The Accused (Theodore Boone 3)

“Would you please step outside and send in Woody,” she said.

When Baxter stepped through the door and saw the other three, he ran his index finger across his lips. Nobody rats.

While Woody was getting grilled by Mrs. Gladwell, Theo and Griff and Baxter sat on a wooden bench under the watch of Mr. Mount, who felt sorry for the boys. They were all good kids and nothing would be gained by suspensions. Still, rules were rules.

Of the four, Woody would be the last to crack under pressure, and he refused to answer any question from Mrs. Gladwell. When she asked him if he hit Baxter, he responded, “Name, rank, and serial number only.”

“Very funny, Woody. You think this is a game?”

“No.”

“Did you throw the first punch?”

“I refuse to incriminate myself,” he replied.

“Get out of here.”

The weakest link was Griff, and when he survived his little question-and-answer period with Mrs. Gladwell by refusing to rat, she reassembled the four boys in the room. She said, “Very well. I’m going to suspend each of you one day for fighting, and another day for your refusal to cooperate. Today is Thursday and the suspension will run today and tomorrow. You will return to classes on Monday, at which time you will begin a thirty-day probation. Any violation during the next thirty days, and you will be suspended for a week.”

The prospect of missing classes for two days did not really trouble Theo, but the reality of facing his parents was painful. He thought about calling Ike first because Ike would understand and probably praise Theo for taking a stand. Perhaps Ike could then break the news to Theo’s parents and soften the impact. Theo was contemplating this when Mrs. Gladwell said, “I’ll call your parents.”

It took an hour to work out the details of the suspensions and do the paperwork. The boys stayed in the room, at the table, facing each other while Mr. Mount sat, bored, at the end of the table. He stepped out once to get coffee, and while he was gone Baxter said, “Sorry, Theo.”

“No problem,” Theo said.

Woody did not apologize.

Woody’s parents and Baxter’s parents had jobs; thus, no one was home during the day. Mrs. Gladwell explained they would be receiving “in-school suspensions” and would be required to sit in separate study rooms at school from 8:40 a.m. until classes ended at 3:30. They would be alone with nothing to do but extra homework. No cell phones, laptops, nothing but textbooks. They would eat lunch at their desks, alone. This seemed far worse than the old-fashioned suspensions where they kicked you off campus. Griff’s mother was a housewife so he could stay at home, and probably sleep late, watch television, play with the dog, and do whatever he wanted, unless, of course, his parents were ticked off enough to impose penalties. Theo, too, had a place to go—the offices of Boone & Boone.

His mother was in court. His father picked him up from school. As they were driving away, Theo said, “What about my bike?”

“We’ll get it later,” his father replied. So far, he had been remarkably cool and undisturbed, at least on the surface.

A block or two later, his father said, “What happened?”

“It’s just between me and you, right?”

“What happened, Theo!” his father snapped.

“You’re not telling Mrs. Gladwell, are you? I can’t rat on the other guys.”

“No. Just tell me what happened.”

Theo told him everything. The details poured forth in a rush, and Theo, who had been unable to tell his side of the story, unloaded. When he finished they were sitting in the small parking lot behind the office. “Are you upset with me, Dad?” Theo asked.

“You know the rules, and you broke the rules,” Mr. Boone said sternly.

“I did, but at the time, I had no choice.”

Mr. Boone turned off the ignition and said, “That’s the way I see it, too.”

Chapter 13

Theo sat in his dark office, lights off, shades pulled, just him and Judge brooding in the shadows and thinking about what could possibly happen next. In a couple of hours, his mother would return from court. She and his father would huddle behind a locked door and have one of those deadly serious conversations that only troubled parents can have. Then he would be hauled in like a felon to face the music. He would be lectured. His mother would cry. Suspended from school! How could he do such a thing? And on and on. He was already tired of thinking about it.

His father’s initial response was somewhat comforting. There had been no drama, though his father generally was not one for theatrics. No yelling, but then Woods Boone was too laid back to yell. No threats or additional punishment, though Theo knew his parents always chatted first before throwing the book at him.

