Hit and Run by Norah McClintock Page A

long that kids started to fidget and whisper. What was going on? Was the new teacher zoning out on us?
    Finally he turned and walked to the front of the class. He opened a file folder, took out some paper, and started to lecture us about the settlement of Canada’s west. It wasabout as exciting as watching wheat grow. There were no shootouts, no Indian wars, no cattlemen-versus-farmers conflicts, no Wyatt Earp or Billy the Kid. There were hardly even any guns. I was thinking about how best to position myself and my book so that I could take a nap when someone knocked on the classroom door.
    Riel paused in mid-sentence. He crossed to the door and opened it. He stepped out into the hall for a moment. When he came back into the room, he beckoned to me. I glanced at Vin as I made my way to the front of the room.
    â€œYou’re wanted in the office,” Riel said.
    Mr. Gianneris was standing in the hall. I tried smiling at him—he’d given me a break—but he didn’t smile back.
    â€œCome on, Mike,” he said.
    I looked at Riel, who just shook his head.
    Mr. Gianneris didn’t say a word as he led me down the hall and down the stairs. He showed me into Ms. Rather’s office. She wasn’t alone. There were two cops with her.
    â€œThese police officers want to talk to you, Mike,” she said.
    â€œWhat about?”
    â€œI’m Constable Carlson,” the older one said. “And this is Constable Torelli. Have a seat, Mike.”
    He waved me into a chair and then sat down opposite me. Constable Torelli stood to one side of me. He had a notebook open and was writing in it already, even though I hadn’t said anything yet. Ms. Rather stood just inside the closed door, watching and listening.
    I waited for an answer to my question.
    â€œWhat grade are you in, Mike?” Constable Carlson asked.
    I told him.
    â€œYou a good student?”
    I shrugged.
    â€œWhat’s this about?” I asked.
    â€œWhat’s your favorite subject, Mike?” Constable Carlson asked.
    Boy, I had to think about that one. Favorite and subject weren’t two words I generally thought of in the same sentence.
    â€œMusic, I guess.”
    â€œYou play an instrument?” He sounded like he really wanted to know, but I knew that couldn’t be right. He hadn’t come here to discuss my grades or interests.
    â€œSax.”
    Constable Carlson smiled. “You can get a nice sound out of a sax. You play in the school band?”
    I shook my head. “But I was thinking of trying out this year,” I said. It was true. Auditions were the week after next. I was pretty sure I’d have a shot at it.
    â€œThat’s good,” Constable Carlson said. “We want to ask you a few questions, Mike, about something that happened last night. A robbery. You don’t have to make a statement if you don’t want to. But if you do decide to answer our questions, anything you say can be used as evidence. Do you understand, Mike?”
    They wanted to question me about a robbery? Jeez.Stay calm, I told myself. Stay calm.
    â€œWe’ve asked your principal to call your uncle. He’s your guardian, isn’t that right?”
    I nodded.
    â€œYou have the right to talk to a lawyer and to your uncle before you answer any questions, Mike. Do you understand that?”
    I said I did. I noticed that Constable Torelli seemed to be writing all of this down in his notebook.
    â€œDo you want to wait for your uncle, Mike? You can also choose to have Ms. Rather act in the place of your uncle, if you want. That way we can just clear this matter up right now. Would that be okay, Mike?”
    I looked at Ms. Rather.
    â€œIt’s up to you, Michael,” she said.
    â€œWhat do you want to know?” I asked.
    â€œYou want to tell me where you were last night, Mike?”
    Stay calm, stay calm.
    â€œLast night?”
    â€œYeah. What did you do last night,