The Rule of Threes, Marcy Campbell [short novels to read .TXT] 📗

pretend they “can’t hear you,” and he cupped his hand around his ear and made everybody yell louder. Some boys were really getting into it, standing up and screaming, “Noooooo!” while their faces got completely red, and their heads looked like they were going to explode. Honestly, it was embarrassing. I was glad Tony wasn’t here to see all this. If it was as easy as saying no, his mom wouldn’t be in the mess she’s in. I mean, sorry Daisy, but I’m not buying it.

Next, the officer held up a cloth doll that had a piece of cardboard attached to it that read “DRUGS.” He threw the doll to the other side of the gym. Then he let go of Daisy’s leash, and she was a blur, on top of the thing in two seconds. She shook it until the stuffing was flying out. It was kind of horrifying to watch, but no one could look away. When she got tired of shaking it, Daisy went to a corner by a bunch of soccer nets and chewed the doll more daintily. Pretty soon, she had an arm torn off.

The officer stepped back up to the mic. “You might think you kids are too young to hear this talk, but statistics show that one in six sixth graders, that’s sixth graders, people, has used a drug. That includes alcohol, kids, which is a drug, and don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

Some kids laughed and looked around at each other like they were trying to figure out who was that one in six. The cop asked if anyone had questions, and the school librarian, Mrs. Lloyd, came up to the bleachers holding a microphone in her right hand. With her left hand, she clutched at her knee with each step she took up the rickety wooden stairs. She gave the microphone to a boy on the other end of the gym whose hand was raised.

“Can you get addicted to markers? Smelling them, I mean?” he asked. A bunch of kids laughed, but he looked around with an expression that said, What? I’m serious.

Officer Bell held up his hand until everyone quieted down and said, “That’s a real question kids, don’t laugh. You can get a high from smelling things, like glue or markers or paints. It’s called huffing, and—”

Mr. Villanueva took a few steps toward the center of the gym. His arms were crossed, and he didn’t look especially happy with the substitute cop speaker. Daisy was still chewing in the corner. She had both arms off the doll now, and was working on a leg.

“Well, anyway,” Officer Bell said, “just don’t do that.”

A girl in a green sweater raised her hand, and Mrs. Lloyd went over to give her the mic. I forgot her name, but she was in my social studies class and was one of those kids who raised their hands to talk just because they wanted to hear their own voice.

She said, “My mom showed me an old commercial on YouTube about your brain being like a fried egg if you used drugs.”

“Yeah, I remember that,” the cop said. “Well, now, you kids don’t want to fry your brains, do you?”

“I don’t,” the girl said and sat back down, smiling.

Mr. Villanueva came farther out and held up his index finger. Officer Bell looked at him and nodded. “Okay, one more question, kids.”

A boy near Rachel raised his hand, and when Mrs. Lloyd gave him the mic, he wouldn’t stand up until the cop said, “Stand up, son, so I can hear you better.” The boy slowly stood, but looked down, his hair covering his eyes.

“What do you do if you see somebody who has, like, ODed or something?”

“That’s a very good question. Well, the first thing to do in an overdose situation is to call nine-one-one. Can all of you say that?”

“Nine-one-one,” a few kids mumbled, but everyone had really lost their energy at that point. Plus, the cop was treating us like babies. We’d known 911 since preschool.

The cop kept talking. “Once the police or ambulance gets there, we can use this spray. It’s pretty amazing, actually. It’s called Narcan, and it’s this stuff that can totally revive a person who’s overdosed. We just spray it into their nostrils. . . .” It sounded like the allergy stuff my mom squirted into her nose every morning.

“Ewww,” some kids said. Probably the same kids who’d said, “Awww” when the dog came out. Did they know any actual words? I was suddenly so cranky and hot and hungry, and I wanted to go home, even if Tony was there. I didn’t want to think about drugs or talk about drugs or watch a drug-sniffing dog tear a doll apart.

Claire leaned over and said to me, “My cousin works at the McDonald’s on Broad Street, and she said someone overdosed right in the bathroom, and the cops used that stuff, and it was like the person just came back to life, like they came back from the dead or something.”

I didn’t say anything. This was just more information I didn’t want or need. But it was crazy to think about. That McDonald’s was only a few blocks from my house. I went there with my parents in the summer to get Oreo McFlurries. Had Tony’s mom ever overdosed? What if Tony had seen it? My parents kept saying I had no idea what he’d been through, and of course they were right. And I didn’t know if I could ask. How would I even start a conversation like that? It definitely seemed like the kind of thing Tony wouldn’t want to talk about.

The cop was still going on about the Narcan stuff. “Everybody’s stocking it now, gotta be prepared.”

Mr. Villanueva quickly took the microphone. “Uh, thank you, Officer Bell,” he said. “Everyone, let’s thank the officer and Daisy.”

While we all clapped, Daisy hopped up and followed Officer Bell back out the side door. I noticed they’d left the doll, or what was