Authors: Doug Wilhelm
The Revealers (11 page)
We were getting out of social studies the next day when Ms. Hogeboom said, “Oh, Russell.”I stepped out of the funnel of kids cramming for the door.
“I read your
Revealer
on the network,” she said.
Revealer
on the network,” she said.
I blinked. “You did?”
“I did. Is that a problem?”
“Well ⦠I thought we only sent it to the kids.”
“Well, I got it,” she said. “Maybe you sent it to the whole school.”
For a second the room rippled. “The
whole school?
Like Mrs. Capelli and everybody?” Mrs. Capelli was the principal. She still is.
whole school?
Like Mrs. Capelli and everybody?” Mrs. Capelli was the principal. She still is.
“Could be,” Ms. Hogeboom said. “I just wanted to say I think it's bold and challenging. It's like an underground newspaper.”
“A what?”
She laughed. “Of course you've never heard of an underground newspaper, have you?”
“Uh ⦠not really.”
“It's a newspaper that challenges the establishment.”
Her eyes were sparkling. I had no idea what she was talking about.
“The
establishment
is the way people imagine things have to be,” she said. “Especially people who have power.”
establishment
is the way people imagine things have to be,” she said. “Especially people who have power.”
That word “power” bumped me back to reality. “Like Mrs. Capelli?” I said. My mouth felt dry. You know those fortunetelling eight ballsâthe ones that you ask a question and shake, and then you look in the window until the answer comes swimming up? I felt as if the answer was swimming up at me, and it was:
You made a big mistake
.
You made a big mistake
.
“Well, yes, in part,” Ms. Hogeboom said. “But I think the establishment isn't so much people as it is people's
assumptions
. I mean, people assume these sorts of incidents are a fact of life at your age. We tend to say, âOh well, kids will be kids.' It's almost like we assume that cruelty and violence are part of growing up. I wonder why we assume that?”
assumptions
. I mean, people assume these sorts of incidents are a fact of life at your age. We tend to say, âOh well, kids will be kids.' It's almost like we assume that cruelty and violence are part of growing up. I wonder why we assume that?”
Ms. Hogeboom was pretty much talking to herself at this point. “See how you've made me think?”
“We really didn't mean for grownups to see it,” I said.
She nodded. “I wonder what Janet will think,” she murmured.
I had a feeling Mrs. Capelli (that's Janet) might not be thrilled. Hadn't we said abuse of kids by kids was out of control at her school? And Mrs. Capelli was a fairly stiff character anyway. She tended to consider your behavior either “appropriate” or “inappropriate”âand there wasn't much doubt in my mind where on that scale this was going to fall.
I suddenly wondered if Mrs. Capelli wasn't the “certain authority figure” that made Mr. Dallas nervous about how we used the Net. “Be careful,” he'd said. He probably couldn't bring himself to say, “Be appropriate.”
“You better run,” Ms. Hogeboom said.
I was thinking the same thing.
Â
Â
Elliot was back that day. After school I was at his locker, holding his crutches while he filled his backpack.
I sagged against the locker. “You know what we did?”
“What?”
“We sent
The Revealer
to the whole school. Not just the kids.”
The Revealer
to the whole school. Not just the kids.”
“So what?”
“So
what?
Don't you think that's bad?”
what?
Don't you think that's bad?”
“I don't know. What's wrong with it?”
Just then, Jake Messner stopped by. “Hey, guys,” he said.
“Ah ⦠hey.”
“You know whatâit's pretty cool what you're doing,” Jake said. “That KidNet thing.”
Elliot stared at him.
“Thanks,” I said.
“I bet everyone read itâbut nobody's saying much,” Jake said. He lowered his voice. “What do you think that means?”
“I don't know,” I said.
He shook his head. “Me neither. Well, anywayâI hope you keep going with it. Let me know if I can help. Okay?”
“Sure,” I said.
He gave a little wave and walked away.
“Don't stand there goggling,” I said to Elliot. “You look like a frog.”
“Jake Messner said we were cool.”
“He didn't say we were cool. He said
The Revealer
kind of was.
The Revealer
kind of was.
“He didn't say
kind of,”
Elliot said. “He said pretty cool.”
kind of,”
Elliot said. “He said pretty cool.”
“He's a decent guy.”
“And you're worried about people reading the thing,” Elliot said. He swung his backpack on and staggered backward on wobbly crutches. I grabbed and steadied him.
“I'm still getting the hang of these,” he said. “Hey! That
thing you wrote about Richie punching you. Let's put that in the next
Revealer
.”
thing you wrote about Richie punching you. Let's put that in the next
Revealer
.”
“What? No way.”
Elliot peered at me. “I wrote about the Rots,” he said. “Catalina wrote about Bethany.”
“Catalina did not write about Bethany.”
“Sort of, she did.”
“You are not broadcasting what I wrote. I'm serious, Elliot.”
“Why? Everybody else is supposed to tell their stories, but you don't need to tell yours?” Elliot started swinging himself down the hall.
“No, I don't need to. And maybe I don't want to.”
He stopped. “You're afraid he'll pound you again if you do.”
