Force Out (15 page)

“Did you ace the science test?” Leah's eyes widened.

“I might have. I don't think Mr. Kratz will have the grades posted until this afternoon.”

“Oh boy, then he turns into the tooth fairy, right?” Leah's giggle made them both laugh. “What's your wish?”

Joey just looked at her and shrugged. “I'll think of something.”

“That test buried me,” Leah said. “I can't even imagine acing it.”

Joey felt his back go straight. “Like I said, I get pretty wrapped up in the whole finals thing.”

“But you're going to the falls after, right?”

Joey thought about the science test postings and Mr. Kratz. If he aced the test, he'd want to cash in on that right away. “I might be a little late, but, yeah, I'll be there.”

Leah touched his arm. “Nice.”

Zach gave him a look and they went into the gym together.

The test began.

Joey raced through it, computing problems like a calculator. When he looked up, everyone around him was bent over his or her desk, lost in concentration. He thought about checking his work over, but the science test results were calling to him. He delivered the test to a proctor in front and buzzed out of there, riding home like the wind.

He turned on the computer in the kitchen and tapped his foot while it booted up. He found the school website, then Mr. Kratz's page. The closer he got to it, the more certain he was that acing the test would be his salvation. All his problems might already be gone. His heart thumped against his ribs as he scrolled down the list, his eyes darting back and forth between the name and score columns until he found Joseph Riordon.

Joey took a breath, and held it.

His eyes went back and forth between his name and his score; five times he read it over, looking for the mistake.

99.5.

That was it, no mistake. There had been two hundred questions on the test. Joey got one wrong, and he bet he knew which one. One hundred twelve.

“But it wasn't wrong.”

Pork Chop meowed and licked a paw from his perch on the kitchen table. Both answers were correct.

“Both were right! He
owes
me that wish!”

His rage echoed through the empty house. Pork Chop tumbled onto the floor and scooted down the hall. Joey clenched his hands until they sweat. His plan was ruined.

He yanked the cell phone from his backpack and powered it up. With trembling fingers, he dialed the school number. The secretary answered.

“Yes, this is Joey Riordon. Can I please speak to Mr. Kratz? Is he there, do you know?”

“Oh, hi, Joey. It's Mrs. Serandon. He actually went home for lunch, but I know he'll be back because they're cleaning out the lab. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Uhh, do you have a home number for him or a cell phone?”

Mrs. Serandon went quiet for a moment. “I guess I can give you his home phone. I don't think he has a cell phone.”

Joey rolled his eyes and took down the number, then thanked the secretary and hung up. He dialed Mr. Kratz's number and let it ring ten times before he hung up.

“Who doesn't have an answering machine?”

He sighed and went upstairs to change into his bathing suit. He promised Leah he'd be at the falls, and after all his slow and spotty replies to her texts, he figured he better make good on that promise anyway. On his way out the door, he threw a couple slices of bologna and a piece of cheese between two pieces of white bread, gobbling it down with a glass of milk before stuffing a towel into his backpack and getting on his bike.

He hadn't even gotten to the end of his driveway before his phone rang. He stopped and looked, an unlisted number. Joey opened it.

“Hello?”

“Yes, you just called my home phone.” The voice was low and rough and angry. “Who is this?”

Joey choked. “This is Joey. Joey Riordon.”

“Oh,” the gruff voice softened, but only a bit, “Joey. It's Mr. Kratz. Why are you calling me at home?”

Joey got off his bike, lowered the kickstand, and cleared his throat with a squeak. “Oh, hi, Mr. Kratz. I was just calling about the final exam.”

“You did very well.” Mr. Kratz's flattened voice over the phone had less personality than Mr. Kratz in person, which was saying something.

Silence hung.

“Is that all?” the teacher asked.

“I, um, I wanted to ask you . . .” Joey winced. He knew from both his parents that something really important needed to be delivered in person.
That's
how you had the best chance of getting what you wanted. “Could I talk to you in person, Mr. Kratz? There's something I need to tell you.”

