The Fourth Stall Part II by Chris Rylander Page B

he’d finished yelling.
    â€œI’m sorry, sir, I just don’t know what I did wrong.”
    â€œYou don’t.”
    â€œNo.”
    He sighed and leaned back in his chair. He grabbed a folder from a drawer behind him and slapped it onto the desk. Then he leafed through it briefly before closing it again. He was making a big show and I knew it.
    â€œYou were caught trespassing in the kitchen,” he said, pounding the folder with his index finger to emphasize each word. “We’re not going to tolerate any funny business around here anymore. None.”
    â€œOh, that. Yeah. I wasn’t trespassing, I was doing research for—”
    â€œThe newspaper, right. This school doesn’t have a student-run newspaper, Mr. Barrett.”
    A little detail I wish I’d remembered before opening my mouth back in the kitchen. But I’d just assumed that the cooks wouldn’t have a clue either way.
    â€œSo?” he said.
    â€œSo,” I repeated back.
    His face reddened considerably. I almost regretted saying it for a second, but then I realized how hilarious his wrinkled face looked right then, all orange and shriveled like a dusty, old, popped basketball.
    â€œWhat were you doing back there?” he demanded.
    â€œI was just asking them about our school menu. It’s been so different lately.”
    â€œDon’t you like the food we serve?”
    â€œWell, yeah, I suppose,” I said, even though I hadn’t eaten a bite of school lunch in over four years. But if anyone should be concerned about the health value of school lunches, shouldn’t it be George?
    Then he dropped the bombshell.
    â€œI know you’re up to something, Mac. May I call you Mac?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou heard me.”
    He didn’t say anything else, letting his last few sentences sink in. I sat there and let them. And I didn’t like it. I didn’t like those words a single bit.
    â€œI’m going to find out what’s going on. I’ll be watching you closely. I don’t tolerate funny business in my school, as I said. Maybe you kids got to do whatever you wanted before, but now that I’m here, all of that will change. This school is more important than any of you realize, and nothing is going to get in the way of me cleaning it up, understand?”
    I wasn’t sure if he’d emphasized the word “business” on purpose or if my mind was just playing tricks on me. The effect was the same, regardless. My business was in danger from the worst source possible: the Administration. I could handle rival businesses, tough customers, rats, snitches, and general troublemakers. But the one thing I couldn’t have against me was the Administration. As dumb as the Suits usually were, they still held the power to shut me down for good.
    â€œYou hear me?” Dr. George practically screeched.
    â€œSure.”
    â€œOkay, then. I’m giving you an hour of detention for the next two days after school for your stunt in the cafeteria today. And just know that I’m going to find out what you’re up to. Understood?”
    I nodded. I was furious that this would cause me to miss a day of baseball tryouts, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good to argue.
    â€œThat’ll be all,” he said, and turned his chair so that he was facing his computer.
    I got up and somehow ended up back in class, though I don’t remember actually walking there. Other than it causing me to miss baseball tryouts, I didn’t really care at all about the detention; I’d just use that time to work on some of my current cases. But I was concerned about the fact that the Administration was now on my tail. It’d been hard enough to keep up with business anyways; now I had to worry about being cased by Suits. All I could do, though, was be more careful and hope that Dr. George really didn’t have a clue what was going on, that it had just been an