14
Trouble at Woodrow Wilcox
Bugs makes nice. Uncle/teacher conference. Randolph makes a scene. Mayor Lane visits area schools.
Bronson was back in school for the first time in almost a week. It wasn’t the classes that brought him back. It wasn’t Cindy, who was sitting across from him at the lunch table scribbling in a notebook. It was the free food. The glorious microwaved pizza free food that he was shoving down his gullet.
Cindy sighed as she put down her pen. “Seems like the police should be able to find some stupid kid in a Halloween costume,” she said. She looked around the lunchroom to make sure nobody was listening in. “Unless he has powers,” she whispered across the table.
Bronson choked on his pizza and spit it into a napkin. “Yeah, right,” he said. “What is this? A comic book?”
“No, for serious,” Cindy said, “These kids from the West Side—”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be digging,” Bronson said. “He might wear that mask for a reason, you know.”
“Like what?” Cindy asked.
“Maybe to protect the people he cares about? Or maybe just to cover his own butt.”
“Hmm,” Cindy said, “is that why you would do it? Wear a mask?”
“I wouldn’t do what that kid’s doing with or without a mask,” Bronson said. “What kind of normal kid goes out at night to fight adults?”
“I don’t think I’d wear a mask,” Cindy said, “but I’d still try to keep it a secret, especially if I had secret powers. I’d pretend like I didn’t have them and then when I needed them—BOOM- powers. But I’d never let anybody see me. I’d be a secret guardian angel kind of hero I think.”
“You’ve put a lot of thought to it,” Bronson said.
“Well, in a world where kids are running around fighting crime dressed like dogs I figure it pays to consider all the options.”
Bugs walked up to the table on a pair of crutches. He also had a bandage across his nose. He nodded at Bronson then looked away. Under his breath he mumbled “I’m sorry about the other day.”
“What?” Cindy said. “I don’t believe it. Bugs? Apologizing?”
Bugs turned to Cindy. “I’m sorry for messing with you and the new kid, okay? I was a jerk.”
Bronson couldn’t take it anymore. He was just supposed to forgive him? After all the grief Bugs had given him since he arrived in Colta City he was just supposed to give up? Fat chance.
“Get away from us,” Bronson said. He seized one of Bugs’s crutches then shook it. “Or else.”
Bugs put up his hands. “Okay, okay, sorry to bug you.” He yanked his crutch away from Bronson and walked back over to his friends on the other side of the lunchroom. Bronson thought it was pretty funny.
Cindy kicked him in the shin under the table. It hurt.
“What was that for?” Bronson asked.
“He apologized, you jerk,” Cindy replied.
“I thought you’d be impressed,” Bronson said. “Geez. Free pizza isn’t worth this hassle. See ya.”
Bronson picked up his tray and turned around—then proceeded to spill his tray all over the front of Principal Kane.
“Bronson,” Principal Kane said, unflinching with unfinished food dripping down his suit. “I need to see you in my office. Now.”
Bronson slumped in the wicker chair that sat opposite Principal Kane. The principal was staring across his desk at Bronson, who did his best to not make eye contact.
“What’s this about?” Bronson asked.
“Your teachers tell me you haven’t been turning in your assignments,” Principal Kane said, “and you haven’t been in homeroom in over a week. Anything to say for yourself?”
“Excuse me,” Bronson replied.
“And then I come up to you in the lunchroom and you’re saying the school doesn’t matter to you anymore. What’s going on, Bronson?”
Bronson leaned back in the chair and folded his arms.
“Who needs school?” he said.
Principal Kane shook his head and hit a button on his phone.
“Send him in, Michelle,” he said. “Bronson, I’ve asked your guardian to come in for a little conference.”
The door swung open and Randolph walked in. Bronson dropped the cool guy act and turned to the principal. “No, not him. He threw—”
Randolph dashed over to Bronson and covered his mouth. “I threw a fit when I heard about this, Principal Kane, sir. I assure you we will make sure he studies. And attends school. Bronson was wrong, your highness. All is fixed. I’ll handle it… God as my witness. You’ll be good from now on, won’t you, Bronson?”
Randolph lowered his hand to Bronson’s shoulder and squeezed just hard enough to get his point across.
“Sure, yeah. I’ll be good,” Bronson said.
Principal Kane sat back in his chair. “Thank you, Mr. Black. If more parents were as direct and involved in their children’s lives as you I’d be out of a job.”
“If only,” Randolph said with a sneer. He pulled Bronson up by his arm. “Come, Bronson.”
“Well, Mr. Black, Bronson does have classes to attend,” Principal Kane said.
“Oh, I just need to talk to him a moment. Then right back to class,” Randolph said.
With that Randolph pulled Bronson out the door. Bronson was prepared for the worst. He wasn’t going to let this guy push him around anymore.
Randolph pushed Bronson out the front doors of Woodrow Wilcox Junior High. Bronson recovered and spun around to face his uncle.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“When a truant officer comes to my door in the middle of the day I tend to take an interest in the goings-on surrounding it,” Randolph said. He pushed Bronson up against a tree. “You will go to school. If I open my door to a cop again—well, you know how often little runaways pop up in the harbor.”
