173 · LITTLE BROTHER
“What do you have to say for yourself?” “That wasn’t teaching, it was propaganda. She told us that the Constitution didn’t matter!” “No, she said it wasn’t religious doctrine. And you attacked her like some kind of fundamentalist, proving her point. Marcus, you of all people should understand that everything changed when the bridge was bombed. Your friend Darryl — ” “Don’t you say a goddamned word about him,” I said, the anger bubbling over. “You’re not fit to talk about him. Yeah, I understand that everything’s different now. We used to be a free country. Now we’re not.” “Marcus, do you know what ‘zero-tolerance’ means?” I backed down. He could expel me for “threatening behavior.” It was supposed to be used against gang kids who tried to intimidate their teachers. But of course he wouldn’t have any compunctions about using it on me. “Yes,” I said. “I know what it means.” “I think you owe me an apology,” he said. I looked at him. He was barely suppressing his sadistic smile. A part of me wanted to grovel. It wanted to beg for his forgiveness for all my shame. I tamped that part down and decided that I would rather get kicked out than apologize. “Governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, that whenever any form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its foundation on such principles, and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness.” I remembered it word for word. He shook his head. “Remembering things isn’t the same as understanding them, sonny.” He bent over his computer and made some clicks. His printer purred. He handed me a sheet of warm Board letterhead that said I’d been suspended for two weeks. “I’ll email your parents now. If you are still on school property in thirty minutes, you’ll be arrested for trespassing.” I looked at him. “You don’t want to declare war on me in my own school,” he said. “You can’t win that war. GO!” I left.