14
Avery Dixon, dressed in a Batman tee-shirt and dirty shorts that displayed his scabby knees,
stood in front of Mrs. Sigsby’s desk, looking at her with frightened eyes. Small to begin with
and now flanked by Winona and Tony, he didn’t look ten; he looked barely old enough for first
grade.
Mrs. Sigsby offered him a thin smile. “I should have gotten to you much sooner, Mr. Dixon.
I must be slipping.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Avery whispered.
“So you agree? You think I’m slipping?”
“No, ma’am!” Avery’s tongue flicked out and wet his lips.
No nose-pulling, though, not
today.
Mrs. Sigsby leaned forward, hands clasped. “If I have been, the slippage is over now.
Changes will be made. But first it’s important . . .
imperative
. . .
that we bring Luke back
home.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She nodded. “We agree, and that’s good. A good start. So where did he go?”
“I don’t know, ma’am.”
“I think you do. You and Steven Whipple were filling in the hole he escaped through. Which
was stupid. You should have left it alone.”
“We thought a woodchuck made it, ma’am.”
“Nonsense. You know exactly who made it. Your friend Luke. Now.” She spread her hands
on her desk and smiled at him. “He’s a smart boy and smart boys don’t just plunge off into the
woods. Going under the fence might have been his idea, but he needed Alvorson to give him
the lay of the land on the other side of it. She gave you the directions piece by piece, every time
you yanked on your nose. Beamed it right into your talented little head, didn’t she? Later on,
you gave it to Ellis. There’s no point in denying it, Mr. Dixon, I’ve
seen the video of your
conversation. It is—if you don’t mind a silly old lady making a joke—as plain as the nose on
your face. I should have realized it sooner.”
And Trevor, she thought. He saw it, too, and also should have seen what was going on. If
there’s a comprehensive debriefing when this is over, how blind we will look.
“Now tell me where he went.”
“I really don’t know.”
“You’re shifting your eyes around, Mr. Dixon. That’s what liars do. Look straight at me.
Otherwise, Tony is going to twist your arm behind your back, and that will hurt.”
She nodded at Tony. He grabbed one of Avery’s thin wrists.
Avery looked straight at her. It was hard, because
her face was thin and scary, a mean
teacher’s face that said
tell me everything
, but he did it. Tears began to well up and roll down his
cheeks. He had always been a crier; his two older sisters had called him Little Crybaby Cry, and
in the schoolyard at recess he had been anybody’s punching bag.
The playground here was
better. He missed his mother and father, missed them
bad
, but at least he had friends. Harry
had pushed him down, but then had been a friend. At least until he died. Until they killed him
with one of their stupid tests. Sha and Helen were gone, but the new girl, Frieda, was nice to
him, and had let him win at HORSE. Only once, but still. And Luke. He was the best of all.
The best friend Avery had ever had.
“Where did Alvorson tell him to go, Mr. Dixon? What was the plan?”
“I don’t know.”
Mrs. Sigsby nodded to Tony, who twisted Avery’s arm behind his back and hoisted his wrist
almost to his shoulderblade. The pain was incredible. Avery screamed.
“Where did he go? What was the plan?”
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