Juji -- Teen Investigator

Chapter 5 - "A Long School Day"

    “Smash!” The volleyball was spiked right off the top of my head. It was not the first time I had yielded my position in fear of injury and leaned down to first protect my face. It was a big part of the daily battle I faced in every PE class.

    “Woo!” yelled Haley as she began celebrating with other girls on her team.

    My first reaction was to turn to my teammates and ask for support in spite of my play and the resulting lopsided score. But all I felt was disrespect for my lack of physical coordination. “I’m sorry guys. Due to my size and physical talent. I am not a proficient Middle Blocker.”

    Girls on my team only became angrier. “You’re just not a team player.”

    “Your only concern is protecting yourself,” said another angry girl on my team.

    Another girl proudly announced, “I don’t know why we have to have kids playing in our senior PE class anyway.”

    “RING!”

    When the bell rang, the PE coach yelled out, “Okay, that’s it. Everyone, head to the locker and get your stuff!”

    The girls all continued out together, and I walked over to my backpack at the far side of the gymnasium. I was sure to leave my phone, school books, and backpack in sight during every PE class to ensure its protection. When I opened my bag, immediately I pulled out my phone and began typing in questions.

    “List volleyball rules for spiking,” was my first question to document direct regulations. I then waited for a response.

    As specific regulations appeared on screen the phone began announcing, “A volleyball spike is the coordinated effort of footwork, arm swing, and explosiveness. A volleyball spike is generally aimed at the floor, but there is no rule preventing the direction of a spiked volleyball.”

     “Juji?” I was surprised to hear the voice from across the gymnasium.

    When I looked up I noticed Haley, the cheerleader who had just spiked the ball off my head jogging across the gym floor. I looked on curiously as she walked over to where I was sitting.

    “Hi,” she said with a polite face. “I wanted to speak directly to you, now that we’re finished with our PE class. I was waiting for you in the locker room but saw you weren’t following everyone in, so I came back out. Can you talk?”

    “I guess,” I responded nervously as I turned off my phone and loaded it back into my backpack. “I’ve just got some studying to do for the big test and some homework. I don’t have a lot of free time at the moment.”

    “It’s Freddy’s History grade,” Haley interrupted me without hesitation. “He might be pulled from the game on Friday, but I have a plan. And I think you could help.”

    My suspicions were confirmed. “No thank you,” I immediately replied.

    I had already been confronted by one coach, two teachers, and several members of the football team. Cheating was one practice that I would not participate in. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t break rules,” I answered as I continued zipping up my backpack.

    “I never asked you to cheat,” replied Haley, indignant of my attitude. “I only asked if you’d be willing to help.”

    That response surprised me. Helping Freddy was the one thing I seriously wanted to do. If that was Haley’s request, I would gladly reach out to help Freddy and Pixley High School. “I could help him study, or maybe I could explain some of the detailed questions from the Renaissance period planned for the test. Would he be interested in a study session? I am free today or tonight.”

    “No, that’s not it,” she nervously replied. “It’s just your seat in the World History class.”

    “My seat?”

    “If you just move your elbow back while taking the exam. I can check some of my answers, and I can then let Freddy check some of his answers from my test. That way, you’re not the one cheating. I’ve got it all worked out.”

    I wasn’t surprised by that confusing logic, and I immediately looked away. “I will not participate in dishonest coordination of answers while filling in circles on the computerized History test. Thank you for thinking of me, but no thank you.”

    “Fine,” answered Haley as she stood up. “You can sit alone... with no friends... and study by yourself in the library. That’s your choice. But you’ll eventually get what’s coming to you. Just wait.”

    Haley then turned and angrily walked away. I sat back down on the first row of the bleachers and continued loading my backpack. I wanted nothing more than Freddy to pass the test and play in the football game. But in spite of the requests and persuasive threats I’d received, I would in no way participate in or encourage cheating of any kind.

    When I looked up, I noticed Haley talking to Coach Kenny and pointing in my direction. This was interesting to note but again proved nothing. Haley would be head cheerleader in Friday’s game, whether Freddy played or not. And she would probably be attending Saturday’s Fall Formal with Freddy. I knew they both would do anything to resolve this problem.

    While watching the confrontation with Coach Kenny, I had several questions. Was Haley simply boasting about her volleyball victory, or attacking me for my unwillingness to cheat? Was Coach Kenny unhappy about my volleyball skills, or was he just angry that I was not willing to cheat on the exam? I thought the answers to those questions were obvious but again rose to nothing resulting in a confrontation.

    The final bell finally rang, which meant my school day was over. I could pack my gear and ride my bike to the college library. There, I could continue analyzing data from European History from the fifteenth century and the European Renaissance. And I could begin calculating the root of five point two for my Calculus assignment.

    Or, a third possible option would be to continue researching information on the boy making exchanges in the school parking lot, who was also spotted in the office of the principal’s secretary, Ms. Dana.

    Were they related? Did that boy own the TR-4A car with no license plates? Why was that car allowed in the high school parking lot? Was there any connection with Hank, the security guard? This was all information that I might be able to uncover by collecting public information data from city hall and the public library.