“And you can't tell me over the phone?”

Sunlight shone down through the big trees in the front lawn, spotting the driveway as well as Joey's arm. “I better not.”

Mr. Kratz's lungs filled and emptied like two big air tanks. “I'm on my way into school. You can meet me at the lab.”

“Okay, thanks, Mr. Kratz.”

“Yup.” The phone went dead.

Joey paced the driveway, tugging on his own hair. “What am I doing? What am I doing?”

Pork Chop peeked around the closest tree and studied him with contempt before disappearing again. Joey walked in small circles, breathing hard, then grabbed his bike and started to ride. He was going to take this thing head-on. He had more similarities with his mother than just his looks. He felt a crazed purpose. With baseball back on track and everything going his way, he needed to resolve the situation with Mr. Kratz—and his performance on the test merited that. He
did
ace that test. He wanted Mr. Kratz to know it, and then he wanted him to give Joey his wish, a pass on clamping his fuel line.

The closer he got to the school, though, the more he thought about how much Mr. Kratz loved that lunatic dog, Daisy. That might be the real rub. Could Mr. Kratz get over him feeding the dog some Valium?

“A deal's a deal,” he said aloud to himself. “I aced that test, he owes me a wish.”

He rode his bike straight into the rack and hopped off. He didn't see Mr. Kratz's truck in the teacher's lot, but he might be behind the building, back by the lab.

Joey swung open the front doors to the school and marched in, heading straight for the lab. His footsteps echoed off the empty lockers. The musty smell of books mixed with floor cleaner. He could see the lab, and into it through a long rectangular window in the door. He grabbed the handle, but the door was locked. It rattled under his effort, and then he sensed someone behind him.

The end of the long, dark hallway he'd come down was filled with bright light from the front of the school. An enormous figure filled that bright spot and moved slowly toward him, shuffling and wheezing as he came. When he got close enough so that Joey could see his eyes beneath the shadow of the floppy hat, he also saw the beads of sweat crawling down his nose. The effort it took the big man to walk almost seemed to cause a limp.

Without even a look at Joey, the huge teacher jingled his keys and rammed one into the lock. He swung open the door and the smell of chemicals too numerous to identify assaulted Joey's nose. He gave a little cough and followed Mr. Kratz in without being asked. Mr. Kratz snapped on the lights and they flickered to life. In one hand, Mr. Kratz had several folders of paperwork. He dropped them on his desk like a gunshot, then sat down behind it with one final wheeze and the creak of metal. He moved a suspender aside and took a blue bandanna from the front pocket of his flannel shirt, removed his felt hat, exposing a bald dome, then wiped his brow before replacing it.

Joey stood like a man condemned to hang.

“Well?” Mr. Kratz stuffed the bandanna back into the other pocket, then folded his hands and leaned his elbows onto the desk. His dark, little, close-set eyes shone up at Joey like jewels rising above the forest of his black curly beard.

“I'm waiting.”

Joey wondered why on earth he was standing there, but since he was there, he decided to plunge ahead.

“I think I aced it.”

Mr. Kratz leaned back and chuckled. The pink borders of his mouth appeared in the midst of the dark beard, and his yellow-brown teeth flashed like jagged broken beer bottles.

“Aced what?”

Joey knew that Mr. Kratz knew. “Your final. I think you made a mistake.”

Mr. Kratz took out his tiny glasses and planted them on his face. He dug through one of the folders he'd plopped down on his desk and extracted one of the tests. He flipped through it, slapped it down, and punched a spot on the page with a thick finger.

“Number one hundred twelve. Look. It's wrong.”

“Mr. Kratz, my mom said you think I'm a good student, one of your best.” Joey looked at him hopefully. “So . . . this test is really important to me. I wanted to show you that I was the kind of kid—I don't know—that you'd help out, because you saw how serious a student I am.”

“My teaching is what helps students out,” Mr. Kratz said. “They either benefit from it, or they don't. That's each individual's choice.”

