3.
Jeremy typed nervously, glancing over his shoulder at every creak of the office door. He couldn't believe he was doing this. Why was he doing this? He was going to get in so much trouble. First he'd be expelled, and then his mom would kill him. Not necessarily in that order.
"What's taking so long?"
Oh, that's right. That's why he was doing this.
"It's a really old computer, Gabe," Jeremy hissed back. "It's barely even touch screen. I need to do everything manually."
There was a creak of wood and a quiet shuffling of papers, and Jeremy didn't need to look to know Gabe was looking through the principal's desk. "I can't believe they still have print-outs," his friend complained. "It's so old."
"It's just middle school," Jeremy argued, not really paying attention. "I bet in high school they have all new––" He broke off, suppressing a crow of delight at the windows popping up onscreen.
"What is it?" asked Gabe. He leaned over Jeremy's shoulder to peer at the screen. "You found me?"
"Almost." Jeremy scrolled down slowly, scanning for 'Greene'. Ordinarily he would've just requested a Search, but this comp was voice-coded.
"There," said Gabe, pointing to his name.
Dutifully, Jeremy tapped open the file.
It was a pretty impressive record for a twelve-year-old. Gabriel Greene, Grade 7, Homeroom Kubiki...followed by about fifty pages of trips to the office, letters to his mother, and sundry complaints.
"We need the one from this morning," Gabe instructed urgently, leaning in even more closely. "Before they call my mom again. She'll ground me, like, forever this time."
"What did you even do?" He was in most classes with Gabe, except for math and history. He couldn't imagine what even Gabe could do that would make his mom so mad she'd ground him forever. Elaine was generally accepted by most of the kids in their grade to be one of the nicer moms.
Gabe muttered something under his breath about rubber bands and bald teachers. Then he pointed excitedly at the screen. "There!" he shouted triumphantly, pressing the tab open himself. "Can you delete it?"
"Shh," said Jeremy. He glanced nervously at the door. His mom, now his mom would so ground him forever.
He tapped open an options file and pressed 'Delete'.
Up popped the usual confirmation box. "Are you certain you want to delete this item?"
Jeremy glanced at Gabe uncertainly. "What if he's already seen it?"
"He didn't," Gabe said confidently. "Mr. Robbins only checks new complaints after lunch, and he won't be back for another fifteen minutes."
As if the Universe was listening, footsteps paused at the office door, and keys scratched the old metal lock.
Jeremy leapt back from the console, nearly stumbling over Gabe. "He's here! We are so busted." His eyes jittered around the room like a scared rabbit.
Gabe's glancing search was much more experienced. "Here," he said, pushing his friend towards a small door half-hidden behind a potted plant. "Supply closet." He opened the door, then darted back to the computer and hit 'Yes'. A tiny trash can appeared, and the file vanished.
"C'mon!" hissed Jeremy, already half-crouched behind and old television set.
Gabe swiped the window closed and darted for the closet. He shut the door as quickly and silently as possible behind him just as the main office door opened with a wrenching squeak.
The closet was dark and cramped, and smelled faintly of old paint. The only light came from the crack under the door, half-obscured by their feet and a box of staplers.
Outside, Mr. Robbins was moving around. "What's he doing?" Jeremy breathed, trying not to sneeze from the dust on the brush by his nose. He felt like Ron and Harry in the teachers' lounge in the second book. At least, he comforted himself, his sister was in no danger of being eaten by a giant snake.
Gabe's eyes glinted like a cat's. "I don't know."
Somehow, Jeremy could tell his friend was grinning, the elated grin he always wore when they were about to get in trouble. He only ever got in trouble with Gabe. "You said he wouldn't be back for another fifteen minutes," he accused quietly.
"Maybe he had to get a pen or something." Gabe shrugged. "Listen."
The desk chair was giving off squeaks as their principal moved it. Jeremy could just barely hear him muttering as he set something on the desk.
"Oh no." Jeremy's eyes widened in the dark. "We didn't log out. Gabe, we didn't log out!" He would've shouted, but had to settle for a fierce and frantic whisper.
"Don't worry," Gabe whispered back, equally fierce. "He won't notice. Lemme think."
"How––" Jeremy started to say, but Gabe's hand reached up and covered his mouth. He stopped, carefully ducking away from it, and peered closely at his friend. Gabe's eyes were closed in concentration.
Suddenly, there was a crash and a loud yelp from the office.
"What––!" Jeremy cut himself off this time, not needing Gabe's quick "Shhh" to know when to be quiet. Not that Mr. Robbins would've noticed a quiet exclamation from his supply closet––he was too busy (Jeremy guessed) falling out of his chair.
Jeremy listened with undeniable delight as the principal picked himself up––using words any student would certainly have been sent to the office for uttering––and stormed into the hallway.
"Come on," said Gabe, already tumbling out of the closet. Jeremy followed more cautiously, still trying not to sneeze.
"We've got to log out."
Gabe darted over and erased their presence from the computer, returning it to the blank screen and password request it'd shown before its exposure to Jeremy's steadily improving hacking finesse. He moved toward the door, gesturing impatiently for his friend to follow.
Jeremy was paused in the middle of the room, admiring the remains of the principal's swiveling desk chair. It was crumpled in a heap on the carpet, back twisted halfway around itself and one of the legs broken clean off.
"Wow," he said, looking from Gabe to the chair and back. "Did you do that?"
Gabe shrugged. "Maybe," he admitted. "I can, you know, sometimes do things? Move things. Little things, with my head." He shrugged again. "Or it just broke on its own. It's an old chair."
Footsteps sounded just outside the door, and both boys froze. The footsteps passed.
"Right," said Jeremy, deciding to think about this stunning new revelation after he was away from the threat of expulsion and eternal grounding. "We need to go. Who knows how long it'll take him to get new screws?"
Gabe rolled his eyes, then stuck out his tongue for good measure. "Come on, then." He sniffed. "You're never going to get good at making trouble if you get yourself caught over chairs."
By the time the principal returned with the janitor. they were out of the office and halfway to the cafeteria, arguing the merits of PB&J over leftover chicken, fortuitously missing screws forgotten.