The Wikkeling by Steven Arntson Page A

the thirtieth systemwide percentile today in no small part because of your disobedience?”
    â€œWe’re sorry,” they said in unison.
    â€œSay it to yourselves, not to me,” said Ms. Span.
    Time crawled by. Ms. Span worked at her computer up front, putting together her materials for the following day. Once the buses had left, Gary gave Henrietta a significant look. Then he turned to the front of the room and said, loudly, “Mom?”
    Henrietta’s eyes widened. Ms. Span looked up, but didn’t remove her glasses—obviously surprised. She squinted at Gary, and then at Henrietta, and then at Gary again.
    â€œYes, Gary?” she said evenly.
    â€œCan we give Henrietta a ride home? Because she missed her bus, and, you know, we live right across the street from her.”
    Ms. Span removed her glasses. “Absolutely not,” she said. “I don’t know her parents at all. I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings.”
    Henrietta was dumbstruck, observing for the first time that Gary and Ms. Span had the exact same thick, black eyebrows that met in the middle.
    â€œWe could call her parents and ask,” said Gary.
    This, then, was it: Gary’s plan. Henrietta saw that for it to succeed, she’d have to help.
    â€œMy mom would appreciate it,” she said. “She’s probably working on dinnerright now. I can give you my number.” Henrietta reached into her pocket for her phone.
    â€œIt’s already in the school network,” said Ms. Span. Without another word, she dialed Henrietta’s house. “Hello. Is this Mrs. Gad-Fly?” she said. “Yes, that’s right. Henrietta’s teacher. My son and your daughter are both here for detention today due to some regretful misbehavior,” here she paused to glare out across the room at the two of them, “and they’ve missed their bus. Would it be convenient for you if I gave Henrietta a ride home? Gary has just pointed out that we live across the street from you.” There was a long pause. “Twenty minutes. It will be nice to meet you, too.” Ms. Span pocketed the phone and stood from her terminal. “We’d best get going.”
    â€œGreat!” said Gary. He looked at Henrietta and waggled his eyebrows. The two of them stepped into the hall while Ms. Span gathered her things.
    â€œShe’s your
mom
?” Henrietta whispered.
    â€œYeah,” said Gary. “No one knows, so don’t tell.” Their whispered voices echoed in the empty hallway, bouncing off the giant mural image of happy children below the words “S ENSIBLE , E FFICIENT , E DUCATION (S.E.E!)”
    â€œI won’t,” said Henrietta. She shook her head. “It’s so weird.”
    â€œTo you, maybe,” said Gary.
    Ms. Span emerged from the room and the three of them proceeded down the hall, following a yellow line on the floor through a set of doors and down a flight of stairs to the parking garage. “Henrietta, it will be interesting to meet your parents,” said Ms. Span. “I didn’t know Gary had told you I was his mother. You two must be good friends.”
    â€œWe are,” said Henrietta.
    â€œBecause we sit together,” said Gary. “I’ve been helping Henrietta bring up her scores. We’re best friends now.”
    As they approached Ms. Span’s car, a blue station wagon, a recorded voice issued from a speaker on the cement floor of the garage.
    â€œT HE SCHOOL DISTRICT IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY INJURY RECEIVED WHILE ENTERING, LEAVING, OR TRAVELING THROUGH THE PREMISES .”
    â€œCan Henrietta and I sit in the back?” said Gary, as Ms. Span unlocked the doors.
    â€œBuckle all of your seat belts,” said Ms. Span. They fastened themselves into the rear seats. The engine started and the car’s computer came online.
    â€œWHERE ARE YOU GOING?” it asked.
    â€œHome for Henrietta