Bill glanced at the name at the top of the test. “Andrew Reese needs to study more?”
“Look again.”
Bill read through Andrew’s answers, and quickly realized that many of them made no sense. For example, he’d written that the war had begun with the invasion of “the Battle of Britain,” and that one of the leading generals in the Spanish Civil War was “Communism.” It didn’t take long to figure out what had happened. “He answered the questions from last year’s test on this year’s test?”
Pat nodded. “You know how I was reading that book by William Shirer this summer?”
“The one with . . . the cover?” Pat never went anywhere without a book, but his attempts to hide the cover of that particular book had been a source of constant amusement for Bill that summer. Pat had taken to carrying it around in a padded leather Bible case in order to mask the large offensive symbol on the front. Bill had made a habit of teasing him about it any time he saw him paging through it at the community pool, asking him how he was enjoying the “Good Book.”
“Well, it was fascinating, so naturally, I wanted to incorporate some of it into the unit. I’ve been using the same tests for the past few years, but I decided to rewrite it this year so I could reflect a little bit of the new material. Same format, same number of questions, but I changed up the order, rephrased some stuff, introduced a couple new things. Nothing major. Should’ve been about the same difficulty level as the last one.” He sighed, shaking his head. “And then this happened.”
It was easy enough to fill in the blanks. “So Andy got a copy of last year’s test, memorized the answers, and just filled them all in without actually reading the questions,” Bill surmised.
“Oh, it’s worse than that. If it was just one kid cheating, I mean, it sucks, but I’ve dealt with that before. But this . . .” Pat readjusted his position in his too-small chair, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, fingers laced together. He glanced at the door to Bill’s office before lowering his voice. “Bill, I don’t think it’s just Andy. I went through all my other classes, and I don’t know for sure, but I just . . . have my suspicions that something is going on. That’s what I needed your advice about.”
“Do you have proof?”
Pat shook his head. “Andy is the only one so far that I can prove. I have a few others I suspect. But if I’m right, I doubt it’s contained to just my class. It may be all over the school.”
Bill blew out a long breath, then reached into his bottom desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of Bacardi 151. Spinning around in his chair, he grabbed two Styrofoam cups that were stacked next to the coffeepot behind him, then turned back to face Pat. Wordlessly, he poured an inch of rum into each of the cups and handed one to Pat.
Pat took a sip, closing his eyes for a moment to savor. “You know it’s a big deal if you’re breaking out the good stuff.”
“I just . . .” Bill shook his head. “If word gets out that we’ve got a school-wide cheating scandal, that’s going to be another blow to Diane’s campaign.”
Pat wrinkled his forehead. “How’s that?”
“You know Gibson has been attacking her education plan every chance he gets,” Bill said. “He’ll say it’s ridiculous to invest more money into public education and increase teacher pay when this is what’s already happening in our schools. Then he’ll say the only way to curb cheating in high school is to agree to his proposal to increase the police budget, so that kids will have more incentive to follow the rules.”
“That’s ridiculous. If anything, schools need more support to—”
“It won’t matter. Parents will want someone to blame, and Gibson won’t have any trouble making this Diane’s fault. Especially since her campaign manager is married to me, and this is happening where I work. I know how men like him think, Pat. If Diane pushes back, he’ll say she’s just trying to protect Veronica’s husband. If she doesn’t, he’ll say it’s because she knows he’s right.” Bill sighed. “Any chance we’ll be able to keep a lid on this, at least for a little while?”
Pat frowned. “You know I don’t like to embarrass the kids when stuff like this happens. I’ve never seen that help. But I can’t see any way to look into this without word getting around about what’s going on.”
Bill took another sip of his drink. It burned its way pleasantly down his throat, easing the tension in his belly. “Well, let’s start with Andy. Maybe we can get to the bottom of it before the rumor mill starts churning. At least get a better idea what we’re dealing with.”
“Tomorrow? I’ll bring him in here?”
“Yeah, that works.” Although the school had an official zero-tolerance policy when it came to cheating, the reality was that teachers each dealt with cheating in their own way. Lots of them liked to loop in the guidance counselor when having these conversations, so that Bill could play the good cop. Especially for teachers like Pat, who tended to intimidate the students simply by existing, it was helpful to have someone else there.
Pat drained his cup and tossed it into the plastic trash can by Bill’s desk. “Thanks, buddy,” he said, bracing his hands on his knees and rising. “I appreciate it.”
“Any time,” Bill said automatically.
Pat barked out one of his wolf laughs. “I hope not.”
Bill grinned. “Fair.”
“Veronica doing good? And the baby?”
“Yep. Millie’s walking now, saying a bunch of words. And Veronica is gearing up for Diane’s big debate this weekend.”
Pat’s mustache twitched, indicating a slight smile underneath the pile of coarse hair. “I hope she mops the floor with that soggy skid mark.”
“Oh, she will. Veronica’s actually been working with Diane on toning down her vocabulary just a little bit, so she doesn’t come across as too much smarter than him.”
Pat snorted. “Anyone who watches them for more than two seconds will tell she’s smarter than him. I mean, she’s a librarian and he’s a used-car salesman.”
“Yeah, but if the gap seems too wide, she comes across as snobby. It’s a delicate balancing act.”
“Politics, man. What a shit show.”
“You’re telling me.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
JUSTIN
Since I’m already staying at Mrs. Hanley’s house, I’m the one tasked with investigating her fire while Rose works on McMillain over at the high school. I spend most of Monday combing through the police report on the fire, along with every inch of the garage, while she’s in school.
I don’t know what I’m hoping to find, but the answer so far is . . . nothing. I’m no detective, but from where I sit, odds are not looking great for me getting back home.
If there even is a way back home.
I’m sitting on the couch in Mrs. Hanley’s living room, hunched over the coffee table as I pore over the file yet again next to a growing pile of Twinkie wrappers, when she sits next to me and plops down a plate holding a sandwich. Thick-cut roast chicken is piled high between slices of wheat bread. My mouth instantly starts watering.