Chapter 10. Much more problems

When the next morning after the Pen delivery I came into the class, I understood that the police had called not only me. Brent Howe, shaking with his huge fists, was telling what had happened yesterday in his family. Our classmates were listening to him with their jaws dropped.

'Oogh, I promise, I'll find out who did that,' Brent finished his story. 'And I'll kill them on the spot!'

Nick, who'd already known what had happened, because he'd witnessed a sharp conversation between Elmo and me, paled, and trying to look as casual and natural as possible, sat down at his desk. I guess he clearly understood that if Brent found out who'd said his name in that police station, unlike me, he wouldn't confine himself to a conversation.

At that moment Simon Luper came in and added fuel to the flame. His parents also had a call from the police, but unlike Brent and me, Simon spent that fatal Sunday with his parents. But all the same he had to go to that town to bear testimony. Unfortunately, he had an important boxing competition on Saturday and because of this interrogation he had to miss it. So Simon also swore that he'd find out who had set him up so mean, and would knock them out.

On hearing this, Zane, who'd never been afraid of anything, mumbled something about a book he had left somewhere, and slipped out of the class.

'I just don't understand why someone would say our names,' Brent went on raging. 'My dad has already called his lawyer and asked him to go with us. It's one of the best lawyers in the city, so I think it won't be very difficult for him to work out who did that. And then I'll deal with them personally. I promise!'

I glanced at Nick. He tried to look in every direction but not at Brent. And it crossed my mind that all what he wanted was just go to home, as far as possible form Brent and Simon. And I know that it's wrong, but I felt sort of satisfaction, seeing him in such a state.

To his happiness the bell rang and the teacher came in. Everyone stopped arguing immediately and sat down at their desks.

###

That day was difficult. Brent and Simon started working out who had told their names in the police over and over again. Nick and Zane tried to keep away from them. Sunny and I had different classes, so I didn't even see her till the last class.

The last class was English. We gathered together near the classroom, so as we could discuss who and when would go to the graveyard.

'Okay, it's clear,' after a while Elmo said, turning the door knob, 'let's go in.'

Having come into the class we saw a strange picture. A few boys, including Sid Mish, Brent Howe and Simon Luper, panting and swearing, moved the huge book cabinet towards the door. Zane Quistok stood nearby. Waving his arms like an orchestra conductor, he gave commands.

'To the left, Sid! Come on, Brent, push it! Move faster! No, no, this way!' he was saying.

'Why are you doing this?' I immediately became interested in.

'Why?!' Zane waved his arms faster, as if everything was obvious. 'We're making a barricade from Larson. I've already counted everything! Look. Larson comes and tries to open the door, but can't, because this book cabinet stands right behind the door and holds it. It's so heavy and massive, Larson won't be able to open the door even a crack. So Larson pounds on the door, twists the knob, bangs on it, but the door doesn't open. Finally he becomes furious, goes to the principal and tells him that the door is stuck. But while he's talking to the principal, we're moving the book cabinet back to its place and sit down at our desks. Larson and the principal come in and start asking what's going on. We're looking at them with innocent eyes and say that nothing's going on, we're just waiting for Mr Larson, but for some reason he doesn't come. Mr Larson tries to prove that the door didn't open. Mr Frangelli doesn't believe him. They argue, we say that Larson didn't come and so on… till the end of the lesson.'

The more Quistok worked out his idea, the more we inspired by it. Except for some girls and Elmo.

'I don't think that it's a good idea,' he said doubtfully. 'We'll end up in troubles again.'

'Don't be such a coward!' Zane exclaimed. 'Everything will be okay! I'm telling you, I've counted everything!'

'You always count everything,' Nick muttered, hinting at the troubles we were in, which had happened because of Zane's previous idea.

Several kids giggled.

'There's nothing to laugh at,' Quistok resented. 'If you don't want, we won't do anything and will just be listening how Mr Larson drones about the image of Dorian Gray in Shakespeare's oeuvre.'

'Dorian Gray was written by Oscar Wilde,' Sunny corrected him, grinning.

'Whatever!' Quistok waved her off impatiently. 'Mr Larson tells about all of them equally boringly.'

'Stop chatting then!' I exclaimed. 'The bell will ring in a minute.'

'Go back to work!' Quistok started giving commands again.

