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I
REALLY DIDN'T THINK
my parents would force me to go to school on Monday. They knew I had been framed and believed I was innocent. I thought I would get some sympathy points for being victimized and publicly humiliated, but no such luck.

“You're going,” Dad informed me Sunday night.

“Everyone at school thinks I'm a party-crashing vandal with poor fashion sense!” I cried. “Haven't I been traumatized enough?”

“Only guilty people avoid public situations. You're not guilty. You're going.”

I appealed to Mom, but she and Dad had this annoying deal: when one of them laid down the law, the other had to support the decision, no matter how wrong, unfair or downright cruel it might be.

“You're going, but I'll give you a ride,” Mom said. She was taking her much-needed vacation all week. Her boss had called a few times because he was short staffed (since Bud was still recovering from his fender bender), but Mom wouldn't answer the phone. I tensed every time I heard it ring, not because of Mom's boss, but because I was hoping it would be Eli. He
knew what had happened—I was sure of it—and I was waiting for him to check on me. By the time I went to bed on Sunday night, I still hadn't heard from him.

I got up early on Monday and spent extra time making sure I looked presentable. I wanted to wipe away the grungy image of myself that most of the party guests had witnessed, so I wore a crisp white blouse and my favorite khakis.

Mom took her time driving me to school and let me linger in the car for a few minutes so I could avoid the morning hallway crowds and walk right into class. I didn't want to give anyone a chance to ask me about Saturday night. I didn't know what people had heard: was I just a rebellious prankster, like Trent, or a Tiffany wannabe desperately trying to gain attention for herself? I knew a jury of my peers had already sentenced me. I just didn't know the verdict.

I was aware that everyone had been talking about me because it became eerily quiet as soon as I walked into first period history. I slid into my desk just as the bell rang. Mr. Gildea took attendance while people whispered behind me.

“She spent the night in jail.”

“The Werners are suing her for destruction of property.”

“Not even Daddy can bail her out of this one.”

The last comment stung, but I pretended that I was too preoccupied with my fascinating notebook to hear it. Lan nudged me and smiled. I couldn't force a smile in return, so instead I just nodded.

Tiffany strode in a minute later. She handed Mr. Gildea a late pass and walked to her desk. She didn't look at me. She didn't look at anyone.

“Well, then, let's begin,” said Mr. Gildea. He was wearing
his orange-and-green tie. I prayed that he wouldn't start class with another debate. I had witnessed Tiffany's volcanic temper twice now, and I didn't want her to erupt again.

“I trust you have completed your essay revisions? Pass them forward, please.”

I felt my stomach tighten. Not only had I forgotten the revisions, I had left my original essay at home. I had nothing to turn in, and Mr. Gildea had a strict late policy. Even if I handed it in by lunchtime, I would lose points.

The rest of class went by in a boring blur. When the bell rang, I told Lan I'd see her later and waited in my seat. I wanted Tiffany to leave the room first so I could avoid her. Also, I needed to talk to Mr. Gildea about my paper.

After the room cleared out, I approached Mr. Gildea's desk.

“Yes, Miss Morgan?” He was writing in his lesson plan book and didn't look up.

“I have a question about my paper.”

Mr. Gildea set his pen down and looked at me. “You are referring to the one you didn't turn in this morning?”

“Um, yeah. That one.”

Mr. Gildea sat back in his chair. “I understand you had a rather hectic weekend,” he said. “I suppose I can give you an extension, provided, of course, that you turn in a complete revision. I'll deduct ten points, however. Sound fair?”

“Yes. Very fair. Thank you, Mr. Gildea.”

I was relieved that I had bought myself a little more time, but I knew I had to turn in something really good, and I was coming up blank on brilliant ideas.

Throughout the day I tried to avoid spending too much time in the hallways. I was always the last to leave class, which meant
I had to rush to my next class to make it on time. Still, I heard the loud whispers. Some people smiled at me while others glared.

