In a Flash (7 page)

“I know how she's doing,” I said. “She's probably feeling just awful.”

Julia and I had been in school together since grade school, and I couldn't remember her even having a detention before.

“I imagine that the boycott is off,” my mother said.

“Completely dead.”

“I'm not surprised. Your principal cut the head off the snake,” my father said. “Not that I'm calling Julia a snake. It's just a saying. You take away the leadership, the head.”

“No, I understand. Without a leader, things just fizzle.”

“Unless somebody else becomes the leader, steps in and—” My mother stopped mid-sentence. “You're not planning on becoming that leader, are you?”

“He'd just suspend you too,” my father added before I could answer.

“I wasn't even sure I was going to take part in the boycott,” I said to reassure them.

My mother let out a sigh. “That's good to know...very reassuring.”

“I just don't think school dances are that big a deal.”

“They're not,” my father agreed. “Of course this has less to do with school dances and more to do with your friend trying to stand up and then being suspended.”

“It almost sounds like you're trying to talk him
into
doing something,” my mother snapped.

“Of course I'm not,” he protested.

He spun me around in my seat and looked me squarely in the eyes. “Give me your word you won't do anything that will get you in trouble, get you suspended.”

“Sure, you have my word.”

My mother reached down and gave me a little hug.

“Good,” my father said. “Let's have supper.”

“I'll be up in a minute,” I said.

My parents left my room, leaving me alone with Julia's Facebook page. She was there on the screen, smiling at me. She probably wasn't smiling now. Why hadn't she listened to me? She was suspended, and there was nothing I could do about it. Well, there was nothing I could do about the suspension, but still, there might be something I
could
do.

The lunch bell rang, and I jumped out of my seat and sprinted out of the room. I was almost in the hall before the ringing stopped echoing off the wall. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and ran along the hall and down the steps, taking them three at a time. I pushed open the door and ran to where Oswald was going to meet me. I didn't have to wait long. He came charging around the side of the building at a full run.

He skidded to a stop in front of me.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.

“Pretty sure. The worst thing that can happen is I get suspended.”

“Wrong,” Oswald said. “The worst thing that can happen is that
I
get suspended.”

I couldn't help but laugh.

“A suspension for me would be a death sentence,” he continued.

“Don't be such a drama queen.”

“I'm not. My parents would kill me.”

“I'll make sure that if anybody gets suspended it's me. I'm totally responsible. We better get moving.”

We started across the parking lot, toward the bridge.

“I don't know if I'd be so helpful if she'd written those things about me,” Oswald said.

“This isn't about Julia.”

He snorted. “Sure it's not.”

“It isn't. Besides, even if I wanted to stop it now I don't think I could. Look around.”

There was a stream of kids, some in
front, but most behind us, heading for the bridge. It looked like there were already thirty or forty people in the field on the other side of the bridge.

“Mr. Roberts isn't going to like this,” Oswald said.

“That's the point.”

I stopped at the bridge, stepping aside, and dropped my backpack to the ground. I opened it up and pulled out the bullhorn I'd borrowed from the gym department. The gym teacher hadn't asked what I needed it for.

I put it up to my mouth and pushed the button. It buzzed slightly.

“Please move across the bridge,” I said. “Make sure you keep all banned items in your bag or in your pockets until you get over the bridge.”

The lines of people streaming out of the school all came together, funneling into one line to cross the bridge. There were a lot of kids. Hundreds and hundreds. That was good. Well, good if I wanted to get Mr. Roberts' attention. I guess that was the point of this flash mob.

Kids kept passing by. I knew a lot of them, but there were a lot I didn't know. It seemed like everybody knew
me
though. So many kids said hello, or yelled out or just gave me the thumbs-up. Everybody seemed really happy, as if they were heading to a party. That made sense. It was sort of a party.

Kids kept coming out of the school, but the crest of the wave had already passed by. It was time for me to get over there and start leading.

“Come on,” I said to Oswald. “I wonder how many kids there—”

“I counted over nine hundred,” Oswald replied.

“Come on, you're kidding, right?”

“Not kidding. Counting is one of my skills. I'm not just a pretty face, you know.”

“So, nine hundred kids out of a population of less than fifteen hundred is almost two-thirds of the entire school.”

“Almost, but there are
more
than nine hundred. That doesn't count the kids who were already over there before I started
counting, and there are more coming. Probably more like seventy-five percent of the school is already out here. Pretty impressive for less than a day of planning.”

“The beauty of flash mobs.”

We crossed the bridge, and I climbed up onto a garbage can, using it like a stage. I put the bullhorn up to my mouth.

“Can I have your attention!” I called out.

Everybody stopped talking and laughing and moving and looked at me.

“Thank you all for coming out to our unofficial school dance.”

A gigantic cheer went up, and people waved their hands in the air.

“Enjoy yourselves, dance to your music and be kind to each other, and we'll give you a signal when it's time to head back to school.”

“What if we don't want to head back to school?” a boy yelled out, and others cheered.

“You can do what you want,” I answered. “But I hope everybody will head back. It'll
send a message about who we are, about how we can have a dance. Okay, everybody get ready.”

All around me people pulled their iPods out of pockets and pouches and purses.

“Enjoy the dance!” I yelled.

Everybody all around put the buds in their ears, turned on their iPods and began dancing to their own music!