The boys, completely inspired by his idea, began pushing the heavy book cabinet towards the door. I joined them. Nick didn't mind disrupting the lesson either, but he wasn't going to do anything for that, leaving this to us. He, Elmo and the girls stepped back and watched us in silence. Although, we didn't need their help. Brent, Simon, Sid, me and a couple of other boys could move the book cabinet without them. We pushed it, panting and puffing. The heavy book cabinet slowly moved towards the door.

'Faster! Faster!' Zane commanded. 'Brent, move it to the left! Come on, Tom, heave it!'

I applied all my weight to the heavy cabinet from behind. I worked conscientiously, but automatically. Sad thoughts started flushing through my head again. Our relationship with Sunny got nowhere, let alone Brian, who had been furious since that yesterday ring from the police. Besides, I clearly realized that when we came to that police station to give testimonies, they would understand that we are not those guys who'd been there several days ago. It would cause more troubles for all of us.

Strangely enough, but thinking about troubles, I was in because of Zane's previous idea, I didn't even think to stay away from his new idea. And of course I had to pay for this.

The book cabinet had already almost closed the door, when Jenny, who was to watch the hallway, shouted that Mr Larson was coming. Everyone instantly dashed towards their desks and sat down on their chair.

'Oh, what a pity!' Quistok exclaimed disappointedly.

But he was in a hurry with conclusions. I was so absorbed in my private thoughts that didn't even notice Jenny's warning. Besides, I pushed the book cabinet from behind and didn't see how the others ran away. So I went on heaving at the book cabinet with all my strength. Of course I would never cope with such a ponderous thing on my own. But the old book cabinet obviously decided to help me, because all of a sudden its front legs fell apart. The cabinet leant forward towards the door. Now even my slightest effort was quite enough.

Hardly had Mr Larson came into the classroom, when the book cabinet fell straight onto him. I have to explain why this cabinet was so heavy. Its shelves were occupied with plaster busts of noble writers, scientists and philosophers of the past. As Mr Larson came in, he embraced the falling book cabinet. He often bragged that the long teaching experience helped him to develop skills of a fighter, who could stay safe and sound in any critical situation. Well, he successfully proved that.

But unfortunately Mr Larson didn't have enough power to hold the heavy book cabinet for a long time. He managed to hold it only for about a few seconds, then plaster thinkers of the past took the upper hand over the old teacher. But at least this delay gave Mr Larson time to plan the path of retreat. He made an awesome leap back, just like a kangaroo. By the time the book cabinet crashed to the floor, Mr Larson had been in the middle of the class.

The book cabinet crashed on its side, its glass doors broke. Busts of noble people fell out and rolled along the floor, bumping and overtaking each other. Some of them broke apart, others lost their noses, ears and other parts.

The students stared in horror at this fight of Mr Larson and the book cabinet with their jaws dropped. Completely stuck, I also froze near the book cabinet, looking at Larson, what was a big mistake of me. When I finally came to myself, I made an effort to slip to my desk, but Mr Larson dashed towards me and grabbed my shirt collar.

'To the principal!' he barked. 'You, Moysten, are getting more and more amoral. Today you made an attempt on life and health of a teacher.'

Without letting go of me, he tried to go out of the class, but was stopped by the book cabinet, which blocked off the way out of the class.

'Take it away!' Mr Larson roared at the others. The boys rushed to move the book cabinet away from the door, girls started to collect broken plaster busts.

Zane Quistok was right in two things - the English lesson was disrupted and Mr Larson called the principal. As for the rest, events were developing very differently than Quistok had expected.

Mr Frangelli, the principal, obviously understood that I couldn't handle with such a big and heavy book cabinet on my own. He realized that someone must have helped me. So till the end of the lesson, he and Mr Larson tried to find out who had helped me and why we had done it after all. Of course we couldn't say that we wanted to disrupt the lesson, so we had to make up apologetic excuses that we just wanted to move the book cabinet closer to the door so as everyone could see the busts of noble people behind the glass doors.

'Bunch of hooligans,' Mr Larson grumbled. 'It's just a bunch of hooligans!'

Mr Frangelli gave us a heavy glance. 'So,' he said gravely. 'I can't leave this incident without attention. And I don't want to. Tomorrow we're having a teacher-parent meeting. You and your parents must be there.

Saying this, he turned round and strode out of the class. Mr Larson followed him. Everyone sighed with relief and started to collect their stuff. Zane Quistok grabbed his textbook and pencils, and quickly slipped out of the class. No one saw him that day any more. I guess he had decided not to take any chances and had run straight home.