I looked forward to lunch only because it meant that I would be surrounded by friends. I tried to sneak into the cafeteria through a rarely used side door, hoping I wouldn't attract a lot of attention, but I bumped into a chair, causing it to slide across the floor with a loud screech. I hurried to my table and sat down.

Eden was waiting for me, her pen poised. “You're my lead story for this week,” she said. “Start talking.”

I glanced to my right. “Do you know if Reva or Eli is here?” Once again, I was aware of the people looking in my direction.

“Reva wasn't in homeroom. Don't know about Eli.”

“Brady said Eli would be here today, but he was coming in late,” Lan said.

I was glad that Reva wasn't in school. My dad had mentioned that she was going to be questioned again. Maybe she was sitting in a holding cell, I thought hopefully.

I gave Eden my story while I picked at my lunch. I had no appetite.

“Just so you know, I can't mention Reva by name,” she said as I concluded my version of events.

“What? Why not?” Unless people knew who had really been behind Tiffany's Birthday Debacle, they would think it was me.

“It's a liability thing. I'll have to refer to her as ‘an unnamed junior.' Trust me, though. It'll get people talking. They'll know it was her within an hour.”

I thought about it and realized that people were much more likely to believe a rumor than something they read in the school paper.

“Have you spoken to Tiffany yet?” I asked.

“No. I tried calling her yesterday, but no luck. I'll track her down later today.”

Even when the truth was completely revealed, I knew Tiffany would still hate me. It didn't really matter, but I'd rather be hated for something I did do than for something I didn't.

The bell rang and I stood up. Before I could throw away my uneaten sandwich and carrot sticks, though, Principal Carter walked over to my table.

“Miss Morgan, I need you to come with me, please.” He held out one arm and motioned toward the side doors, away from the crowd. I stole one quick, panicked glance at Lan before going with Carter.

He said nothing as we walked through the hallways. I was worried—what was going on? Usually when someone was called down to the office they sent one of the vice principals or an office assistant to get them. Carter only came for the really serious stuff, like if someone was being busted for drugs.

When we arrived at the main office he asked me to take a seat near his secretary's desk. He went into his office and I sat next to a kid holding an ice pack to his nose and waited. A few minutes later, Principal Carter emerged from his office holding a stack of manila file folders. I started to stand, but he didn't look at me; instead, he walked down the administrative hallway and into one of the conference rooms. I could hear voices coming from the room. Someone was shouting.

“Some meeting,” the kid next to me said as he rearranged his ice pack. “They've been yelling like that for half an hour.”

I didn't know what was going on, but I knew it had to do with the party. I was about to ask the secretary how long she thought I would be waiting when the conference-room door flew open.

“I cannot
believe
you are doing this to me!” a girl shrieked.

I knew that voice.

It was Reva's voice.

A second later she came storming out of the room. Her mascara ran down her face in jagged streaks and she wiped at her nose with the back of her hand. When she saw me, she stopped.

“You won, okay? You won.
Happy?”

I was shocked by the venom in her voice. The guy next to me sat up straight and looked around like he was trying to find the nearest exit.

“What did I win?” I asked. It just slipped out, and it was obviously the wrong thing to say, because Reva glared at me and opened her mouth like she was going to start screaming. Before she could, though, an older woman came out of the room.

“Reva? Honey? Let's go.” I guessed that the woman, who was short and wore her silver hair in a tiny bun, was her grandmother. I watched Reva as she furiously shoved the school's front doors with both hands, causing them to rattle.

Bloody Nose Guy was watching, too. “Whoa,” he said. “Whatever you won, you might want to give it back.”

Principal Carter called me in to the conference room and I got up, a little shaky and very uncertain about what was happening. There was quite a crowd seated around the long oval
table in the center of the room. One of the vice principals sat next to George, who was wearing his police uniform. I recognized Mr. Werner from the party. He was dressed in a dark suit and sat next to the principal. Another man, also dressed in a suit and tie, sat to his left. I wondered if he was the Werners' lawyer. At the end of the table sat my parents. Dad wasn't in uniform; instead, he was wearing jeans and a wrinkled plaid shirt. I took a seat next to him and he squeezed my shoulder.

