Free Cry of the Sea by D. G. Driver Page B

Slater
spoke calmly into the phone. “Mr. Sawfeather, it is important that
your daughter be at school. She has missed several days this year
because of joining you with your work .” She said “work” like
he was having me sort his drug paraphernalia before taking it out
on the street to sell from his trunk.
    I was so glad Dad didn’t see how she rolled
her eyes. He’d have come undone. I was pretty close to it myself,
but I was afraid she’d shoot poison barbs from her hair at me.
    I couldn’t hear my dad on the other line, but
I got the gist of what he said when Mrs. Slater replied, “Yes, I’m
sure your work is very important, to you , but school is more important for Juniper.”
    “More important than saving the entire West
Coast from being destroyed?” I asked.
    She shushed me. Like I was a three-year-old.
She put her finger to her mouth and went “Shh!” Into the phone she
continued her ridiculousness, “I will allow her to make up the work
she missed this morning, but not in the future.”
    “I wouldn’t have missed fourth period if you
hadn’t made me stay in here.”
    She pinched up those tiny eyebrows and then
turned her back to me. “This is the last time your missions can
take priority over her studies.”
    I know my dad didn’t cuss her out on the
phone, but I know he wanted to. I wanted to. The restraint I felt
was intense. So were the canker sores I was creating by biting the
insides of my lips to keep them shut.
    However, when the bell rang for lunch and I
was still sitting there in the hard chair in her cramped office
usually saved for the behavioral bottom feeders of the school, I
muttered a small four-letter word.
    I was now late meeting Haley and getting to
the Student Council presentation. The only reason I showed up at
school at all, thank you very much.
    The Mistress of Detention spun around, hung
up the phone, and glared at me. She was about to condemn me to a
lifetime of after school study because of my foul mouth. I saw her
hand reaching for that dreaded pad of yellow papers.
    Except my phone rang. Haley calling,
wondering where the heck I was. And then that got
confiscated because we’re not supposed to have our phones at
school. Well, truth be told, everyone has a phone. Everyone. We
just aren’t supposed to use them at school. So, we use them
under stealth in the bathrooms between classes and at lunchtime.
And that’s never really been a problem.
    Until now.
    After robbing me of my ability to communicate
and of my patience, the Office Nazis let me go. I ran through the
building to meet Haley, breaking yet another rule: no running
through the school. Oddly, I got away with the first actual rule
that I broke on purpose.
    The Student Council meets in an office near
the cafeteria. Haley stood in the hallway outside the room, cell
phone in hand, and started shouting at me as soon as she saw me
dodging people with trays of bean burritos and cheesy nachos to get
to her.
    “Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer
your phone? They’re waiting for us!” Then, noting my oversized boy
clothes, “And what are you wearing?”
    “I know,” I said, breathing hard. “I’ll
explain later. You look really cute though.”
    And she did. Haley had on this really neat
combination of pale green and brown. Khaki pants, green turtleneck,
with a chocolate brown knit poncho over it. I really liked it, even
though I would never have thought of putting those two colors
together because I would look like an Andes mint. She even had her
hair down and curled, instead of up in her usual ponytail.
    She smiled at the compliment, and before the
smile could fade, I grabbed her hand, took in one more big breath
and opened the door to the tiny classroom usually reserved for
tutoring or small group lessons. The four members of Student
Council raised their heads to us as we burst into the room. I could
see that each of them was about to say something about how it was
too late and lunch was nearly over.