5. Punishment

PUNISHMENT

The next day, the boy rode the bus to Shady Glen. Not because the social worker had told him to go there, mind you, or because he was scared of the judge, but because of something even worse. He didn't have anything else to do.

The day before had proved that. He'd been exhilarated with relief when he'd left Shady Glen, a feeling that lasted exactly twelve minutes, which was how long it took him to walk down the driveway to the street and catch the 54 bus, which was the line that went back to his aunt's house.

His aunt still worked, but his uncle had retired early because of a bad back and would be home. He didn't have any friends to hang out with, and the few acquaintances he had made had dumped him after the Incident. He wasn't allowed to go anywhere near the school, even in summer when there were no classes, so he couldn't play tetherball at the empty courts. He couldn't go to the Dairy Queen and get a Blizzard because he didn't have enough money, and also because the Dairy Queen was near Toby Crawford's house and he wasn't supposed to be anywhere near there, either. So he'd taken the bus to the station and sat in a hard plastic chair for five long hours until it was the time he was meant to get back to his aunt's.

This time when he arrived at Shady Glen, he didn't have to look for Ms. Sandler. She was waiting for him.

"You got me in trouble!" she said as soon as he walked through the automatic glass doors.

"I was just doing what you told me to do," the boy said, more than a little flustered by the girl's indignation. He was used to being on the giving end of this kind of behavior, which generally kept him from being on the receiving end.

"And if I told you to jump off a building, would you do that?" she asked.

It was bad enough when adults talked liked this, but kids? "If it got me away from you, I sure would," he replied.

When two red circles appeared on her cheeks, the boy felt a wave of satisfaction. He was back on the giving end.

The satisfaction was short-lived. "Come with me," Maya-Jade said, flouncing in front of him, her clipboard going boing, boing against her hip.

Reluctantly, he followed her back to the closet where he'd knocked over the adult diapers. She pulled a large red bucket with a white handle down from a shelf and then filled it with hot water. Then she grabbed a huge jug of bleach and poured in several glugs. His eyes began to sting.

She wiped her hands on a rag before handing the rag to the boy and announcing, "You're on germ duty."

"I'm on what duty?"

"Germ duty. Clean off every doorknob, every hall rail, every place a person might touch in the building."

"You can't make me do that."

"I most certainly can. Mrs. Winston said I can tell you to do whatever I want."

"Aren't there, like, cleaning people here to do that?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied.

"Can—can I do something else?"

"Oh, you mean like helping me with bingo?"

"Yes!" he said, relief flooding him. The bleach was already making his throat hurt. He was sensitive to it. Had a hard time swimming in chlorinated pools, which would've been more of a problem if he'd had more chances to swim in pools.

"I'm sorry, but that job has been taken," Maya-Jade said, not even bothering to hide her glee.

"Is this some sort of punishment?"

He expected her to say no, and then say something about opportunities, or any of the balderdash the grown-ups always told him.

But she just rolled her eyes and said, "Yep."