I'm back. And here is the chapter I promised you.
I am going to temporarily ease away from Artemis in this chapter. This one's told from Bradon's point of view. Probably not as much Artemis as you all would like, but I promise it will all lead up to something Artemis related next chapter.
Dedication: For saturnz-moonlit-beauty. Thank you for your multiple reviews!
WARNING: This chapter is rated T for mature language. I've kept the bad words to a minimum so far, but this chapter is a different story. I had to do the rating thing just to be safe.
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The next day, Bradon was running laps in gym, and doing well, he might add. He wasn't on any sports teams, but he enjoyed playing them, so he didn't mind P.E. Having it first hour wasn't appealing. He'd only woken up thirty minutes ago, for Pete's sake! But he could deal with it.
Artemis was sitting in the bleachers comfortably. It was the strangest thing. That morning, the school received an e-mail from Artemis' old school saying he had filled all his gym requirements, and there was a mistake in the original transcript. How could someone have taken a high school gym class when this is their first year of high school? It didn't make sense, but the faculty said the e-mail was valid, so it had to be right. Right?
Whatever happened, Artemis would be transferred to another class by next week.
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Bradon walked through the door of the Physical Science classroom third hour. He flashed Mrs. Maxwell a cheery smile as she sat behind her desk. The gesture wasn't returned. He took his seat and class began.
Mrs. Maxwell passed out textbooks. Was it Bradon's imagination or was his textbook the oldest, rattiest one of them all? Then they opened up to chapter three, section one. Bradon's hand shot in the air.
"Yes?" Mrs. Maxwell inquired, impatiently.
"Why are we starting on chapter three?"
She didn't answer immediately, as if debating whether his question was worth answering. "Because, Mr. Frome, our curriculum begins with electricity, and that is what chapter three focuses on."
"But why don't you start on chapter one?" he wondered. "Wouldn't it make more sense to go in order?"
Mrs. Maxwell squinted. "That's enough. This is your first warning. If you continue to ask irrelevant questions, I will send you to the office."
"Do irrelevant questions bother you?" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. His classmates found is amusing. His teacher did not.
"Second warning. If I hear one more word come out of your mouth, you're out of here. Do I make myself clear?"
Bradon nodded, lips pressed tight. He shared a smirk with the other kids at his table. Mrs. Maxwell started her lesson talking about electrical currents and their flow through…blah blah…the electrons jump…yadda yadda…if you cut off the flow…boring, this is, boring.
Ten minutes later, Bradon raised his hand. Mrs. Maxwell pointedly ignored him. So, he raised his hand higher. Still, she didn't seem to see him, so it only makes sense for him to start waving his arm back and forth wildly.
Twenty minutes of desperately trying to get her attention finally paid off. She sighed. "I said not another word, Brendon."
"It's Bradon. Bray-duhn," he lowered his hand. "And it's really important."
"What?" she asked suspiciously.
"I have to use the facilities," he said, deadly serious.
"You should have gone before class started."
"If you don't let me leave, fine. It's your classroom. But I'm not cleaning up the mess."
"Ugg!" one girl exclaimed. "That is disgusting!"
"Go," Mrs. Maxwell ordered like it was her idea in the first place. "But make sure you sign out."
Bradon put his signature on the sign out list that every teacher had by their door and took off into the hall. He hadn't been kidding earlier. He practically ran to the nearest bathroom. He took much more time making his way back.
As he passed by classrooms with open doors, the students in them always watched as he went by. Like it was so unusual for a student to be in the hall during class. Next time he should do a little dance or something, make it worth their time.
In between the bathroom and Mrs. Maxwell's domain was the office. He glanced through the glass window on the door, and something caught his eye. On the wall was an area for brochures and flyers. He wondered if there was anything interesting. Hmm…Mrs. Maxwell would want him back under her supervision as soon as possible. That settled it.
The computer room was across from the office. A couple eyes were on him as he entered. He was now in an area with a copier and other doors leading to the principle, vice principle, secretaries, and counselors' offices. Bradon shuffled through the brochures. They were all for colleges and stuff. Whatever. There was a flyer for an animal shelter trying to give pets good homes. Cool.
Bradon had always wanted a dog. He would show that to his mom. Maybe she would finally agree. He pulled out the flyer, folded it, and stuffed it in his pocket.
He didn't move for a second. Then he remembered. Oh, yeah. Science.
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The lunch lady looked at Bradon expectantly.
"Nachos, please."
She handed him a tray of nachos. Behind him, blonde-haired Chester ordered cheese sticks.
"It should be illegal to give homework on the first week of school," Chester complained. "I already have, like, an hour's worth."
"That sucks," Bradon sympathized.
"Don't you have any homework?"
Bradon shrugged. "Probably."
"Dude, you're gonna fail again if you keep that attitude," Chester said, matter-of-factly.
Bradon just shrugged again.
Someone tapped. Him on the shoulder. He turned around to be face to face with the principle. "Hi."
"Bradon Frome?"
Bradon nodded.
"Follow me."
"Why?"
The principle looked solemn. "Don' pretend you don't know."
"What am I pretending I don't know? Because I'm not sure."
"You are already in enough trouble as it is. You're just asking for more."
"Wait-what? More?" Bradon repeated.
"Come on, Bradon. I want to get this over with as much as you do," he turned, indicating Bradon should come along.
Bradon abandoned his tray and followed him away from the lunch line. Chester shot him a look as if to say, "What's going on?" Bradon raised his arms in an "I'm not sure" way.
The walk to the office was silent. Bradon was seriously confused. It sounded like he'd done something wrong. But he couldn't think of anything bad enough worth a principle escort. Maybe that flyer wasn't free. He'd give it back. The principle led him into his personal office and sat behind his desk which held a little "Principle Wincher" plaque.