Standing on top of the garbage can, I was able to take in the whole scene. There were about a thousand kids, all plugged in to their own music, dancing to hundreds of different tunes, all without a single sound—a silent dance.

I jumped down from the garbage can and set down the bullhorn. Oswald climbed up onto the can, taking my place. He pulled out his video camera and started to film.

I removed my iPod from my pocket, clipped on the headphones and pushed Play. John Legend came through the earbuds, and I started to dance as well. I might as well enjoy the moment—no telling how it was going to end.

The dance was amazing, everybody doing their own thing. Some danced fast, some slow, some wild, all grooving to their own tunes—sounds that nobody else could hear. Sometimes people exchanged iPods. Sometimes there were couples—either a boy and a girl or a couple of girls—who each had one earbud from the same iPod and were listening to the same song, dancing to the same beat.

When I wasn't watching the crowd, I
kept an eye on the school, waiting for Mr. Roberts to appear. Part of me wanted him to come out. The other part wanted him to stay away, either unaware or ignoring what was going on out here. That would have been easier, but what would have been the point? Then, almost like I'd magically made him appear, he did. He walked across the parking lot toward the bridge. It was a slow, deliberate walk.

I gestured for Oswald, got his attention and pointed toward the school. He saw Mr. Roberts too and jumped down off the garbage can. I couldn't blame him for not wanting to stand head and shoulders above the crowd. It would be much better to just blend in. I wished I had that choice.

I kept my iPod playing and I kept dancing, but I danced toward the bridge. I wanted to be there when he crossed.

He came across the parking lot by himself. He moved with confidence, no hesitation. As he got closer, I was relieved to see that he wasn't carrying his baseball
bat—not that I really thought he would be, but just the same, I'd wondered.

He stopped in the middle of the bridge, the spot where school property ended. He stood there, looking out at the scene of most of the students from his school, dancing. I would have paid to know what he was thinking. Then he looked at me, locking his eyes on mine. He started toward me. I wasn't going to have to pay to find out what was on his mind.

He stopped directly in front of me. I pulled out my earbuds.

“Good afternoon, Ian,” he said. His voice was calm.

“Hello, sir,” I said. Showing respect couldn't hurt.

“I assume this is all your doing.”

“Why would you think that?” I asked.

“Who else could organize a flash mob like this except you?” he asked.

For a split second I thought about denying it, but I knew there was no point.

I nodded. “I did it.”

“You given any thought to how this might end?” he asked.

“I know exactly how it'll end.”

“You do?” He sounded surprised.

“Yeah.” I looked at my watch. “In thirteen minutes Oswald is going to use the bullhorn to tell everybody that the dance is over, and everybody will go back to school.”

“That's good to know,” he said. “And do you know how it's going to end for
you
?”

“I'm going back to school with everybody else.”

“Are you?”

His question sent a shiver up my spine. I had to stay calm.

“Why wouldn't I go back to school?”

“Have you thought about the possibility of a suspension?” he asked.

I swallowed hard. “I thought about it, and I don't think you
can
suspend me.”

“I can suspend anybody I want.”

“If you have a reason to suspend them, and I don't think you have a reason.”

He gestured at the crowd all around us.

I looked at the crowd and noticed that
while most people were still dancing, some had pulled off their earbuds and were listening to us instead of music. Great, an audience.

“You know that I banned iPods, and I cancelled the school dance,” he said.

“This isn't a school dance,” I said. “This isn't school property, right?”

“No, it's not,” he agreed.

“And as far as I can tell, we're free to leave school property at lunch. We're also free to use our iPods or cell phones or wear anything we want when we're not on school property. I'm not asking anybody to cut class. I just invited them to join me for lunch. I'm not doing anything wrong. At least nothing that could get me suspended.” I paused. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“You cancelled the school dance because there were behavior problems, right?”

“That was the reason.”

“Fights, alcohol and bad behavior,” I said.

“Those were the reasons.”

“Look around. None of that happened here today.” I gestured to Oswald who was still filming. “You can even look at the tape if you want. Just because something bad happened before doesn't mean it will happen again. Don't you think we deserve a chance?”

“I was willing to give you a chance, Ian. I thought you could be a real leader at this school,” he said.

“That's what I'm trying to do,” I said. “Isn't this leadership?” I asked, gesturing to the crowd. “And, if you let us have our dance, I'll try my best to make sure it happens the way it's supposed to happen.”

Julia's suspension would be over by then. I'd ask her to help supervise. Maybe I'd even ask her if she wanted to come to the dance with...no, I wasn't ready for that—not yet. But there would be other dances.

Mr. Roberts didn't answer right away. He looked like he was thinking. That was a good thing.

“I'll make sure the dance works. You have my word on it,” I said reassuringly, almost pleading.

Slowly he nodded his head. “I guess you really don't leave me much choice,” Mr. Roberts said.

“You mean you'll let us have a dance?”

“We'll talk...after school. But, first things first.”

He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out an iPod! He put the buds in his ears, pushed Play and started to dance.

Eric Walters is one of Canada's most successful writers for young readers with more than fifty novels to his credit. He is the only three-time winner of both the Silver Birch and the Red Maple Awards of the Ontario Library Association and has won numerous other children's choice awards. He tours across North America and has spoken to over a million children. For more information on Eric Walters, or to arrange a visit to your school, please visit
www.ericwalters.net.