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Read the previous two blogs if you are just joining in.

continuing on…

The next day seemed started out as usual. I got up 10 minutes before the bus was to pick me up, was out of the house in seven, hotboxed a smoke in three and hit the bus stop just as it rolled up.

When the bus pulled up in front of the school, I noticed Mr. Gibson, one of the assistant vice-principals, waiting at the curb. That was odd. It was even odder when he got on the bus, before anyone got off, spoke quietly to the bus driver, looked at me and another kid named Stewie, nodded to the bus driver, and got back off the bus.

What the hell?

I grabbed my shit and proceeded to exit the bus. By the time I hit the bottom step, Mr. Gibson was right there to greet me. Standing just behind him was Stewie.

“Come with me, Stewie,” he said.

His tone said don’t even bother questioning him. And I didn’t. I just went.

Mr. Gibson led us to the office, where he directed me to one of the chairs. “Have a seat and wait for Mr. Stup to call you in his office,” he said. He then turned to Stewie, “You. Come with me.”

They headed back in the office, and from the look on Stewie’s face, he was just as confused as I was. Neither one of us had any idea what was going on. Well, it wasn’t long before I found out.

Mr. Stup poked his head out of his office. “Get in here.”

I got up and went in the office. I was trying to think of any reason on why the hell I was there, but couldn’t. I wasn’t really friends with Stewie, we just lived in the same neighborhood. There was nothing we could have done together that would have got us in trouble. I obviously wasn’t on the right track.

As soon as I sat down in Stup’s office, he started with the questions.

“Want to tell me what happened yesterday?” He asked.

“Nothing?” I replied. I was clueless.

“Nothing? Try again. What happened on the bus yesterday?”

“Uh… Nothing?” My mind was working overdrive. I thought maybe this was about pushing David, but he seemed way to upset for it to be that.

“Nothing? Nothing!?! Nothing happened with David?”

“He wouldn’t move when I got off the bus, so I gave him a push. It’s not like I knocked him down.” I guess it was about the push.

“So you touched him?”

“Huh? Well I guess. I pushed him. But not hard.” Something was bubbling to the top of my head, but I was ignoring it. I started to see where this was going, but I couldn’t believe it.

“So you touched him.” He repeated. “Where did you touch him?”

“Wait,” I said. This was about to get ugly. “I pushed him. I gave him a push on his shoulder or arm or something.” I didn’t like that word “touch.” No sir.

“Just in his arm? You didn’t touch him anywhere else? I heard different.”

“From who? Yes, just in his arm. And it was a push. Not a touch.”

Suddenly, Stup just started yelling. I’m not talking about the yelling your girlfriend accuses you of when she doesn’t like the tone of your voice. He was yelling. Voice raised and all.

“IT WAS A TOUCH! WE HAVE WITNESSES THAT SAID YOU TOUCHED HIM! YOU TOUCHED DAVID!”

“What?!?!” I knew then. I knew what this was about. And I was scared. I didn’t know how to defend myself. “I didn’t ‘touch’ him! I just pushed him.”

“I heard different. There are witnesses!”

I turned my head to the outside office, and for the first time the door was open. This was going from bad to worse. I knew anyone and everyone in the outer office was hearing everything going on. And I also knew that anyone and everyone in the outer office consisted of 90% students. I was fucked.

“Bring them in.” I said.

“Who?”

“The witnesses. Because I DID NOT TOUCH HIM!”

“DON’T YOU RAISE YOUR VOICE TO ME!” He yelled. This guy was such a fuck.

“I WILL! I DID NOT TOUCH HIM! AND YOU ARE YELLING AT ME FOR NO REASON. AND EVERYONE IN THE GODDAMN OFFICE CAN HEAR US!” Yes, I dropped a curse on the VP. At this point I didn’t care.

“You watch your mouth. You are in deep, here.”

“No, I’m not. I didn’t do anything wrong. I pushed him, but that was it. I did not touch him and you aren’t showing me anyone that said I did.”

“We have witnesses.”

“No you don’t.”

“What makes you think we don’t?”

“Because I didn’t touch him. And you are trying to scare me. If you had witnesses, they’d be here.”

His face changed. I can’t describe it, but his look changed. I was right. At that point I knew his only “witness” was David. He confirmed it when he asked his next question.

“Do you smoke?”

“Huh? What? Yes.” The question came out of the blue.

“Do you have cigarettes on you?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I smoke.” This guy was dense.

“Let me have them.” He said, holding his hand out.

“No.”

“What? Give them to me.”

“No. Nowhere in school policy does it say I can’t have cigarettes. You can’t have them.” When you are 15 and smoke in school, you know the rules.

“Do you smoke in school?”

“Of course not. That would get me suspended or expelled.” What a dumb fuck. Of course I smoked in school. But I wasn’t going to admit to it.

“Then why do you have cigarettes.”

“Because I smoke at the bus stop.”

“Well, you can get suspended for that.”

“No I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. From the moment you leave the house until you get home, you are on the school’s property.”

“Okay.” For the first time I laughed. “My parents would be interested in knowing that their land now belongs to the school.”

His face turned red. “You know what I meant, stop getting smart. It’s your smart mouth that gets you in trouble.”

“Whatever. Now what?”

“Go to class. This is far from over. We have witnesses.”

“Can I get a note?” I needed one to get to class without getting in trouble.

“No. Get out of my office.”

I went to class. I had walked into first period 20 minutes late. The teacher just nodded to me. She knew.

As I walked back to my desk, my friends where smiling at me. They knew.

The word was already out.

I had been accused of touching a mentally retarded kid.

It wouldn’t be until fourth period until things started to really go my way.

  • yaaaah!!!!! Another cliffhanger!!

    if you don’t finish the story quick, I’m going to tell blogger that you… touched… me…

    I HAVE WITNESSES!!

  • I’m liking the story, but I’m wondering where the inspiration to re-tell it came from?

    Either way, getting accused of the bad touch…not good. Getting accused of the bad touch on a retarded kid…off the charts dag nasty.

    Good thing it was a little before the PC police really lost thier minds, eh?

  • That’s some nasty shit.

  • Tsk, tsk. Are you on the registered sex offenders list?

  • Is 4th period where the retard ass-raped you? Come on, you can tell yer uncle Aric.

  • norman – it’s too damn long for one post. this is not intentional. 🙂

    brik – thanks! i have no idea why i decided to post it. i think i was thinking of what a dick Stup was one day, and that reminded me of what happened. and, yeah, i’m glad it didn’t happen now a days.

    dave – there is a happy ending.

    freak – that reminds me. i meant to do a post on my feelings of the registry.

    aric – you want it to be anal sex, don’t you. that’s the second time you brought it up. maybe this is something you need to deal with. i think you are projecting some of you own feelings here.

  • Ace

    I’m starting to enjoy this.

    The nice thing about being a “good” kid in school was you could get away with anything.

  • they may be saying ‘no’ but all you hear is “I want cake.” They all do, they all want cake.

  • Ace, I didn’t get away with much. The staff knew me, unfortunately.

    MEAT! WHERE ARE YOU?!?

  • This is great. I knew you were a molester when I met you, but I didn’t want to say anything.

    Ace, now that this is coming out you can room with me next year at HF if you want. Nobody will blame you from wanting to stay away from Stewie now.

  • Ace is too old for my taste.