Do Not Pass Go by Kirkpatrick Hill Page A

feel better tomorrow, or It could be worse.
    In the school hallway he felt so unprotected that he took all his books out of his locker, instead of just the one he needed for first period. It was as if the big stack of books could make a shield for him.
    He walked to Mr. Hodges’s class to turn in his homework. He didn’t know if people were looking athim funny or not because he didn’t look at anyone, just looked straight ahead and tried not to notice anything. He felt angry at every kid in the hall, angry because nothing ever went wrong for any of them, angry because they had such golden lives, angry because they didn’t even know anything about life, angry because they had stupid laughs and screechy, horrible voices.
    He’d imagined a hundred times what Mr. Hodges would say to him, or what kind of look he’d give him. Mr. Hodges knew Dad because he always took his car into Dan’s garage. Mr. Hodges’s dad and Dan had been mechanics together, long ago. Deet was proud that Mr. Hodges’s dad had been a mechanic too, for some reason, like it gave them something in common. And Dad thought Mr. Hodges was a great guy, especially because Mr. Hodges had bragged about Deet to him, had told Dad that Deet should plan on college when he graduated from high school.
    But maybe Mr. Hodges would be embarrassed and wouldn’t say anything about Dad, or maybe he wouldn’t even have seen the paper.
    Mr. Hodges looked up when Deet laid his homework in the basket on his desk. His eyes squinted in sympathy.
    â€œI saw the paper,” he said. “Charley.”
    Deet clenched his jaw tighter. A lump had leaped into this throat as soon as Mr. Hodges spoke.
    â€œHang in there,” said Mr. Hodges. “Hang in there. Charley’s not the only one ever got in this kind of trouble, for what that’s worth.” Mr. Hodges searched Deet’s face. He leaned forward on his desk. “I used to work there. In the jail. Teaching English. Before they cut all the education classes. It’s not as bad as you might think.”
    Deet looked at the desk. He didn’t know what to say.
    Mr. Hodges waved his hand in a helpless way.
    â€œI don’t mean that the experience isn’t so bad. I just mean that jail isn’t anything like it is in the movies. It’s more like …”
    Mr. Hodges looked at the ceiling and the windows, trying to find the right word.
    â€œBoot camp,” he said suddenly. “Of course, you’ve never been in the army, so that wouldn’t mean much toyou. It’s not really like boot camp,” he said, seeming to be in despair at trying to describe it, “but anyway, it’s not like those stupid jail movies you see. At least not in a little town like this. We haven’t got a big enough population to have a lot of bad guys in our jail. Mostly just penny-ante stuff, you know.”
    He looked at Deet again to see if he’d made any sense. Deet swallowed, wanting not to talk because of the lump.
    â€œWell, I’ll shut up about it,” said Mr. Hodges. “Just come and see me if you get down.”
    Deet nodded sadly at Mr. Hodges and left the room. He felt ashamed. Mr. Hodges thought he was a nicer person than he really was. Mr. Hodges thought Deet was only worried about Dad in jail. He was glad Mr. Hodges hadn’t known how selfish Deet’s first thoughts were, how embarrassed he was for himself. And Mr. Hodges was as upset for Deet, and for Dad, as he could be. Mr. Hodges was hurting for them.
    That was something.
    He went to sit in his usual seat in the back row of homeroom. He dreaded homeroom more than anything.He knew how it would be. Someone in the front would glance back at him, and they’d bend over to whisper in their neighbor’s ear.
    Before he’d opened his book to read, Nelly sat down next to Deet, tilted back his chair against the wall, and folded his arms across his chest. A stern new look