His family got into a car crash -- that’s all he remembered. He had stayed in the hospital for three agonizing weeks, the accident being the worst the paramedics had seen in years. A huge logging truck carrying twenty tons of timber collided with his family’s Volkswagen. His doctor said he was beyond lucky to be alive, that it was a miracle. But he couldn’t be that lucky -- he had no one left. Until a week ago, when the Hamptons took him in. But even then, he didn’t feel like he belonged.
No matter how hard Ronan tried to appreciate the Hamptons, he couldn’t; they didn’t seem to like him either. Harry, the only other child in the house, called him
(which he insisted was short for Ronan but still) and left rotten fruit in his dresser. He didn’t know Mr. Hampton well -- only that his name was Curt and he liked to rock climb. Miss Hampton (who insisted he call her Shanna) made him vacuum the giant house every day after school. Ugh. School.
School was a truck and Ronan was the deer caught in the headlights. Sometimes, he could get out of class by going to his counselor, Mr. Clemens. But most of the time, he had to sit through eight periods of boring, friendless bleh.
    * * * * * *
Ronan woke up especially late this morning. He rushed into the bathroom, hastily brushed his teeth and ran his fingers through his hair. Grabbing a plain gray T-shirt that smelled of decaying peach, Ronan quickly changed. With his backpack slung over one shoulder, he ran out the front door. Harry was sitting in his Jeep -- which he just got for his twentieth birthday because a Ford Fusion wasn’t good enough -- texting on his iPhone 6S Plus. Stupid Harry.
Being the only one in his neighborhood still in junior high, Ronan had the whole bus stop to himself. Just as he got to the corner, the giant yellow bus turned onto his street. The bus came to a screeching halt, and the doors opened with a whoosh of compressed air. Ronan boarded and planted himself in a seat near the front. He turned to the window and didn’t move for the rest of the ride.
When he got to homeroom, Ronan took his seat in the front of the classroom. Kids all around him chattered with gossip. Soon Mr. Boucher walked in and clapped his wrinkly hands twice. Eventually, everyone got quiet and he took his place at his desk and turned on his computer. Ronan checked his watch. Exactly 7:47. It was the same routine every morning. Except today, Mr. Boucher grabbed his glasses and looked closely at his computer.
“Ronan Holbrook,” he said in a small, tired voice. At the sound of his name, Ronan’s head snapped up from his watch. “Mr. Clemens wants to see you,” he finished. Ronan stood silently, grabbed his backpack, and headed out the door.
Normally, Ronan would have been thankful for the opportunity to skip class and go to counseling, but this seemed odd. He had never been called up in homeroom -- always in fifth or sixth period. When he reached Mr. Clemens’s door, he hesitated to open it. Something didn’t feel right. He recognized it as the same feeling he got before the accident -- like he could sense the danger. Pushing that thought from his mind, Ronan opened the door. He entered the room to find Mr. Clemens sitting in one of the small, blue student chairs with his head in his hands. He breathed a loud sigh and looked up at Ronan.
    * * * * * *
“Look. Ronan,” Mr. Clemens started. Ronan was sitting in an identical blue chair directly across from him now, and he stared him straight in the eye. “I know losing your family was difficult and moving schools was a challenge. But I’m sure the Hamptons have made you feel very welcome and accepted you into their family.” Ronan had to try extremely hard not to scoff at that statement. Instead, he kept a straight face and stared blankly into the counselor’s eyes, now only about a foot and a half away. “Something has come up. Their son, Harry, has gotten into some trouble. I’m going to be straight with you, Ronan.” Behind his back, Ronan silently crossed his fingers, careful to not move his face. “You can’t stay with the Hamptons any longer,” Mr. Clemens finished, looking sadly into Ronan’s eyes. “After this week, you’ll be heading to Hampshire County Boarding School in New Hampshire.” Ronan stayed quiet, fearing that if he spoke, he’d wake up from this incredible dream. “Ronan,” Mr. Clemens said, “On Friday, have everything packed… I’m driving you to New Hampshire.” Ronan nodded and stood, ending the conversation, and silently walked towards the door.
Ronan didn’t really think about that sentence until he was sitting back in class. Why would Mr. Clemens be driving him?
