I’m bored to death in second period AP Chemistry when the speaker beeps with an announcement. My teacher sighs and lowers his dry erase marker from where he’d been writing equations on the board. This all boring stuff we learned last year, so I haven’t been taking notes.
Above us, the principal’s voice rings out through the speaker.
“Attention Robert Cullen High School students. It has come to my attention that two of you participated in the vandalism of a greenhouse that belongs to Little Lone Stars Daycare next door.”
What? That old building didn’t belong to the school?
He continues, “I am asking the persons responsible to come forward immediately. If you know any information that will lead to finding the culprits, please come forward. Tips can be made anonymously through the school’s website under the link that says contact us. I hope everyone understands that when one student does something terrible, it reflects badly on all of us. Please come forward immediately. Thank you.”
I chew on the inside of my lip until it bleeds. My teacher turns back to the board and keeps writing his equations. I glance around the classroom and no one seems to care about what we just heard. This is an AP class, so it’s full of smart people who usually never do anything wrong. Do they all assume someone else did it? That no one in this room is capable of mindless destruction?
I tap my pen rapidly against the desk. I can’t believe that thing belonged to the daycare. The idea of destroying a piece of school property is kind of hilarious, especially one that’s not in use. But now that I know it wasn’t even on our campus, I feel like shit.
A new type of fear slivers its way up my spine when I think of what would happen to me at home if my parents found out what I did. My dad is hard enough to deal with on a day when he’s not pissed at the world. My palms go sweaty at the very thought of him finding out the truth.
I shake my head and roll my shoulders, telling myself to get it together.
I don’t know why they made that announcement. They clearly don’t know who did it, so it could be anyone. Someone who doesn’t go to school anymore, or even a total stranger just passing through town. I take a deep breath and tell myself to chill out. They won’t find out that it was me and TJ. They just won’t.
After class, TJ practically slams into me in the hallway. His eyes are wide. “Dude, you keep your mouth shut.”
“About what?” I say, shoving him off me as we walk to our third period class.
“You know what,” he hisses.
“Dude, shut up. Just don’t even talk about it. No one will find out.”
He shoves me on the arm. “You better not crack and go narc on me.”
“Why would I tell on you?” I say in a hushed voice. “I’d be telling on myself too, you dumbass. My lips are sealed.”
TJ nods once, his jaw tight. “Good.”
*
I’ve pretty much forgotten the whole thing until seventh period athletics. As soon as I hit the locker room and change into my practice soccer uniform, I realize the loud rock music isn’t playing like it normally is from Coach’s office.
As we file out of the locker room and onto the field, Coach tells us to stand in line in front of the bleachers.
“Have a seat,” he says. He seems pissed, which is odd because Coach is usually laid back and fun. Two people down, TJ is glaring at me and I have no idea why.
“You know where I just came from?” Coach asks, but it’s in that way where we know he doesn’t want us to answer. “A meeting with the police and the school administration. I spent an hour watching a security video, trying to figure out which of my athletes were the two men responsible for vandalizing a small business’ greenhouse.”
I nearly crap myself on the spot. I don’t dare look over at TJ so I don’t give us away. Coach is taking turns staring us all down. I lift my eyebrows like I’m totally shocked to hear this news, like I can’t believe one of my teammates did something so stupid.
“Next time you decide to commit a crime, make sure you’re not on a security camera, and make damn sure you’re not wearing the Hornet’s soccer hoodie.”
He paces the length of the bleachers where the fourteen of us are sitting. “I was so proud of my varsity team this summer when we were doing training. And now, on the first day of school, you’ve gone and ruined our reputation.”
“Not all of us!” Mickey Russo says. “You said it was two people! You can’t blame this on all of us!”
Coach whirls on him. “This is a team. What one of you does reflects on all of you.” He turns back to face us, his eyes narrowed. “Two of you are guilty and I hope you both come forward. I’ll give you thirty seconds to be honorable and do it now.”
He goes silent and we all sit here. My heart is pounding, but I know he doesn’t know who actually did it or he would have taken us to the principal already. I casually glance down and then look slightly to my left. TJ is looking straight at me. I look away.
The thirty seconds seems to take forever. No one says a word. No one does anything.
Eventually, Coach looks at his watch and then back at us. “I’m very disappointed. Get up and hit the field. We’ll be doing drills all day today.”
A chorus of groans echoes what I’m thinking. Drills are hardcore workouts. Burpees, pushups, sprints. They suck.
Coach waves his hand to shut us up. “Until the two people responsible for the vandalism fess up, you’ll be doing drills every practice. I’m tempted to forfeit all of our games as well.”
“Fucking turn yourself in,” Mickey yells, glowering at his teammates.
“Yeah!” someone else says.
I nod like an idiot, like I agree with them. The guilty person should just turn themselves in.
I’ve never felt more stupid in my life.
We hit the field and do drills until my chest aches and my leg muscles are screaming. Everyone bitches about it, and the guys keep telling each other to just turn yourself in if you did the vandalism. Carlos Valdes even makes a stand at one point, saying how do we know those hoodies in the video are even real, or that two other people, maybe players from our rival team didn’t steal our hoodies to commit this crime on purpose.
I have to admit, I get behind that one. We all talk it out while doing the drills, coming up with scenarios where maybe the hoodies were faked, made with a homemade screen printing machine for the sole purpose of malice.
Coach doesn’t care about any of our theories, though. He just makes us do drills until our two hours is over and we all feel like we’re going to die.
I hit the locker room and shower quickly. All I want to do is get home and take another shower, one with actual hot water, and then down some pain meds to soothe my aching muscles. I thought I was in pretty good shape before today. But doing two hours of drills really wears you out.
The locker room is quieter than usual as we pack up to head home. It’s like everyone is suspicious of everyone else. We’re all looking for someone to blame for the extra drill punishment we all had to endure. I keep to myself, knowing the blame lies solely with TJ and me, and feeling like absolute shit for it.
But there’s no way I can turn myself in now. My dad would kill me. The team would hate me. TJ would be pissed. Not to mention, it would be embarrassing as hell.
I grab my keys and head out to the parking lot, realizing I’m one of the last guys to leave. I guess everyone else was so pissed and exhausted that they rushed home. I walk slowly, my legs still aching, making my way out to my truck which is parked on the last row. Now I wish I hadn’t gotten to school late today so I could have parked closer and saved myself this agonizing walk.
I glance over at the destroyed greenhouse as I pass it, noting that it’s totally in the boundaries of the daycare’s property. How had I not noticed that before? The grass is even a little greener over there because they have a sprinkler system installed.
I nearly trip over my own feet when I see someone sitting there, at the heap of rubble that used to be a greenhouse.
She’s folded her knees up to her chest, and her chin rests on top of them. I recognize her hair first. It’s the girl from my homeroom class. Clarissa something.
I get into my truck and watch her. I wonder if she needs a ride home. There’s only two cars left in the parking lot, mine and Coach’s. But she’s just sitting there, not looking like she’s in a hurry to leave.
Why would anyone want to sit by an old greenhouse?
She lifts her head and uses both of her hands to wipe under her eyes. Is she crying?
Over a stupid greenhouse?
I bite on my lip. I don’t even know this girl but now I’m dying to ask her what she’s doing, mourning the loss of something that belongs to a daycare. But just like earlier today when I could have come clean, I don’t do what I should do. If the way that girl treats me in class is any indication, she doesn’t want me poking around in her life trying to ask what’s wrong. So I let it go, start my truck and drive away.