Until a few hours earlier, Theo had never dreamed he would get suspended from school. He had never thought about it, and as h

e pondered the incident he asked himself if it was worth it. He didn’t believe in breaking rules. He didn’t enjoy disappointing Mrs. Gladwell and Mr. Mount. He suspected his parents would view it as an embarrassment, and this troubled him. And, to be honest, there had been no pleasure in the violence, the frantic melee in which all four warriors seemed to be kicking, punching, scratching, and cursing each other while some students in the crowd gawked in awe and others egged them on.

On the other hand, there was some pride in the fact that he had gone to the aid of a friend who was being double-teamed. He had seen the admiration in the eyes of the spectators, his classmates and friends. He, Theo Boone, was being falsely accused, and had gone on the attack to defend his good name and also to protect a friend.

What a friend! Theo could not help but smile as he replayed the encounter. He marveled at the speed and fearlessness with which Woody had stepped forward and shut up big-mouth Baxter. And, Theo had a hunch Woody was not finished. Most likely, he would wait until he caught Baxter off-campus and close his other eye. Theo hoped his fighting days were over, but if another bout popped up he wanted Woody nearby.

There was a soft knock on the door. “Come in,” Theo said.

It was Elsa, red-eyed and with tears on her cheeks. She flipped the light switch and reached down to hug him. “Theo, I’m so sorry,” she said.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said. This was the last thing he wanted—big-time drama from those who loved him. He endured the hug. “I’m fine. It’s nothing, okay?” he said, getting irritated. She stood and wiped her cheeks with a tissue. “I can’t believe it. You’re the nicest kid in the world.”

“Probably not. Maybe top five. Look, Elsa, I’m okay.”

“Who attacked you?”

“No one. It was just a stupid fight, okay? No big deal.”

She patted her cheeks with the tissue and began to realize that her sympathies were not being appreciated. “I still love you, Theo,” she said, as if he had killed someone.

“I’m fine, Elsa, just fine.” Now would you please get out of here?

She left and Theo turned off the light. He and Judge returned to their brooding, which was actually quite enjoyable. Five minutes passed and there was another knock at the door. “Yes,” he said. The door opened slowly and Dorothy, his father’s real estate secretary, took a step inside. She flipped on the light and said, “Theo, are you okay?”

“Yes,” he said, shortly, and for a long second he was afraid she might lunge at him with an awkward hug, as if he needed her physical support.

“I can’t believe it. Why would the school suspend you?”

“Because I got in a fight, plain and simple. Fighting is against the rules.”

“Yes, but, Theo, surely it wasn’t your fault.”

Theo shook his head and looked out the window. How many times would he be forced to explain what happened? “Doesn’t matter who’s at fault. A fight is a fight.”

After an awkward pause, she said, “Well, if you need a friend, I’m just down the hall.”

“Thanks.” Oh sure. I’m going to unload my troubles to a fully grown adult who’s old enough to be my mother.

She left and Theo turned off the light. His cell phone beeped with a text from April Finnemore.

Just heard. U ok?

Yep. At office. No classes. Luv it.

Your parents?

Mom n court. Dad’s not 2 sore.

Who’d u punch?

Not sure. Lot of contact.

Wounds? Blood?

Theo suddenly wished he had more to show for his efforts. Typically, he decided to exaggerate a little. He wrote:

Busted lip. Blood.

Awesome! When can I see?

Later. U need to study now.

He again returned to his brooding. Five minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Before Theo could respond, Vince stepped in and turned on the light. With his arrival, the entire firm of Boone & Boone had now come to pay its respects. Except, of course, Marcella Boone, who would arrive soon enough.

Vince had been her paralegal for many years. He did the grunt work for Mrs. Boone’s divorce cases, and it was not always pleasant. He spent a lot of time out of the office, investigating clients, and spying on their husbands, and checking facts. Theo had known for many years that divorce clients often do not tell the truth to their lawyers, and Vince was called upon to verify their stories. He was about thirty-five, single, a nice guy with a tough job.