“IT WAS TIME to see what was happening with Trent. Trent was in the office of the school’s vice principal, along with Pete. The vice principal’s name—on her desktop nameplate—was Constance Conamarra. “I’ve got a report of an incident between the two of you and a Muslim student yesterday,” she was saying. Messenger and I stood in the corner of the cramped room, invisible, of course, inaudible. But I felt conspicuous just the same. “That’s bull . . . um, not true at all,” Trent said. “Is it, Pete?...” “Totally not true. Whatever that chick said—” “I never mentioned it was a girl,” Conamarra said. That stopped Pete, but not Trent, who said, “Whatever. Okay, look, I was just playing around, no big deal.” “Actually it is quite a big deal. It’s a three-day suspension big deal. And I’d be within my rights to make it much worse, believe me.” Pete groaned but Trent’s face turned sullen with rising fury. “No way,” he said. “You can’t suspend me just for grabbing some towel-head’s scarf, that’s b.s.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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