    As I walked across the gym floor towards the gymnasium door exit, I stopped. Outside the boy’s locker room, I noticed Coach Kenny talking to more players from the football team. He was not mentioning Freddy and his failing grades, but he was encouraging the team to join together to help Freddy any way they could. I was unsure about Coach Kenny’s statement. Was it a message based on morality -- proper for all students, or encouragement to break laws?

    Coach Kenny saw me walking by slowly, at a distance close enough to hear, and his attitude quickly changed one-hundred and eighty degrees. He spoke loudly. “No student should put their own ego above that of their teammates! Any student that believes their own personal interest is more important than victory should get no respect from the team, and no respect from this school.”

    The entire team glanced over in my direction as I continued into the locker room. I could hear mumbling and personal attacks, but I ignored it all because I was only concerned about pursuing what was right.

    When I walked into the school lobby, I heard other students talking about Freddy’s possible sitting out of the important Friday Football game. I wanted to reach out and explain my position. I was ready and willing to aid and volunteer to help any student, but I could never willingly cheat on a test.

    Back to my school locker, I pulled out my elbow and knee pads and quickly slid them on. I stuffed my backpack with books, notebooks.

    As usual, students looked at me mumbling their critical comments, which as usual, I ignored. I had a lot on my mind and just wanted to get to the University library to begin homework and calculations.

    Just as I did every afternoon before leaving school, I left my empty school locker by entering the first four numbers on my combination lock. The locker contained nothing important so nothing could be stolen. It was nevertheless important to ensure quick access first thing in the morning.

    I then walked down the hall carrying elbow and knee padding along with my helmet and the usual load of books. Teachers in the hall as usual seemed to be watching with suspicion. It was as if they knew the football game was in danger and were offended that I refused to help.

    When I got to my bike I first checked the chain wrapped through the front tire, looped around the body, and finished up through the rear tire. I also again examined the damage done to the bike that morning with the scratch on the handlebars and the bent aluminum spokes on the front wheel. I was satisfied that the bike appeared just the way it was left.

    I stood next to the bikes and put on my helmet and tightened the strap. Other students looked on laughing as they made their way out to cars in the parking lot. After I had on my full padding and all my books strapped in, I began entering the combination, unwrapped the chain, and climbed on board.

    As I began pedaling out towards the parking lot exit, I noticed another crowd of students gathered in the same back area. When I looked closer, I confirmed. It was definitely the same black Triumph car.

    I silently rode closer, then noticed the black car was parked in a stationary setting with four students standing around. Teachers, coaches, and the principal’s secretary were nowhere in sight. Smoke seemed to be floating near the car, but I could not identify who was smoking and what they might be smoking.

    I quickly pulled over in a concealed position and laid my bike down behind a truck. I unzipped my bag and removed my phone and quickly adjusted the settings. I began crawling quietly around cars in the parking lot and cautiously remained out of sight. While ducking behind cars, I used my knee pads and elbow pads to advance.

    When I reached an out of site position with an unblocked view of the car, I began recording and getting a steady roll of video.

    Using the widescreen picture, I witnessed no improper conduct or exchange. The crowd of students seemed to be growing, but I still had no concrete evidence of possible illegal substances or simple evidence of a crime.

    Remaining out of sight, I adjusted the camera to zoom in to snap close-up shots of each member of the crowd of students. They all seemed interested in something being exhibited by the driver. I was frustrated because I knew all recorded audio could not be easily discerned, and I still had no video evidence to prosecute a crime.

    “Juji! I’ve been looking for you!” Brooke ran up from behind a car yelling with excitement and no idea what I might be doing -- and no interest. Immediately, I tried to act like I was only crouched down behind the car to rest.

    “Hi Brooke,” I responded politely as I immediately turned off my phone and loaded back into my pocket. I then stood up and began walking quietly back to my parked bike.

    “I think I might have some dates all lined up for Saturday!” she yelled with excitement. “I nearly got commitments from both those two boys in the cafeteria. And that wasn’t easy!”

    I was confused and continued discouraging her again. “Thanks Brooke, but I’m really not interested.”

    “Not interested? Are you kidding?” said Brooke as she followed alongside. “The guy I got for you is bright, clean… and he also gets a few A’s... in certain classes, I think! He’s not bad looking, and he’s not too fat or too short... or too tall! You know?”

    “It’s not important,” I replied politely.

    “And even though this boy I got for you is a junior, he’s still one year older than you! Can you believe it? His name is Sean. He’ll be your date, and I’ll be going with Tommy! They’re perfect!”

    I listened politely and continued glancing over, trying to lock down the evidence on the possible illegal activity around the black Triumph. There were still people around the car and undocumented conversations going on in the parking lot.

    Brooke continued, “All I need is a simple nod or just a response of confirmation. Any signal, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

    “Brooke, I’ve answered your requests several times,” I replied again. I wanted my response to be clear and legally binding so I looked Brooke right in the eye. “I will be spending my weekend summarizing derivatives for Calculus, and formulating elements for Chemistry that will be due on Tuesday. I will therefore be declining, forcing a default judgment, and waving your request.”