“I mean, everyone worries about your test all year long, and I felt like I had it all down, every bit of it.”

Mr. Kratz just stared. Up over the tops of his little round glasses.

“Both these answers are right.” When Joey finished speaking, the lab was so quiet he could hear the small drip of water from a sink by the back wall.

“You asked me about this during the test.” Mr. Kratz grinned. “I told you then, one answer is better than the other.”

“But dehydration synthesis
is
removing water to combine molecules.” Joey felt his face flush.

“But what do we
call
it?” Mr. Kratz kept smiling, like the whole thing was one big joke. “You just said it right then. It's
dehydration synthesis
. That's the best answer. You got it wrong, Joey. I'm sorry. I appreciate your effort and your attempt to ace the test. No one has come this close, but you
didn't
do it and I
won't
give you a one hundred because you
didn't
earn it.”

Joey felt his tear ducts working overtime, but he sniffed and tried to choke back any sign of weakness. He didn't care about the one hundred, but he wondered if he gave up arguing for that, if Mr. Kratz would feel bad enough for him to grant the wish.

It would be risky.

If he stayed quiet, his mom might never put two and two together. The case might go unsolved. If he blabbed, and Mr. Kratz
didn't
have any sympathy, his goose was cooked.

“Is that all?” Mr. Kratz stared at him. “I have work to do.”

He decided to test the waters. “Mr. Kratz, since I'm so close, what would you think about that wish?”

“What wish?” Mr. Kratz's furry eyebrows dipped into a
V
above his nose.

“The tooth fairy thing? Remember, when you told us at the beginning of the year that you'd grant a wish to anyone who aced it.”

The teacher shook his head and frowned. “You didn't ace it, Joey. Have a good summer.”

“I thought so.” Joey spoke quietly and turned to go.

As he grasped the handle of the lab door, he took his time opening and closing it, hoping against hope that Mr. Kratz would change his mind and call him back.

He didn't.

Joey got on his bike and rode for the falls. As the wind whipped past his face and the sunshine warmed his back, he imagined he was riding away from his problems, putting distance between himself and Mr. Kratz and leaving it all behind. He'd never see the teacher again, unless his mother broke the case.

His mother—he was thinking about her when he wheeled into the park and saw a patrol car right next to the picnic area. Joey rode up over the curb and around the pavilion, heading toward the grassy spot beside the swimming hole. Sure enough, standing there in her dark blue uniform was Joey's mom. Just beyond her, wearing bathing suits and sitting on their towels were Leah and her three usual friends. His mom was talking to someone else, though, just out of earshot of the girls.

Joey put his bike in the rack and hurried across the grass. His mom had her back to him, but as he got closer, he could clearly see Zach's face, white as snow. His eyes were wide as he shook his head at Joey's mom, denying something.

Zach looked scared to death.

“Hey, Mom. What are you doing here?” Joey recalled his mom's words about going to her sources, and he had to believe that's what this was all about—her Mr. Kratz investigation.

“Joey.” His mom wore her serious cop face with eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. “Zach and I were having a talk.”

Joey frowned at her.

“And I was just leaving. You boys have fun.” She cast a doubtful look at the four girls but said nothing about them.

Joey watched her go, gun swinging on her hip, then turned to Zach. Zach spoke in a low tone. “Don't worry. I got everything covered.”

“What do you mean, ‘everything'?” Joey whispered.

“Come on.” Zach angled his head toward the girls. “We can talk about it later.”

“No, Zach.” Joey grabbed Zach's arm and kept his voice low. “Tell me. What happened?”

“It's fine. She wanted to know if I knew anyone who talked about doing something bad to Kratz.”

There was something about Zach's face that made Joey's stomach heavy. “And what did you say?”

Zach glanced over at the girls, who were looking curiously at them. He kept his voice low, too. “Bro, it's like she had me under a hot light. I don't know, maybe it was the sun. I started to sweat. She's tough.”

“Tell me about it. What did you
say
?” Joey realized his grip had tightened so much on Zach's arm that his own fingers went white.