his glasses from his pointy nose; his bulging eyes reminded her of a mouse. The kids caled him Rat.
“It appears we have a problem.” He leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes, delaying the news.
Libby gripped her hands. Her mouth went dry as words eluded her.
“Last Friday you sold bus tickets for the away footbal game.
Is that correct?” His eyes pierced hers.
Oh shit. He knew.
The heat of guilt climbed her neck. “Yes sir.” She swalowed.
“One of the women working in the lunch line saw you take money from the cash box and pocket it. Is that correct?” He spoke slow and quiet.
More than anything she wanted to lie. The only time in her life she’d ever taken anything and now she was caught. Panic hit. Deny it, lie. Don’t admit it. She could taste the words on the tip of her tongue. She wasn’t a bad person, she just needed the money.
“Before you answer, I want you to know that the same cash box came up short seventeen dolars.” He tapped his finger against his temple, he had her cornered.
“Yes, sir.” She crossed her arms, hugging herself tight.
“What was that?” Principal Rat asked.
“Yes, sir. I took the money.” Libby’s head hung low. She never meant anyone to find out. No wonder she always folowed the rules. Breaking them and getting caught sucked.
“Would you like to explain yourself?” He crossed his arms, his voice tight.
“No, sir,” she mumbled.
“Excuse me?” Apparently he wasn’t used to hearing no.
“No, sir, I wouldn’t like to explain.” If she confessed about her CD, he’d ridicule her and probably take it away.
“I see.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Wel, young lady, we have zero tolerance for stealing in this school. Let me spel this out so you understand the ful consequence of your actions. You wil serve an in-school detention, you wil return the money and your guardian wil be notified.”
“Please don’t cal her,” Libby interrupted in a ful panic.
Caling Aunt Marge was the worst thing he could do. “I’m realy sorry, I didn’t plan to do it. I’l do whatever detention you want, but please don’t cal her.”
“We have strict policies in this school and perhaps this wil help deter you from stealing again, and I’ve already caled her. You can expect to be disciplined at home as wel.” Why did life always have to be so complicated? Could nothing ever go her way? How could she go home and face her aunt? Her bely began to hurt.
“Miss Orman wil oversee your detention and you can return the money to Mrs. Keler at the front desk.”
“I don’t have it any more. I spent it.”
He leaned back in his chair again, glanced at her file and sighed a deep breath, clearly annoyed. “I assume that would explain your unexcused absence Friday afternoon.”
She nodded.
“Wel, we’l be sure to find a way for you to work the money off. Let this be a strong message to you not to repeat your crime. If this should happen again, you wil be looking at a suspension. You may go.”
Chapter 8
Entering the gloomy farmhouse felt like walking into a prison.
Libby always worked hard to avoid confrontations with Aunt Marge. The woman had a warped sense of right and wrong. Libby couldn’t figure out where her thinking came from. Thank God for Peter and her new phone. She texted him throughout the day and on the bus ride home; it made this crummy day tolerable. His humor gave her the courage to face Aunt Marge.
Libby peeked into the filthy living room, empty except for her aunt’s clutter of beer cans and old copies of the Enquirer. As quiet as possible she stepped into the kitchen, then startled.
Aunt Marge closed the fridge and popped open a beer as she spotted Libby. Her frizzy grey hair stuck out around her wrinkled face.
“Wel, wel, wel. The little criminal shows her face.” Libby fixed her gaze at the floor hoping to prevent a fight then slunk over to the stairs. The best solution was to disappear in her room.
“Where do you think you’re going? Get back here. Your principal thinks we need to have a talk.” She folded her arms across her faded hippy shirt.
Libby lowered her school pack to the floor and returned to the kitchen doorway.
“So what do you have to say for yourself?” Aunt Marge asked with the voice of an evil witch.
Libby knew a trick question when she heard it. No matter what she said, it wouldn’t change the