Circle of Silence by Carol M. Tanzman Page B

horrible school
cooking have seeped into the walls. The barfy cheese smell is something I’m sure
I’ll remember the rest of my life.
    The doors are locked. Marci stands on tiptoes and glances
through a rectangular glass window. She waves. After a few moments, a door is
pulled open.
    Shirley’s Jamaican-style braids, blond at the tips, are tied
back in a loose ponytail. A set of keys jangles against her tan uniform. She
gives us a quizzical look. “Lunch doesn’t start for another couple of
periods.”
    “We know.” Marci turns on the hundred-watt smile. “My friend
Val and I wanted to ask you a few questions for Campus
News .”
    “You want to put me on the TV?”
    “We’re trying to find out about MP,” I say. “You know, the
toilet bowl, the missing flag, the flyers. All those plastic body parts—”
    Shirley shakes her head. “I don’t know nothing about that!”
    “Wait! Can we turn the camera on while you talk? It’s for a
class.”
    She considers. “What do you want me to say?”
    “We don’t want you to say anything specific,” Marci explains.
“Val asks questions and you answer them however you want. Honestly. It’s like a
conversation. You can sit at a lunch table. Val will be right next to you.”
    “I guess.” Shirley pulls the rubber band off her hair. The
braids frame her face nicely. “Do I look okay?”
    “Absolutely.” I settle beside her and Marci starts recording.
“Good morning, Ms. Johnston.”
    She smiles. “Oh, now, I’m not a teacher. Call me Shirley.
Everyone else does.”
    “Okay, Shirley. You must have noticed strange things popping up
around school. Do you or any of the other custodians know anything about
it?”
    She shakes her head. “We show up to Irving like you kids, and
there they are. Pretty weird, huh?”
    “Yes. Do you think one of the other custodians is doing it? For
a joke? The stuff must be set up either after school or before it starts.
Custodians are the only ones here at those times.”
    Shirley’s braids shake. “Not true. Lots of teachers stay late.
Or come in early. The teachers at this school work really hard. I don’t think
you kids appreciate that.”
    “But don’t they have to be let in by you guys? The custodians,
I mean.”
    Again, her head shakes. “Teachers have two keys. One for the
front door and one for their classroom.”
    “Are you saying that MP’s a teacher?”
    “Oh no! I’m just saying the custodial staff aren’t the only
ones here before you kids show up. Or after you leave.” She glances at the round
wall clock. A steel grill protects its face. “That okay? I’ve got work to
do—”
    “One more question. Please. Custodians have master keys that
open student lockers, right?”
    She looks concerned. “Did something get stolen?”
    “Oh no! No. We’re not accusing anyone. In fact, it’s the
opposite. What if someone wanted to put something in someone’s locker?”
    Shirley blinks. “We couldn’t.”
    “Why not?”
    “We don’t know which locker belongs to which student.”
    “What if Mr. Wilkins gets worried that there’s something
dangerous inside one of them? You could open it, right?”
    “Yes. But he’d have to tell us which locker. ‘Open 247 for me, please, Shirley.’ I could do it, but
I wouldn’t know whose locker it is.” She stands. “Now, ladies, I really have to
get moving.”
    “Thanks for talking to us.”
    Out in the hallway, Marci sounds disappointed. “She wasn’t very
helpful.”
    “She was!” Unlike my friend, I’m excited. This is real
investigative reporting. “What we just discovered is that janitors don’t keep a
list of students and lockers. The next step is to find out who does!”
    “Mr. Wilkins,” Marci says. “At least, that’s what Shirley
implied. Unless someone spied on you from, like, across the hall.”
    “Think about it. Every person stands directly in front of his
locker to open it. Blocking it. If it’s not Tracy or Lawrence next to me, a
person