled by it, still thinking back to that day with Mom in the cemetery, I nearly jumped out of my seat. I had no idea what was going on, really. How had we gone from bonfires to the police — and, for some reason, my New Pathways counselors — being out in force to curb such activity?
But I had never seen such hostility from a crowd. Nothing like this had ever happened at my old school…unless you count the scandal that erupted the time I tried to prove my ex–best friend killed herself over an affair with her basketball coach.
“We just don’t want to see people get hurt!” Principal Alvarez was shouting into the microphone. “You should know that all of this is for your protection! Delinquent behavior, vandalism, and arson will not be tolerated this year and will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. And anyone caught will be held accountable both criminally and by the school system. The charges will range from criminal mischief to battery, not to mention expulsion —”
The boos turned to jeers. People also began to hurl insults, and not just about Principal Alvarez’s mother. Slurs about his wife began to fly — though not all in English, so I couldn’t quite catch the details.
Alex and Kayla, on the other hand, just looked bored. Well, okay: Kayla looked bored. She was checking her Facebook page again.
Alex looked disgusted.
But then, Alex looked disgusted a lot of the time. Who could blame him? Life hadn’t dealt my cousin Alex the fairest of hands. Not only did he have to live with Grandma, but his dad had been in jail for most of his life, and Alex would not even speak about his mom’s occasional visits from the mainland, except to say there’d be no more of them now that his father was home because Uncle Chris would not tolerate her (she worked somewhere you can look up online, but only if you are over eighteen).
Check yourself before you wreck yourself.
“Furthermore,” Principal Alvarez went on, raising his voice as if by increasing the volume, people were going to become more receptive. I could see that his forehead was becoming shiny. It was getting a bit hot in the auditorium. Not just temperature-wise.
“You should know we have contacted all the local hardware stores, asking them not to sell large quantities of wood to juveniles or their parents for the next week.”
Bedlam. I’d never heard such an explosion. People were standing in their seats. You would have thought he’d taken away their off-campus lunch privileges or something.
The cops who’d been leaning against the walls took steps forward, looking alert. The people who’d stood in their seats sat back down. But they still looked upset.
“What,” I turned to ask Alex, uncomprehending, “is going on? What are they so mad about? Just because they can’t make some stupid bonfire?”
“No,” Alex said, shaking his head. His smile was bitter. “It’s not about bonfires at all. That’s not what they’re making out of the wood.”
I shook my head. “What? I don’t get it.”
“Don’t worry. Neither does he,” Alex said, tipping his head in the principal’s direction. “It’s like New Pathways. They’re always doing crap like this. But it never changes anything. Most of the time, it just makes everything worse. Like sticking us all in D-Wing.”
“Wait,” I said, completely confused now. “What does D-Wing have to do with it?”
Alex looked past me. “She wants to know what D-Wing has to do with it,” he said to Kayla with a smirk.
“Ai,” Kayla said. She clucked and shook her head. “Chickie.”
“What?” I asked, thoroughly confused. “What is it? It’s just a building.”
“She’s so cute,” Kayla said to him. “Where did you get her?”
“Mainland,” Alex said, in a “Don’t you feel sorry for her?” voice.
Principal Alvarez held up both his hands. “People! People, listen.…Here…here’s Chief of Police Santos to explain! Chief…they’re all yours.”
And with that, the principal ran off the stage, obviously eager to let someone else take the blame.
The chief of police, however, took his time getting up to the podium. He, unlike the principal, did not have note cards.
He did, however, have his right hand resting on the butt of the pistol he wore at his hip. Whether or not he did this intentionally, I noticed the booing died down immediately.
And no one yelled a word about his wife. In fact, a respectful — or maybe frightened — hush seemed to fall over the auditorium once again.
Chief Santos did look a little scary. A big man, he had a gray mustache, thick gray eyebrows to match, and a very deep, slightly sonorous voice. He took his time not only in getting up to the mike but in choosing his words.
“Thank you, Principal Alvarez,” the police chief said, not even bothering to glance at the smaller man. His hawklike gaze was on all of us instead. In fact, it seemed to be targeted directly on me.
I felt myself sinking a little lower in my seat. I wanted a soda more than ever.
“Let’s not play games,” the police chief said, sucking a little on his teeth. “You’re not children. And you all know why I’m here.” You could have heard a dolphin break the water’s surface outside.
I hadn’t done anything wrong — not at Isla Huesos High School, anyway. But I felt as if I had.
Wait…was that it? Had he read my file? Did he know what I’d done back at my old school?