OCR Text |
Show 133 TWENTY-THREE Monday mornings at school had always been special for Dyna. The halls were scrubbed and shiny, the place was quiet for a change, everyone being half-asleep from the weekend rigors. Even the teachers started out optimistic on Mondays. Figuratively and literally, the slate was clean at the beginning of the week. However, this Monday, the 16th of May, was something else. For Dyna, today was the end. This morning was the end. Sergeant Fowler was taking her back to detention as soon as she checked out of school. "Be outside at ten," he'd told her. "That's plenty of time. And no funny stuff, you be there." The bomb ticking away inside her was ready to explode at the slightest jiggle. She had a vision of herself splattered over the locker corridor, her guts making surrealistic patterns on Parker's clean floors. She hoped and prayed no one would say goodbye. Even that, a simple "goodbye," would trigger it: Splat! Insides everywhere! The lady in the office had been perfunctory. "What a shame," was all she said, fishing Dyna's card from a file after conferring briefly with the counselor. True to his word, Sergeant Fowler had called the school early. Then, following the footsteps she'd left behind Friday night, she walked along the cool hallway to her locker. Someone tapped her on the shoulder as she stacked her books for the check-out. It was Lisa, hurrying on past. "Hustle!" she called over her shoulder. "The magazine just came in." Thank God, the literary magazine! Dyna rested her head against the locker. They'd be so excited they wouldn't notice she was leaving. A month ago, she couldn't wait to see her poem and her essay in print. Now it didn't matter. At least, it didn't matter much. Dyna left her sweater on the hook. She bent to throw her notebook in, then closed the door and twirled the combination. "Hey, Dynamite!" a voice called from the student throng thickening the hallway. So Derek's still acting like a_ sixth-grader. What do you care? Don't get mad for once. |