“Now, then,” Principal Carter began. He opened one of the manila folders in front of him. “Kate. We have some things we need to clear up and we're hoping you can answer some questions for us.”

“Okay,” I said, glancing at Mom. She smiled, but it was strained.

“You were at Tiffany Werner's birthday party to help your mother, is that correct?”

“Yes.” I felt like I was on trial. Mr. Werner's lawyer was jotting notes on a yellow pad of paper.

“When, exactly, did you first see Reva Abbott?”

I recited my story once again. Principal Carter wrote things down in his folder. When I finished speaking, the lawyer addressed me.

“Is it true, Miss Morgan, that you were not invited to the party?”

“Just a minute,” Dad said. He sounded mad. “We already established that it was not my daughter who painted that wall. How is this question at all relevant?”

Now it really did feel like I was on trial and Dad was serving as my attorney.

“We still have not determined who vandalized Miss Werner's car,” the lawyer said smoothly. He turned to me and waited.

“Actually, I
was
invited to the party,” I said, looking the lawyer in the eyes. “I chose not to go after Tiffany made a racist comment about my best friend, who is Vietnamese.”

“My daughter would never do such a thing!” Mr. Werner exploded.

Principal Carter opened another folder. “Actually, Tiffany's history teacher filled out a report. We tried to contact you about it last week, but you didn't return our calls.”

“I never touched Tiffany's car,” I said. “I never even saw it.”

There was no way I was going to mention Brady and Lan. The lawyer asked me more questions about what I saw and when I saw it, but I didn't actually witness anything, so I couldn't add much to what I had already told them. After a few minutes, Principal Carter closed his folder.

“I think we're done, then,” he said. “Thank you for coming in, Kate.”

“Now wait just a minute!” Mr. Werner yelled. “Someone is responsible! Someone is going to pay for the detailing on my daughter's car!”

“Yes, someone is responsible,” George said. “It's just not Kate.”

“Someone also owes Kate an apology,” Mom pointed out. She stared hard at the Werners. Mr. Werner looked away while Mrs. Werner fidgeted with her diamond tennis bracelet.

Their lawyer shuffled some papers. “Of course we regret that this situation occurred,” he said. “It has been difficult for everyone involved.”

“That's not an apology,” Dad said.

Mom put her hand on his arm. “Don't bother. We can't ask the Werners to show us a shred of decency. They are clearly unfamiliar with the concept.”

The Werners looked furious but said nothing. My parents stood and so did I. Principal Carter walked out with us. He shook my parents' hands in the hallway.

“Thank you again for coming in.” He turned to his secretary. “I need to know where I can find Tiffany Werner,” he said. She nodded and began typing on her computer. “And please give Miss Morgan a late pass to class,” he added.

After I got my pass I walked with my parents to the lobby. “I don't really understand what just happened in there,” I said.

Dad smiled. “What happened is that you have been cleared of all charges.”

He explained that the police looked at the footage taken by the camera crew. I was on there, of course, in all my bedraggled glory. The tapes were time stamped and showed that I was in the kitchen throughout the evening. I was even visible peeking out at the crowd as everyone sang the birthday song, which would have made it impossible for me to paint the wall.

“More important is what the tapes didn't show,” Dad said. He told me that the only time Reva was caught on camera was after the graffiti had been discovered. They couldn't find any trace of her inside the country club. She had denied everything, of course, but panicked when her grandmother, convinced of her granddaughter's innocence, agreed to let the police search Reva's car.

“George found evidence in the car. She had paint and pieces of the stencil.”

“Stencil?” I asked.

“It's pretty amazing, really. There are four segments. She pieced them together like a puzzle, taped it to the wall and spray-painted it.”

Reva still wasn't willing to take the blame, though. She claimed that the stencil belonged to Eli and that he had put it in her car without her knowledge.