Dinosaur Boy by Cory Putman Oakes Page A

nodded, as Sylvie frowned.
    â€œWho is Gwen Carmichael?”
    â€œA sixth-grader who died in a car accident last year,” I explained, as I took a bite of the molé-covered salad. It was spicy. Spicy enough that I felt my eyebrows shoot up in surprise as soon as it hit my tongue. Somewhere behind the spice, I thought I could also taste the chocolate. But maybe that was just my imagination. I swallowed before I continued.
    â€œWe basically didn’t even have school for two weeks after she died. We had special assemblies and meetings with crisis counselors, and we all had to make these fake roses out of tissue paper for her funeral. Stuff like that. It was all any of the teachers talked about for weeks.”
    â€œAnd Gwen wasn’t even in our grade,” Elliot pointed out. “There’s no way ten kids in our class have died and we haven’t heard anything about it.”
    Sylvie nodded and wrote Gwen Carmichael in block letters in her notebook.
    â€œSo the school made a big deal about a student dying,” she summed up. “But they haven’t done anything about the ten kids who got kicked out. Interesting.”
    â€œWhich means they didn’t die,” Elliot surmised, as he scraped a bit of dribbled sauce off his black Oregon State Beavers jersey.
    â€œ Or it means somebody is covering it up,” Sylvie countered.
    â€œCovering what up?” I asked, coughing a little bit after my second bite of molé. This was definitely a sauce that fought back when you ate it. But I didn’t mind. Mrs. Juarez was right. I had been getting a little bit tired of plain veggies all of the time.
    â€œWhatever happened to them,” Sylvie answered. “I’m not saying they all died. But Parker’s mom said she missed him. And if he’s still alive, he’s definitely somewhere where he doesn’t need any of his clothes. That’s weird. Can we all agree that that’s weird?”
    â€œIt’s weird,” Elliot agreed. “But what can we do about it?”
    â€œWe can find out what’s going on,” Sylvie said. Her expression was so determined that I could tell Elliot and I were already on board with her plan, whatever it was, whether we liked it or not.
    â€œWho do you think is covering it up?” I asked. “And why?”
    Sylvie tapped her pen against her chin.
    â€œI’m not sure about the why ,” she admitted. “But I think that part will be obvious, once we figure out the who .”
    â€œThen who is covering this up?” I asked again. “And do we even know what this is?”
    â€œ This is a confusing conversation,” Elliot muttered, chewing.
    â€œThe obvious who is Principal Mathis,” Sylvie said. “She’s the one who is kicking all these kids out in the first place, right?”
    â€œShe’s the principal. It’s kind of her job,” I pointed out. I suddenly felt defensive on Principal Mathis’s behalf. She was, after all, going to a lot of trouble to defend me against the kids who were making my life miserable.
    â€œYeah, but if anyone knows what’s happening to them, it’s got to be Principal Mathis,” Elliot agreed. “Even if she’s not the one doing it, principals know those kinds of things, right? They have files and stuff ?”
    â€œWe need to find a way to sneak into her office,” Sylvie decided.
    â€œWhat!” I exclaimed. “Why can’t we just ask her?”
    Sylvie and Elliot exchanged that’s stupid looks.
    â€œIf she’s hiding something, she’s not just going to come out and tell us what it is,” Sylvie informed me.
    â€œWe’re just kids,” Elliot reminded me. “I doubt she’d talk to us about other students. Even if she’s not hiding anything.”
    â€œI vote that we sneak into her office and see what we can find,” Sylvie said.
    â€œI vote that too,” Elliot agreed,