Thunder on the Plains (2 page)

“Did you finish that report?” Mom asked me.

“Yeah, it's done.”

“Good,” my stepfather said. He always seemed angry when he spoke to me. I think Mom said he was “stern,” not angry. He folded the newspaper and picked up his fork.

“We wouldn't want a repeat of the problems we had last month, would we?”

I didn't answer.

“Want some eggs and bacon?” Mom asked in a cheerful voice. She was always trying to smooth things over between Bill and me.

I nodded and reached for the pitcher of orange juice. I certainly wished things could
be like they used to be. My full-blooded Cheyenne father died in an accident at work two years ago. I'm still not over it. I don't think Mom is either. Really. But she tries to hide her sadness.

It was right after Dad died that my life began to fall apart. For some reason, things just didn't go right any more. School was a hassle. Home life was a hassle. I couldn't stay focused on any one thing. My mind was a mess. How could it be any other way? Dad and I were close.

But then Mom announced a year later that she was going to get married. This white guy named Bill from the bank where she worked asked her to. I couldn't believe it. I wasn't ready for a replacement father in my life. Especially someone as different from me and Mom as Bill is. Mom said he was good to her. She said he would make our lives a lot more stable.

This was way too much for a fourteen- year-old boy to handle. First my dad's gone. Then Mom replaces him with a
stranger. Pow! Pow! It hit me in the gut like a one-two punch.

Dad always said I was a pretty smart kid. So why had my grades started dropping? And why was the principal calling me into his office every other week? He'd said I was “acting out,” whatever that means.

“You need to eat before your food gets cold,” Mom said, putting down the plate in front of me. A smiley face made from two fried eggs and a curled strip of bacon looked up from the plate.

“Wathene, we need to leave in ten minutes,” Bill said to my mother.

The food she had cooked tasted good. As I ate, Mom worked my long black hair into a single braid down my back. I pretended not to like it, but secretly I did. It reminded me of when Dad was alive. Mom would braid his hair like this before he went to work.

After breakfast, the three of us got into Bill's car, a shiny new blue Buick. We took our regular route to my school. The busy streets of Los Angeles were crowded with
other cars headed to offices and schools. My school, the D. W. Griffith Middle School, was named after some old Hollywood director that I'd never heard of.

Sitting in back of the Buick gave me more time to think about the past. We had moved into Bill's house here in the San Fernando Valley when Mom and Bill got married. It was definitely a high-class house in a high- class neighborhood. Especially when you compared it to our old frame house on the east side of L.A.

Before Bill, we had lived in a mixed neighborhood of African American, Latino, and Native American families. Everyone lived in small homes crammed together. It was sort of like a big tossed salad. Our fancy new neighborhood seemed a lot more like a loaf of bread—white bread.

I dreaded going to school today. And it wasn't just because of the math test in third period. Or the quickly written history report. It was mainly because of Willy Phillips. Willy
was the blond-haired bully of Griffith Middle School. He had promised to clean my clock this week. But he wasn't talking about a timepiece. I knew he meant he was going to beat me up.

“Good luck on your math test, dear,” Mom said as I got out of the car in front of the school.

“And try to stay out of trouble, okay?” Bill added. “There's only a month and a half left of school. I know you can do it, sport.” He winked at me as the car pulled away. I hated being called “sport.”

And they didn't know about Willy.

By noon I was feeling better about the day. My math test had been easier than I expected. I only had to fake it on a few of the questions. There was a substitute teacher in language arts who showed us a film about William Shakespeare. And in social studies, the teacher told me my Civil War report looked “interesting.”

That afternoon I had science and computer lab, my two favorite subjects. So all I had to do was dodge Willy Phillips during lunch. Then I'd be home free.

I found Jesse in the lunchroom and sat down beside him. Jesse is my best friend. He's a Latino boy who likes a lot of the same things I do. We ate lunch together most days. After lunch we would go to science and computer lab together.

“Hey, Jesse, what's for lunch?” He had gotten a tray of cafeteria food. I could tell he was trying to figure out exactly which food group each item was from.

“Today is Monday, so I guess this must be last Wednesday's meatloaf disguised as lasagna,” he said, cutting into the food like a surgeon operating on a patient.

I opened my brown paper bag to see what my mother had packed for lunch.

“Boy, have I got a surprise for you,” Jesse said in a whisper. He looked around to see if anyone was watching.

“I think the coast is clear,” I told him, also whispering. “What are we whispering for?”

Jesse opened a notebook. He took out a piece of paper and slipped it to me.

“With my devilish mind and your computer wizardry, what sort of chaos can we create with this?” he asked.

I looked at the paper. It was a sheet of stationery from the principal's office. It had the school's name, address, and official
school seal at the top. The principal's name was printed at the bottom.

“Where did you get this?” I asked.

“I just lifted it from Mr. Rippleton's desk this morning when he wasn't looking.”

“What were you doing in the principal's office?” My eyes widened.

“Just clearing up a little dispute about who glued Mrs. Wright's locker shut last week,” Jesse said.

“Well, this really isn't much use without Mr. Rippleton's signature.”

“Which you have on the note he wrote when you almost got suspended last month.”