Bronson spit in Randolph’s face.
“You bold little—” Randolph smacked him. Bronson pulled back and swept Randolph’s leg out from under him with a quick kick.
“I wouldn’t expect any less from Duncan’s son,” Randolph said. “You’ve got a bit of your dad in you, but I’d be careful. If we weren’t family—”
“I have a new family now,” Bronson said. “They won’t let you hurt me.”
Randolph smiled at Bronson and let him go.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, “might not like them once you get to know them.”
A town car tailed by two policemen on motorcycles pulled up in front of the school. Randolph jumped up and hugged Bronson tight.
“Don’t miss school again,” Randolph said into Bronson’s ear, “but if you do you might as well just head straight back to that hovel you came from.” Randolph patted Bronson on the head then walked down the street.
A man in a dark suit and sunglasses got out of the passenger’s side door of the car. He looked at his clipboard, then at the school, then back at the clipboard, then back at the school.
“This is where she goes, sir,” the man said back into the car.
The back door opened and Mayor Lane stepped out. Bronson waved.
“Hello there, young man,” Mayor Lane said. “We’re here to have a word with your principal. Could you point us in the right direction?”
Bronson pointed at the doors to the school.
“Through those doors, left, right, right, left. Can’t miss it,” Bronson said.
“It’s right in here, sir,” Principal Kane said as he led Mayor Lane and his assistant Chester into the AV room. Cindy sat at an ancient teleprompter typing in scripts for that afternoon’s show.
“Ms. McNeil,” Principal Kane said, “I’d like you to meet Mayor Lane. He’s here to tour the school and wanted to see the newsroom. Think you could show him around and bring him back to my office when you’re done?”
Cindy sat there staring at the men with her mouth hanging open.
“Ms. McNeil,” Principal Kane said, “if you ever expect to make your career in journalism you can’t be starstruck. Get over here and shake the mayor’s hand.”
Cindy put her stack of scripts down and walked over to the mayor. Mayor Lane smiled down at her and extended his hand.
“You seem very familiar, young lady,” Mayor Lane said. Cindy couldn’t tell if he messing with her or not. She took his hand and shook it.
“Cindy McNeil,” she said, “pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“Well, looks like you’re in good hands,” Principal Kane said, “I’ll leave you to it.”
Cindy wasn’t sure what to do, so she took a deep breath and went into her rehearsed speech. “WWJH was founded in 1978 a scant four years after we opened our doors. Our state-of-the-art technology allows students to—”
“Ms. McNeil,” Mayor Lane said, “you know I’m not here for a tour.”
Cindy ran toward the door to the studio. Chester grabbed her then put her down in the chair behind the anchor’s desk.
“Don’t worry, Ms. McNeil,” Mayor Lane said. “Give us five minutes, and as long as things go well we’ll walk out that door and you’ll never have to talk to us again. Okay?”
Cindy didn’t really think she had a choice in the matter so she nodded her head in agreement.
“Good,” Mayor Lane said. He leaned over the anchor’s desk and stared Cindy down. “When you visited City Hall you may have seen some things… experienced some things… altered some things… That’s fine. You made it out fair and square and I’m certainly not in the business of abducting children myself in broad daylight. I am, however, in the business of providing for my dear Colta City. And protecting her from those who would try to tear her down. Protecting her from people like you, Ms McNeil.”
Mayor Lane reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a pine green matchbook then tossed it on the desk in front of Cindy. Large gold letters spelled Erin’s Pub on the cover in a curly decorative typeface.
“I take it you know this place?” Mayor Lane asked.
“That’s where my mom works, you jerk,” Cindy said.
Mayor Lane smiled at Cindy. “Oh, is it? That’s nice. It’s a great little place too. To think… I was only a councilman when my company bought that property all those years ago. Sadly it hasn’t been very profitable lately. Isn’t that right, Chester?”
“Right, sir,” Chester said.
“You remember Chester, don’t you, Cindy?” Mayor Lane asked. “You were so rude though. You didn’t even say goodbye to him when you left. Not like you did to me anyway.”
“What do you want, jerkwad?” Cindy asked.
Mayor Lane smiled as he put the matchbook back in his pocket.
“I don’t want anything from you, Cindy. I want nothing from you. Go back to your life here. Make your news show, take your tests, forget about your visit to City Hall. Do that and I’ll see to it that Erin’s Pub stays open in perpetuity for as long as your mother works there.”
Cindy held out her hand. “Deal,” she said.
Mayor Lane shook his head. “Ah, ah. No need for that again. We’ll just call it a deal and leave it at that, okay?”
“Sure,” Cindy said. She was lying of course. Before this moment she’d planned to walk away from everything that happened. Now, though, she wasn’t going to rest until Mayor Lane was Inmate Lane… and she knew just the kid to call to make that happen.
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