Juji -- Teen Investigator

    Coming up to the red light, I knew my right turn would leave me just short of one thousand meters from the school driveway. As usual, I raised my left arm at a ninety-degree angle, signaling the right turn. I pulled out my phone and saw I had plenty of extra time for unloading bike gear and backpack into my locker and picking up my clipboard and black fine ink pen.     When the light turned green, I began pedaling and carefully making my turn.     “BAM!” A black sports car suddenly sped by, cutting across the bike lane making the right turn -- illegally. I didn’t see the driver or the license plate as my bike swerved into the curb, knocking me off my bike, face down on the curb.     My first reaction was to protect the bike by raising my hands and elbow. With the help of a helmet and pads; my head, elbows, and knees were protected. The cuts on my hands and shin were painful but not so deep to demand stitches or immediate bandages.     I first lifted the bike and leaned it up against the curb checking for possible abrasions or damage to the clean red frame. I noticed a slight scratch on the chrome handlebars and damage to the spokes on the front tire.     Immediately, I pulled out my phone, quickly registered using both thumbprint and eye confirmation, then made a selection of camera settings. The car was nearly out of sight moving rapidly through traffic, but I was still able to record the color, shape, and style of the automobile from a distance. I could not make out a model and saw no license plate number as it disappeared from sight.     I immediately adjusted the zoom settings on my phone and recorded additional pictures of the corner and various angles of the bike. There were new scratches on the frame and handlebars. And when I moved the camera in close. I got wide shots of the intersection and tire tracks on the street.      When I opened voice memos, I spoke directly into the phone microphone and recorded, “Classic black convertible sports car, possibly built in the late fifties or early sixties, cut illegally through the bike lane. The driver seemed unaware of the contiguity of the careless turn and left tire mark from the back right tire. Possible damage to the right handlebar and bottom spokes on the rear tire.”     “Honk! Honk!”     I was surprised to see impatient drivers and lines of cars backed up waiting to make their right turn. I quickly considered my options. Any attempt at further documentation caused by the speeding car and injuries to the body may result in more in angry drivers and possible school tardiness. My only choice was to continue with a fast-paced ride to school and documentation of additional information and possible bike damage at another time.     When the green light turned yellow, I took off bolting through the intersection. I knew my time may be close, but with speed and access to certain areas of the sidewalk, I was sure I’d still achieve my usual punctual arrival. I quickly pedaled down the busy road where it was legally permitted and continued signaling. Timely arrival was crucial, and a simple scratch on handlebars was no evidence to prove blatant disregard of the law.     My entire life was organized around the school. I was proud of my consistent completion of homework, detailed studying and preparation for tests in every subject, and maintaining the same grade in my four years at Pixley High School -- straight A’s.     But I knew that extra minute and fifty-three seconds I’d spent documenting the results of the accident had slowed me down to the point of a possible tardy slip, which could be accompanied by a warning note. “Students may not be admitted to class without written permission from the teacher.” This was a warning I’d come very close to receiving, and my perfect attendance streak was never to be disregarded.     I was proud to document all excursions and confrontations with my phone and my home computer. With pictures, video and voice generated text descriptions, I was constantly recording all suspicious visions and solving curious real-life puzzles, at home and around the school. It was my one exhilarating triumph I was consistently proud of.     I was living with my grandparents two miles away from Pixley High School. I started school early, skipped the second and sixth grade, and was therefore a fourteen-year-old high school senior. Although my fifteenth birthday was approaching, I was still the age of the average high school freshman.     My grades were also very important to me. I took pride in answering every question correctly on every exam and was always proud to be the first to finish. I had consistently maintained that A plus average since first grade and that was the year I lost my parents -- a year I’d never forget.     As I turned onto the school driveway, the first bell rang giving me exactly three minutes. I made my daily wave to the bored security guard, Hank, and got the usual ‘non-response’. I then continued between cars and crowds of students, who were making their way around campus and into the main building.     I knew I had plenty of time to park and lock my bike. I also planned to store my helmet and pads in my locker, and I would still make it to my first class with time to spare. This had been my routine since starting Pixley High School three and three-quarter years ago.     Onto the rack, I rolled up my bike and began my daily routine of wrapping the bike chain through certain spokes on the front tire and two times around the base of the frame. I stopped when I noticed a black sports car in the school parking lot. Students were gathered around, and the driver was sitting motionless in the driver’s seat. I studied the look of the car from a side angle but had no evidence or confirmation that it was the same car.     I moved closer, walking out into the parking lot, trying to see the rear angle of the car. I was filled with questions.     Was the gathering of students around the automobile before class breaking any rules? Did I have evidence of unapproved access of that car to the school parking lot? Was this car guilty of the careless driving which caused the crash of my bicycle? And was this enough to warrant a call to the principal, or to the police?     No. Again, my only evidence of misdoing was my word against his -- a back car knocked me down, and this was a black car.     I walked cautiously into the school parking lot looking through windows and mirrors of anonymous cars and searched for details of the black car. The unidentified driver was wearing a red baseball cap and a black shirt. He appeared older than surrounding students -- mostly male, dressed poorly, messy hair, and all high school seniors.     In spite of my curiosity, I saw no evidence of any legal wrongdoing and nothing to prove liability for my injuries or bicycle damage. Nevertheless, I still pulled out my phone and tried to zoom into shots of student's faces.     Without attracting attention, I then crawled under one car and angled my camera using the color monitor. I was able to zoom into close-up photos of the parked car, the missing license plate, and the unique shape of the car’s hood. When students turned and looked around in my direction, I quickly got up. I put the phone back into my pocket, turned, and began moving towards the front door of Pixley High School.     Even without recognition, it was important that I maintain the unidentified status of an average Pixley High student. When I checked the time on my phone, I knew I was cutting it close again and began to run.     The principal, Mr. Ivan, was standing in the doorway as I approached the front of the building. He seemed anxious to close the door and lead me to his office. I knew I had more than twenty seconds and could still make it to class on time, provided I didn’t make my usual stop at the locker.     “Good morning Mr. Ivan,” I said seconds before entering the front door.     Principal Ivan didn’t greet me with a smile or polite response but looked annoyed as I walked by. “Arriving late is a demonstration that your time is more important than my time,” he said while looking at his watch.     “Yes sir.”     “And your irresponsible bicycle routine can cause tardiness for car drivers, teachers, and other students,” he mumbled. “I hope you realize that.”     I immediately stopped and turned to Principal Ivan. “Laws in this state require drivers of motor vehicles to not pass or overtake bicycles riding in the same direction. When the unidentified driver cut me off, I had to stop.”     “Even if your bike is lying in the street... You can’t just stop taking pictures... That’s my law,” yelled the principal as he pulled the door closed.     “A driver passing a bicycle must maintain a distance of three feet, and I was documenting the crime that was committed.”     “Fine, fine,” replied Principal Ivan who was not listening. “Just go to class.”     I looked down at my phone and realized I no longer had time to stop at my locker. It was important that I head straight to the classroom to avoid another possible confrontation.     “Thank you, Mr. Ivan. Sorry for the confusion.”     Principal Ivan then clenched his jaw as he made his way to his office.