Chapter 2 - Nine Raised Hands
The assistant principal arrived six minutes later.
By then, nobody in Room 214 had left.
Daniel had insisted the students remain together until another administrator could hear them.
Mrs. Holloway stood near her desk with her arms crossed.
Mason sat beside Caleb.
He had wiped his cheek twice even though there was nothing visible there anymore.
The humiliation remained.
Assistant Principal Rebecca Sloan entered with the school counselor, Teresa Grant.
“What happened?”
Mrs. Holloway answered immediately.
“A parent interrupted classroom discipline.”
Daniel stared at her.
“Discipline?”
Sloan noticed the camera cable.
“Why is that unplugged?”
Mrs. Holloway paused.
“It malfunctioned.”
Caleb laughed once.
It wasn’t amusement.
It was disbelief.
“She unplugged it.”
Mrs. Holloway turned toward him.
“Caleb—”
Sloan lifted one hand.
“Don’t.”
The room went quiet.
Sloan looked at the students.
“Did anyone see Mrs. Holloway disconnect the camera?”
Almost every hand rose.
Mrs. Holloway’s jaw tightened.
Sloan glanced at Daniel.
Then at Mason.
“Mason, are you injured?”
“No.”
“Did Mrs. Holloway strike you?”
“No.”
Caleb rubbed his cheek.
Sloan noticed.
“Did she strike you?”
Caleb hesitated.
“Yes.”
Mrs. Holloway snapped, “He stepped aggressively toward me.”
“I walked between her and Mason.”
“Because he was interfering with classroom management.”
Daniel stared at Sloan.
“Is making a fifteen-year-old kneel considered classroom management here?”
Sloan’s face stiffened.
“No.”
Mrs. Holloway looked suddenly less certain.
Counselor Grant pulled a chair beside Mason.
“Why were you told to kneel?”
Mason glanced at Mrs. Holloway.
Daniel saw the fear.
“You can answer,” he said quietly.
Mason swallowed.
“Because I didn’t attend the summer program.”
Sloan blinked.
“The Leadership Advancement Program?”
Mason nodded.
Something changed in Sloan’s expression.
Only slightly.
Daniel caught it.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing.”
Sloan looked at Mrs. Holloway.
The teacher stared back.
Daniel filed the moment away.
Grant asked, “Has anything like this happened before?”
Mason started to say no.
Then Caleb touched his arm.
Mason stopped.
Caleb looked at him.
“Tell them.”
Mason’s stomach tightened.
Daniel leaned closer.
“Son?”
Mason stared at the floor.
“She made me stand facing the wall last month.”
“For what?”
“I asked why our volunteer hours were different on the school website.”
Sloan’s eyes sharpened.
“What do you mean different?”
Mason finally looked up.
“The summer program website said our class completed almost four thousand volunteer hours.”
Daniel frowned.
“That seems high.”
“It is.”
Mason looked at Sloan.
“I calculated it.”
Mrs. Holloway said, “He is obsessed with irrelevant details.”
Mason continued.
“There were forty-two students registered. The program lasted five weeks. Even if every student did four hours every weekday, that would only be forty-two hundred hours.”
Sloan nodded slowly.
“So?”
“Most students weren’t there every day.”
Caleb spoke.
“Some stopped going after the first week.”
Mason continued.
“But the website showed almost full attendance.”
Mrs. Holloway stepped forward.
“That is administrative reporting, Mason. You have no understanding of how service credits are calculated.”
Daniel looked at her.
“Then explain it.”
She ignored him.
Sloan asked Mason, “How did you see the attendance records?”
“They were on her desk.”
Mrs. Holloway’s voice sharpened.
“He went through confidential documents.”
“I didn’t.”
“You photographed them.”
Everyone looked at Mason.
Daniel frowned.
“Did you?”
Mason hesitated.
Then reached into his backpack.
Mrs. Holloway moved.
Too quickly.
Sloan stepped between them.
“Mason?”
He removed his phone.
“I took three pictures.”
Mrs. Holloway’s face went pale.
“When?”
“September third.”
He opened the images.
Daniel leaned closer.
There were printed spreadsheets.
Student names.
Dates.
Hours.
Signatures.
Mason zoomed in.
“Look.”
Sloan did.
Several signatures were identical.
Not similar.
Identical.
Repeated across different student names.
Sloan’s expression hardened.
Mrs. Holloway said, “Templates.”
Mason shook his head.
“These are supposed to be student signatures.”
Daniel looked from the phone to the teacher.
“How much money was tied to this program?”
Nobody answered.
Daniel asked again.
“How much?”
Sloan exhaled.
“The district received a community achievement grant.”
“How much?”
Sloan stared at the floor.
“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
The classroom became silent.
Mason felt his heart begin to pound.
Mrs. Holloway said carefully, “That money did not go to me.”
Daniel turned.
“I didn’t say it did.”
Her eyes flickered.
And Daniel knew.
She had answered a question he had not asked.
Sloan reached for the phone.
“Mason, I need copies of those pictures.”
Mrs. Holloway stepped closer.
“Those photographs were obtained improperly.”
Daniel blocked her path.
“They’re staying with my son.”
Sloan nodded.
“We can make copies.”
Daniel studied the assistant principal.
“Who administers the grant?”
Sloan did not answer immediately.
Daniel’s suspicion deepened.
“Rebecca?”
Mrs. Holloway looked at her.
Sloan finally spoke.
“The program director submits the records.”
Daniel glanced at Holloway.
“And who is the program director?”
No one needed to answer.
Mason already knew.
Mrs. Holloway was.
But Sloan added something Mason did not know.
“The final reports are approved by the district coordinator.”
“Who?”
Sloan looked toward the open classroom door.
May you like
Then said quietly,
“Mrs. Holloway’s husband.”