“Which I happen to have right here!”

I dug around in my backpack. I knew it was in there somewhere. By the time I found it, an idea had hatched in my mind. It was an idea that was perfect for computer lab. Where do these moments of brilliance come from? For some reason, I failed to see the trouble it could cause me.

That afternoon in computer lab I waited for just the right moment. It came while the
teacher was busy helping someone with a question. I placed the stationery on the lab's scanner and scanned it into the lab's computer. Then, when the teacher was busy putting a new cartridge in another printer, I scanned the principal's signature into the computer. The final step was to put both files on my flash drive. When this was done, I gave Jesse the thumbs-up sign. We were good to go.

“What's with the thumbs up, Daniel?” the teacher asked. He took me by surprise.

“Are you pretending to be the emperor of Rome? And now you're going to allow the gladiator to live?”

“No, Mr. Saunders.” I had to think fast. “Jesse and I had a little bet about who could finish this software problem first. I won.” I laughed nervously and glanced at Jesse.

“Oh, I see.” I don't think he really believed me. But another student asked a question just then and saved me. I sighed with great relief and held up the flash drive to show Jesse.

When school was out for the day, I had Jesse scout up ahead to see if there was any
sign of Willy. After peeking out the front doors, he signaled back that the coast was clear. I bolted for the school bus. My unpleasant meeting with Willy was postponed for at least another day.

I was what they call a “latchkey” kid. I always got home from school before Mom and Bill got home from work, so I had a key to let myself into the house. This gave me plenty of time to complete the day's mission.

I took the flash drive out of my backpack and put it in my computer. Then I copied the two files I'd scanned at school onto my hard drive. Next, I sat down to write the letter I'd been thinking about on the bus.

“Dear Parents and Teachers,” the letter began. “I am sorry to announce that school will be closed tomorrow, Wednesday, May 14, due to faulty electrical wiring that was just discovered. This problem must be taken care of as soon as possible so that no one gets hurt. I hope this isn't a problem on such short notice, but it don't really matter. We have to do it anyway.”

Then I merged the three documents—the letter, the stationery, and the signature—to create my final masterpiece. This is good, I thought, and emailed a copy to Jesse. I printed out fifty copies of the letter and stuffed them into my school backpack.

The mechanical voice in my computer said, “You've got mail.” It was from Jesse.

“You've outdone yourself this time,” his message said. “You should be in the hacker's hall of fame. Jesse :-)”

The next morning, Jesse and I secretly passed out the letter among the students. While I distracted the school secretary, Jesse put copies of the letter in the teachers' mailboxes. By noon, the whole school was buzzing with talk of getting a day off.

But, of course, this didn't last long. Just before the lunch bell, Mr. Rippleton came on the school speaker system and announced that school would be open as usual on Wednesday after all.

“I believe I know who the culprit is who started this rumor. He will be dealt
with speedily,” Mr. Rippleton ended the announcement. Uh-oh.

I was immediately summoned to the principal's office. Mr. Saunders, the computer teacher, was there, too. Mr. Rippleton was furious. He held a copy of letter tightly in his hand. He paced back and forth. He couldn't believe that one of his students could do such a thing.

“I hope this isn't a problem on such short notice, but it don't really matter,” he read out loud from the letter.

“In addition to everything else you've done wrong, Mr. Wind, your grammar stinks. It should read ‘but it
doesn't
really matter.'” The principal paced some more.

“You've outdone yourself this time, mister,” he continued. That sounded better when Jesse said it yesterday. “This is the act of a borderline criminal.”

I had to think fast. Again.

“But Mr. Rippleton,” I protested, “it was just a class assignment that got out of hand. I
didn't know it was going to get passed out all over school.”

“Is this true, Mr. Saunders?” the principal asked.

Mr. Saunders look puzzled. I jumped in just as the computer teacher was about to speak.

“You see, the assignment was to show that we knew how to use the lab's new scanner and scanning software,” I said, making up a story as I went along. “I took it one step further, for extra credit, to show that I'd learned our new graphics software, too. I was going to turn the assignment in to Mr. Saunders tomorrow when I have computer lab.”

I looked at Mr. Saunders, hoping he would buy it.

“Well, Mr. Saunders, are you buying any of this?”

The computer teacher studied the letter, then studied me. I sat still.

“Actually, Mr. Rippleton,” the teacher finally said, “this is the best piece of student work I've seen in a long time. It shows advanced computer skills along with critical
thinking skills. Daniel will receive an A+ on this assignment.”

The principal stared at my teacher for a long minute. Then he rolled his eyes back in his head.

“All right,” Rippleton said. I could tell he was disappointed that he wouldn't be able to punish me again.

“You've slipped through my fingers this time, young man. But remember, you're on my most wanted list. I'm watching you. Everyone back to class.” He stomped into his office and slammed the door.

“You owe me,” Mr. Saunders said before he left the office. “I'll let you know just how you're going to pay that debt.”

I breathed a huge sigh of relief and wiped my sweaty palms on the sides of my jeans. I followed Mr. Saunders out the door.

I didn't know how I was going to make it to the end of the week. It was only Tuesday.