good guys always win

good guys always win

chapter 9

(8.24.02 )

As I trudged through the long hallway, I remembered the time I got caught in front of everyone for cheating on a spelling test in 2nd grade. We had one of those open-drawer desks that you could just slide your books and pencils into. I would have my spelling book opened to the page we were being tested on and slide it in only halfway. I took my spelling tests in this manner for a few months with great success until some annoying Jewish kid ratted me out to the teacher. I was really scared when my seventy-something year-old second grade teacher came up to me, but she just gently slid my spelling book all the way in and assured everyone that I wasn't "cheating." It was an embarrassing moment for me, but even more so, a guilty one. I don't think I ever cheated in elementary school after that incident. Would the same feeling emerge from this incident?

I noticed a bunch of kids from my grade in the hallway near the room. I wondered why so many kids, some whose names I didn't even know, were walking the same way. My estimate was that about ten people, no more than fifteen, had received the same notice as me. I wondered if these kids had also somehow gotten the index cards. I walked by them and began to see some familiar faces.

"And there he is - the ringleader," Crof greeted me as I entered the room. In a weird way, it was relieving to see all my friends there - Warren, Wally, Head, Fatboy, Crof, Truz, Huhzoo, Fanman, Chris, and Bo. I also saw the girls who were regularly hooked up with the goods like Joli, Melody, and Alessandra. The room filled up with more students, and when the principal, Walker, and the social studies department head all walked in, twenty-three seats had been occupied.

Everyone was anxious about something. Some people wondered how their parents might react, some wondered if colleges would see this, and others became nervous about not making it into the National Honors Society. I tried to joke around with my friends by talking about how wide an influence we had on this assignment, but I still felt a nervous tug in my stomach.

"Everybody quiet down," Principal Ricchio said in a stern voice, "We're all here today because you have disappointed us greatly. This is one of the most embarrassing incidents ever at this school. All of you have CHEATED."

Ricchio went on and on about our lack of integrity, our poor decision-making, and our lack of respect for Walker. Ricchio was a short Italian guy, close to his sixties with gray hair and speckled gray beared. He was sort of scary that day. Crof raised his hand to make a comment:

"But this was only a homework assignment and its volume was ridiculous. Why should it be such a big deal?"

"This isn't about how much work you had to do. This is about principles and the rules you broke to get around your assigned work. How dare you question what you were ordered to do?" Ricchio reprimanded him.

Schuster, the clumsy, brown-haired Don King-styled department head made a brief comment about how he was disappointed in all of us, whom he believed were bright, talented students. He was right about that. We had kids in high positions of student council, we had some kids whose parents were on the Board of Ed, and some who had leadership positions in humanitarian clubs. I panned the room to observe some faces, and one had an especially constipated look emphasized by an incessantly shaking leg. It was Chris, the class president, looking like he was listening to Jonathan Edward's "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" sermon. It was a stark comparison to most of the others, who looked a bit down, but no more so than usual. It was funny to compare Chris to Truz, who sat comfortably in the back, checking out some girls sitting nearby.

Walker now walked to the front and addressed us. He held in his hand what appeared to be printouts of all the index card definitions from our website.

"I have a niece that works at AOL, and through it, I was able to obtain this information that proves a select group of you had already established a 'cheating ring'," Walker told us. This was obviously bullshit because Walker was an old fogey who couldn't tell the difference between a mouse and keyboard. I think he probably read about AOL that morning in the Wall Street Journal or something. Our site wasn't even anywhere near AOL; I had used some Korean message board that would be impossible to find unless given the link. Walker continued as he made a firm statement that reiterated his no-tolerance policy against cheaters and swore that none of us would receive his recommendation into NHS and that he would do all he could in his power to prevent us from making it.

Ricchio repeated his disappointment once more and warned everyone that their parents would receive a phone call about this cheating incident. He then gave everyone the sign to leave the classroom. Slowly, the rows emptied and kids began to walk out the door. I gathered my bookbag and started out of my seat.

"Peter - you stay here," Ricchio said to me with a piercing look. I dropped back into my seat and saw my friends leave the room, each giving me a look of pity while walking out the door.

It was me and three white men. It was no longer a sermon-lecture on the wrongs of cheating. This was an all-out interrogation, KGB-style. I tried to be composed as possible. I sat with my back straight, and I boldy eyed each one of them. Ricchio approached me first.

"It looks like you were the ringleader of this entire operation. What made you do such a thing?"

"Well, first, I'd like to say I'm truly sorry for this. It was just a way for us to do our homework faster."

"But don't you think it was wrong?"

"Well, I guess so, but it was only homework, so I didn't think it was a big deal. And Mr. Walker, I really respect you as a teacher, and I apologize for disappointing you," I said. It was unususal for me to be so eloquent in such a high-pressure moment. I was usually shy around adults, but for some reason, I felt convicted that what I had done was nothing to be ashamed of.

"I have a conversation here that took place on-line -- 'that walker mofo - his ass ought to retire and shit so we wouldn't be in this mess.' Does that sound familiar?" Ricchio asked, as he read off a print out. My stomach felt a strong tug, and I nearly lost my poise.

"Ye-yes. Well, you know how the lingo is with kids these days. We use words like that to sound cool, you know?" I was beginning to be very nervous.

"This is unbelievable. It is complete disrespect for your teacher, who has worked hard to prepare you for next year's AP exam," Schuster said, as he joined in the interrogation.

"And all along, I thought he was such a great student. He would always participate in class and do well on tests," Walker said with a deep sigh. I was embarrassed that the old man had to read my remark about his needing to retire.

"You're going to face some serious consequences. You think a college will admit you after something like this? I don't know, Peter - we're looking at a very big mess here," Ricchio told me. I was momentarily scared and had no answer. When the three white men had finished scolding the evil yellow boy, they finally allowed me to leave. I picked up my bag and left.

Outside the classroom, I took a deep breath, and felt relieved that I had stayed strong throughout the unexpected ordeal. I headed towards my second period class and slowly walked down the hallway. As I made a turn, I saw my friends waiting for me in front of the cafeteria. Warren, Wally, Head, Huhzoo, and Fanman all had concerned looks on their faces and asked me if I was alright and what had happened. I just shook my head and told them that it was like a verbal gangbang. I asked Huhzoo how Walker had gotten hold of our conversation.

"What conversation? I went away from my computer.... Oh shit! Benson was over that time. I think he copied and pasted it."

"Do you think Benson also got access to our board and printed out evidence for Walker?" I asked, half-pissed and half-curious.

"Yah - I think he's the one who told on us."

We all looked at each other in amazement. We had bullied this kid around for some small fun, but he had gotten his revenge through a more serious trick. Collective anger formed among us. Our parents were going to have to find out and our NHS bids were all but hopeless. I also worried about my own personal fate, which I believed would be harsher than everyone else. However, we believed that this whole incident wasn't a total loss. We knew who had screwed us over, and it looked as if we would follow up John Foster Dulles's policy of massive retaliation. I could see that everyone was already thinking of ways to torment Benson. As the day progressed, the word spread that Benson was solely responsible for the bust.

"Yeah, so he was the one who told Walker and printed out everything," I said to Truz during passing.

"That fucking rat. He's gonna die," Truz said.

Fucking rat.