The Betrayal of Natalie Hargrove
The Betrayal of Natalie Hargrove
“With an aching jaw and a sinking feeling in my stomach, I parked in my usual spot under the leaning Palmetto. I got out of the car and had to follow suit by leaning on the driver’s door for support. Sweat poured down the back of my neck. How was I going to make it inside?
Suddenly, I got a little extra push from Ms. Cafiero, my mustache-sprouting eight-period algebra teacher who practically hauled me toward the front steps by the earlobe.
“Wait, I never meant—” I started to confess.
“Save it,” ...she interrupted, grabbing the kid in the car next door by the earlobe too and shoving us both in the direction of the auditorium.
“Do not pass go,” Ms. Caf commanded. “Do not collect two hundred dollars. Go to the assembly. Go directly to the assembly.”
“But I have shop class,” the kid beside me whined.
“Not today, you don’t,” Caf snapped. “A fellow student loses his life in a freak accident. I think your model airplane can wait.”
A freak accident. That’s what the school was calling it.MoreLess
Suddenly, I got a little extra push from Ms. Cafiero, my mustache-sprouting eight-period algebra teacher who practically hauled me toward the front steps by the earlobe.
“Wait, I never meant—” I started to confess.
“Save it,” ...she interrupted, grabbing the kid in the car next door by the earlobe too and shoving us both in the direction of the auditorium.
“Do not pass go,” Ms. Caf commanded. “Do not collect two hundred dollars. Go to the assembly. Go directly to the assembly.”
“But I have shop class,” the kid beside me whined.
“Not today, you don’t,” Caf snapped. “A fellow student loses his life in a freak accident. I think your model airplane can wait.”
A freak accident. That’s what the school was calling it.MoreLess
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