    Brooke looked confused and considered the overall meaning of my statement before looking up with excitement, “So you’ll go? I’ll tell the boys! It’s going to be great!”

    She then ran off with a bright smile and seemed filled with excitement.

    I stood watching and was confused. I was surprised by her misunderstanding of basic law and principles. I wanted to chase her down to resolve the confusion, but I did not want to waste time explaining the legal definition of waving a request.

    When I turned back towards the Triumph car in the parking lot, students were gone, and the driver was climbing into his car.

    Before pursuing the conflict further, I wheeled my bicycle over to Hank, the security guard. Hank was sitting in the small booth next to the exit of the parking lot. He was staring down at his computer phone, wearing tiny earphones and listening to heavy rock music. I could hear the noise from five feet away. He obviously had no interest in these undocumented activities going on in the parking lot. He seemed to be just passing time.

    “Excuse me?” I asked politely.

    Hank looked surprised and quickly pulled off his earphones, and stuffed them under his desk. “What do you want?”

    I looked around and pointed to the car in the back of the parking lot. I then asked politely, “I’m just curious about the identification of the driver of the old black convertible parked in the back. What can you tell me?”

    “That’s a classic 1965 convertible. It’s been rebuilt and modified.”

    I typed information into my phone and began recording, “1965? And do you know the model of that Triumph?” I asked politely.

    “It’s a TR4, or something?” he replied.

    “And who is the driver?” I asked and pointed the camera at the face of Hank.

    “The driver is Winston,” responded Hank nervously. “He graduated a few years ago. Why do you want to know?”

    I spun the camera getting shots around Hank’s chair and continued, “I’m just curious. Can you tell me the name of the driver?”

    “His name is Winston, and he has every right to be in the parking lot,” yelled Hank, and he seemed to be getting angry.

    “Are people besides students and faculty allowed in the parking lot during school hours?” I asked politely.

    “He can drive that car in when I say so.”

    I checked my recording and continued, “And do you know why students are gathering around the car in the mornings and afternoons?”

    “I don’t know,” Hank replied as he stood up. “And what business is that of yours?”

    “Well, it’s against school policy for non-students or non-faculty to drive into the parking lot during school hours,” I said respectfully. “Can you tell me why he’s being allowed access?”

    Hank was angry. “Well, I think his aunt works in the office, and he’s a graduate of Pixley High School! That’s enough for me. You should just mind your own business!”

    “Can you tell me what year he graduated?” I replied.

    “No,” yelled Hank. “I’m school security, and he has my permission!”

    I knew my questions would no longer be addressed. I didn’t want to fully burn the bridge so I turned off my camera phone and said politely, “Thank you, Hank. I was just curious.”

    I could hear mumbling coming from Hank as I turned and walked away. He seemed to have no interest in the unexplained activity and took offense at the idea of my simple curiosity. That said a lot.

    As I walked back towards my bike, I noticed the driver stood up and checked his phone. After reading something, he looked around the parking lot and seemed angry. I immediately ducked behind a car and leaned back against the tire wheel, where I sat motionlessly.

    Suddenly, an older student, probably a senior, walked up to the car I was hiding behind. He seemed annoyed to see me and motioned for me to move. “Could you please get away from my car?”

    “I’m sorry. I was just taking care of some personal business,” I replied politely.

    “Well, you can do that around your own car, or bike,” he said as he climbed into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and took off. Being fully exposed, I put on my helmet and climbed back on my bike.

    When I looked back, the driver looked angry before he started the car. The unique-sounding engine was loud, and he immediately pulled around and sped through the parking lot.

    I watched the car pull up to Hank at the security station and ask questions. Even ducked down, I could see Hank pointing in the direction of my bike and the Triumph driver looking back. He then drove the 1965 Triumph out onto the street.

    My first reaction was to avoid reactions or questions from surrounding students. I believed I may have witnessed crimes that overrode all social confusion. But I knew I had no evidence to justify a report to Pixley staff or city police.

    I immediately began pedaling my bike through the parking lot, past Hank’s station, and out of the school exit.

    Hank pulled off his headphones and stepped out as I rode past. He yelled questions and seemed annoyed, but I continued without hesitation. I was determined to follow that Triumph to possibly find out more information about the driver, and the business conducted at my high school.

    When I came up to stop signs, I had no choice but to come to a full stop. Other cars slowed down but did not fully stop. I was very strict in my law-abiding behavior even if it meant maneuvering through big streets.

    Downtown was not an area I normally visited, and I did not feel comfortable on a bike. There were closed businesses, high alcohol, and d**g use, and much homeless living on the street. Crime was rampant compared to the rest of the city, but I was determined to hear an explanation for this driver’s visits to campus.

    The Triumph continued racing faster than the speed limit and making quick turns, and there was no way I could keep up. I watched him finally turn right onto Main street before going out of sight. I reluctantly turned and began heading back towards my own house.

    I had given up.