Tagged by Eric Walters Page B

illegal?” she asked.
    â€œProbably. Will you do it?”
    â€œOf course—I’m just confirming.”
    â€œAnd can you also gather all our stuff from here too and put it in my locker?”
    I turned and left the classroom.
    â€œI thought you were getting your things,” one of the officers said.
    â€œI got somebody else to do it.”
    â€œYou might want to get somebody else to clear out his locker,” he suggested. “We can’t go in there without a warrant, and that won’t be coming until after we question him—assuming we get information that would justify a search.”
    â€œMy client—I mean, my friend has nothing to hide. Do you?”
    Oswald shook his head.
    â€œHe’s innocent.”
    â€œLawyer’s kid,” the officer said.

Chapter Fourteen
    We sat silently in Mr. Roberts’ office. Why was it taking my mother so long? But really, what was she going to do? There was the evidence, right on Oswald’s hands. I’d seen enough episodes of CSI to know the police could match the paint on his hands with the paint on the billboard even without the cans of spray paint or his clothing. With or without my mother, with or without the evidence, he was caught red-handed.
    â€œI was just wondering,” I said. “Why did you come for the two of us?”
    â€œThe mayor suggested your names.”
    â€œBut how would he know about us?”
    â€œApparently he had somebody checking out Facebook sites for students at your school and found out that you two had been involved in a couple of things—a protest against school uniforms and something about an Internet campaign against Frankie’s Restaurants.”
    I shook my head. It was bad enough to be Internet-creeped by your mother, but by the mayor and his henchmen? That was so wrong.
    There was a knock on the door. Before anybody could react, it opened and Julia walked in. What was she doing here?
    â€œHi, Mr. Roberts. Sorry—I didn’t know you were with people. I just wanted to say hello.” She held up her hand to wave. It was covered in paint! Somehow, in moving the pack, its contents had gotten all over her hand.
    The officers saw it too and got to their feet.
    â€œAnd there are some other people who just wanted to say hello,” she said.
    Julia opened the door wide. Standing there outside Mr. Roberts’ door was a line of kids. And even from where I sat, I could see that they all had paint on their hands.
    The officers walked out into the main office, and we followed. The line of students extended out of that office and into the hall. We walked farther out. The line went down the entire hall and disappeared around the corner. It wasn’t just a few students or even one or two classes. It looked like it was all of them, and everybody had paint on one or two hands. Then I noticed it wasn’t just the students, but some of the teachers too. Mr. Singh was standing there, his hands as red as his turban. And there was Mrs. Johnson, and two of the gym teachers, and what looked like all of the cafeteria ladies.
    â€œHow did you do this?” I hissed at Julia.
    â€œI told them it was for Oswald, that he was in trouble, and everybody just volunteered. Do you know anybody who doesn’t like Oswald?”
    â€œNot a soul…except for maybe the mayor.” I paused. “You, Julia, are amazing.”
    â€œOf course I am, and you two jerks should have told me what you were doing.”
    â€œIn my defense, I just found out yesterday—or really, in the middle of the night. Wait…defense.” I ran up to the two officers. “I’m not sure if I can get a lawyer for everybody, but I assume that if you’re going to interview Oswald, you’ll have to interview everybody.”
    The officer stared at me. Then he broke into a smile and started to laugh. Not what I’d expected.
    Then I heard a bellow. It was Mayor Dumfrey. He must