"Earlier in the day, I left my office to run a few errands. When I came back, I found a little surprise."
Bradon blinked, no clue where this was going.
Principle Wincher continued his story. "It seems someone came in here without permission, typed up a nice little message using my e-mail, and left the screen up for me to see on my return."
He turned his computer monitor so it faced Bradon. The boy read:
Fuck this dumb school. The teachers can all go to hell. This place should be shut down. It's terribly run and has shitty rules. Learn how to run a damn school!
Bradon let out a long, low whistle. Then, he couldn't help it, he laughed.
The principle cleared his throat, "You think this is funny, but it is very serious."
Bradon sobered up at once. "Yeah…why are you showing this to me?"
"I have a number of sources saying you did this."
Bradon was shocked. "W-what? I didn't do it."
"A handful of students saw you go into the office. Your teacher, Mrs. Maxwell, informed me that you were very eager to leave her classroom."
"You'd be eager to leave, too, if you'd been holding it in for half an hour," Bradon defended. "I used the toilet!"
"Then you went to the office at the same time as when I was away," Principle Wincher added.
Okay, this looks bad. Think. Think! Got it!
"All I did was pick up a flyer, you know, the ones right outside your door. I'll show you." Bradon raided his pocket for the piece of paper. The principle waited expectantly. Bradon removed his hands from his pockets empty handed. "It…it must have fallen out…"
"Take a seat."
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Bradon was sitting in the chair opposite the principle's desk. He did not look in his mother's direction when she entered the office, not wanting to know how angry she was. Principle Wincher stood to shake her hand. "I'm sorry to call you in like this."
He went on to explain everything that happened and even showed her the computer screen. Mrs. Frome was civil and polite but became oddly silent when she read the e-mail. Bradon focused his eyes on the floor the whole time.
"While it was probably only meant as a joke of some sort, this could easily be taken as a threat," the principle said. "The most severe thing I could do is expel him-"
Bradon felt his insides freeze up.
"-but I won't go that far. Especially since this is only his second day here, it wouldn't be fair to not give him a second chance. On the other hand, he is suspended for four days, and there will be a mark on his school record for reference, in case of…future mishaps. That's as low as I'm willing to go."
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Not a single word was exchanged on the car ride home. It wasn't until they were safely in the living room that Mrs. Frome released what she was obviously holding in ever since she got the first phone call.
"What were you thinking, Bradon? I hope you're proud. You got yourself suspended. On the second day of school, too. The second day! You just can't help yourself, can you?"
Bradon looked straight into her eyes. "I didn't do it."
She didn't believe him. "Of course you did. This is exactly the kind of prank you would pull, only you went way too far this time!"
"What? I would never do anything like that!" Bradon was insulted.
"And yet, you did!"
"Were you listening to me earlier? I said I didn't do it!"
"And you expect me to believe that?"
"Yes!"
"I've warned you about swearing in this house many times," she scolded. "You don't seem to care that I disapprove. It would be like you to write that."
Bradon was furious, now. "Hello! If you determined guilt based on kids who swear, only about four kids in the school would be innocent! And I don't even do it that much, way less than most boys my age."
Mrs. Frome folded her arms. "I've heard you use the f-word."
Oh, yeah. That settled it. Not.
"The word is fuck, Mom. Just say it." Pause.
"Go to your room," she ordered, dangerously quiet.
Bradon took the steps two at a time to the basement bedroom and threw himself on his bed.
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A couple hours later, Chase came down the stairs and threw his backpack on his own bed.
"Is school over?" Bradon asked, getting into a sitting position.
"Yeah," his brother responded. "I heard you cussed out the principle."
Bradon let out a noise somewhere between a growl and a sigh. "I didn't do it. How many times do I have to say it?"
"Yeah, whatever you say." He clearly didn't believe him. Chase went back up the stairs, and Bradon followed in his wake.
"I'm a victim of circumstance," he complained. "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like in all those mystery movies. I was framed!"
They were in the kitchen now. Chase pulled a Pepsi out of the fridge and headed into the living room, Bradon right behind him. "Really, it wasn't my fault. The real perpetrator is still out there, not grounded, not suspended. They're roaming free. Where's the justice in this world?"
Chase was unmoved. "Stop following me," he said.
Just then, Robin and Artemis came in through the front door. Robin's eyes lit up when she saw Bradon. "There you are! We couldn't find you after school. Where were you?"
"In his room, the same place he's going to go back to, right now," Mrs. Frome appeared.
Robin frowned. "Why? What happened?"
Mrs. Frome explained the day's events.
Robin's eyes went wide with shock. "Bradon!" Artemis remained quiet, his expression unreadable.
"I didn't do it. I didn't do it. I didn't do it." Maybe the phrase would be more effective if it was said multiple times in a row.
Robin looked at her mother, who said, "There were witnesses."
"You can't argue with witnesses," Robin said apologetically.
"I'm not lying," Bradon sounded desperate. "But if you think I am, then I don't want to talk to you anyway."
Robin looked stung, but Bradon knew she deserved it.
You see, Artemis was still so new here that there are certain aspects about him that the Fromes hadn't picked up on yet. For example, if he had been at home with his parents and Butler, they would have noticed the look on Artemis' face and realized that he was silently analyzing the situation before him. And usually when Artemis analyzed something, it led to a conclusion. And that conclusion led to a plan that only someone like him could come up with…
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For some reason, I am very nervous about this chapter. I'm not sure how my audience will respond. I almost don't want to know what you guys think.
Artemis WILL be the main character again in the next chapter. I promise.