I shook my head. “Actually, I don't think he would. When Burke and Blanchette started threatening me, Richie scared them away. Not that I needed him to,” I added quickly.
“So you think he's your buddy now? Richie
Tucker?
”
Tucker?
”
“No. It's just that he's been acting ⦠different. He said I could ask him questions.”
Elliot blinked. “Questions?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, do! Ask him why he terrorizes people.”
“I did that already. He almost broke my face.”
“Okay, so ask him
how
he does it. How does he get to people like that? How does he make a person so scared?”
how
he does it. How does he get to people like that? How does he make a person so scared?”
“Hmm,” I said. “He might like getting asked that. Or he might break my face.”
“I can see it now: PROFILE OF A PREDATOR,” Elliot said, holding up one hand like he was scanning a headline. He grinned. “Who wouldn't read
that?”
that?”
Â
When my mom got home she said, “What are you up to tonight?” It was Friday.
I shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Well, why don't you see if Elliot and Catalina would like to go to the movies? If it wouldn't be too uncomfortable for him. I think you three ought to do something together.”
It wasn't a bad idea. Elliot wasn't sure how his ankle would be if he sat in a chair that long, but he was sick of being home. Catalina hesitated just a second, then she said yes.
The nineplex at the downtown plaza was the place to go. We picked up Elliot first; he hopped into the back and we slid his crutches between the two front seats. They stuck into the back like a divider. When we got to Catalina's, my mom made me go to the door and ring the bell. Catalina came out in tights and a skirt. I'd only seen her in jeans. Suddenly I felt funny about this. I didn't know whether to get back in the front seat or leave it for Catalina. I decided to open the back door and slide in.
My mom turned around quick and gave me a look.
“What?”
“You could open the door for her,” she said. “You did it for Elliot.”
“Elliot's on crutches.”
Catalina got in the front seat. My mom scrunched her face at me in the mirror. Then she smiled at Catalina.
“You look terrific,” she said.
“Thank you,” Catalina said, and she looked down at her tights. She was quiet. We were all quiet. Suddenly I wanted to be back home on the computer, or watching TV or reading comic books or something. Anything but this.
“What do you three want to see?” my mom asked.
“
Obliterator Three
,” I said.
Obliterator Three
,” I said.
“
Biohazard
,” said Elliot.
Biohazard
,” said Elliot.
“I would like to see
Forever Yours,”
said Catalina.
Forever Yours,”
said Catalina.
My mom scanned us, smiling, with her eyebrows up. “Well, there's something to talk about,” she said.
But we didn't. We just sat there.
Â
“Catalina's such a pretty name,” my mom finally said.
“Thank you. I was named for the flying boat.”
“Pardon?”
“The PBY Catalina. It was an American naval patrol plane in the Pacific during World War II. My grandfather Diodado chose the name. He served with Americans, in the guerrilla campaign. Catalinas flew over to drop supplies.”
“Very ⦠historic,” my mom said.
“Catalina was also a Catholic saint,” Catalina said. “And a really big American car.”
“A Buick,” I said.
“No,” my mom said, “a Pontiac. I remember. It was huge.”
“That's right. A Pontiac. My grandfather liked all three. But mainly the flying boat.”
“Interesting,” my mom said.
Catalina shrugged. “That's the Philippines.”
Â
Even being in line for the movies was complicated. Halfway up the line in the outer lobby was Bethany and her group. She turned when we came through the glass doors and took in our pitiful little trio, Elliot struggling on his crutches, Catalina hugging herself tight, me looking at anything but my only two friends. A smug smile came over Bethany's face, and she turned regally away. Also partway up the line was Turner White, alone as always, in black as always. Through the glass lobby doors I could see Allison Kukovna and two of
her
friends. The adults and teenagers between all of us were like spacers.
her
friends. The adults and teenagers between all of us were like spacers.
“What are we going to do?” Elliot said.
“About what?”
“Which movie.”
“It doesn't matter which movie you say,” I said. “You can still go wherever you want inside.”
He looked worried, though. Worried and geeky.
“Do they all start at the same time?” he asked.
I looked up at the list. “Yeah,” I said. “Pretty much.”
When we got to the window, we each said our own movie. When we got inside, Bethany's group had gone ahead, but Allison had held up hers.
“Hi, Catalina,” she said. “What are you seeing?” She smiled at us, too. I will give her that. Allison was basically all right.
“I would like to see
Forever Yours
,” Catalina said, and glanced back at us.
Forever Yours
,” Catalina said, and glanced back at us.
“Oh, we are, too!” Allison ducked her head. “This is my
third
time. How many times have you seen it?”
third
time. How many times have you seen it?”
“I haven't,” Catalina said, huddling into herself.
“Well, my godâcome on!”
Allison started to go; then she looked back at us. Her friends looked at each other. Catalina looked at us, too, and we saw what she wanted to do.
“It's okay,” Elliot said.
“Yeah,” I said. “It's fine.”
“Are you sure?” She was almost whispering.
“Definitely.”
She turned and was pulled by invisible girl energies into Allison's group. They went off across the lobby, up the carpeted stairs. Elliot and I stood there watching.
“Hey,” said a voice behind us, “you don't want to see that goony tearjerker stuff anyway.”
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