   * * * * * *
The next three days came and went, uneventful. Mr. Clemens didn’t call him up to his office, so he was stuck reading Shakespeare in English. He sensed that somehow, everyone in class had already found out about him leaving. It didn’t take long for rumors spread at this school.
   * * * * * *
On Friday morning, Ronan woke up to his alarm clock. He had packed all his things into his backpack the night before. When he got downstairs, he expected Mrs. Hampton to give him a hug or tell him she was sorry, but all she did was hand him his lunch and tell him to have a good day. And he was thankful. He grabbed his lunchbox and ran out the door, down the stairs, across the yard, all the way to the bus stop -- and not once did he look back.
    * * * * * *
He went straight to Mr. Clemens office, but paused in front of his door. Did he really want to go to New Hampshire? Well, he argued, he didn’t have a choice. It was New Hampshire or the street.
He opened the door to Mr. Clemens saying, “Do  you really think he’s… oh wait he’s here now… okay… yeah… bye.” Then in one quick maneuver, he spun around and grabbed his car keys and headed for the door. Ronan followed him to his car, a silver SUV, and got in the front seat without a word.
The drive from Boston to Hampshire Country was an hour and a half long. Most of the time was filled with silence, but Mr. Clemens did mention few things about his new school.
“So this Hampshire
place is a boarding school for boys who may need counseling or just tutoring to get them back on track. I’ve only been there a few times and never got a very good feel for the place, but I know they have excellent teachers and counselors. Their principal’s name is Mr. Amberry and he may seem strange, but he is a very skilled, capable man. Just remember that no matter what, try hard and have fun.”
Another twenty minutes or so passed before Ronan broke the awkward silence. He had been thinking -- and worrying. “Umm, Mr. Clemens, I don't think I can do this. I’ve never been on my own and I don’t know what I’ll do once I get there.” Panic started to build up inside of him, and he blurted out, “I can’t do this!! Turn around. Oh god. No, I can’t do this. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t! I just want my family back!” Tears started to well up in Ronan’s eyes, and Mr. Clemens pulled over to the side of the road.
“Ronan, It’s okay. You’ll be fine. There will be lots of boys there that can help you find your way around and show you how things are done. And I’m sure there will be lots of  people in the same boat as you. You’ll make friends, and those friends can help you through. You’ll be fine. I promise.”
And with that, Ronan shut up. He didn’t want to argue about this, so instead, he looked out the window and tried to think of other things. And after a few minutes, he fell asleep.
   * * * * * *
Ronan woke to the screech of the SUV pulling into the school parking lot. He tried hard not to show panic, but his mind was racing, his palms sweaty. Mr. Clemens must have sensed this, because he said, “Ronan, don’t panic. You’re fine. Just come with me.” Ronan hopped out of the passenger side and then followed Mr. Clemens all the way to the principal’s office, where he was left to sit and talk one-on-one with Mr. Amberry.
It was the classic speech about how great their school was and all this stuff about who knows what. Ronan just nodded every few sentences and stared at the tattoo on Mr. Amberry’s neck. It was like one of those symbols you see on a warning sign -- the one with three triangles and a circle in the middle. This man was definitely strange.
   * * * * * *
The next week went by in a blur. Ronan never got the chance to just sit and battle with his thoughts. He had made one new friend, a major accomplishment in his mind. His name was Nathan, he was a new student, and he was also in seventh grade. They had the same schedule, except for Nathan had PE third period instead of computers. For once in his life, Ronan felt like he had an actual friend. Not a backstabbing, talking-behind-your-back “friend”, like some people he could recall.
   * * * * * *
He decided to come early that Monday. Something had made him get out of bed and take a shower an hour early. It was the fourth week Ronan had been going to Hampshire
. Nathan had since gotten his schedule changed to be in Miss Simmons’ computer class with him (something only a true friend would do), and as a result, Ronan’s grade had slipped to a C minus. He was talking during class and continually not turning his work in. Before the accident, Ronan had always payed attention in school and for the most part had gotten A’s. So he came in early.
After walking from the dormitory (really just a bunch of square 10x10 rooms next to each other), Ronan found the door to the seventh grade building to be unlocked. The hallways were empty of course, nothing but a cricket hiding somewhere, screeching repeatedly. Ronan looked down at his feet drifting over the dirty white floor tiles, as he thought of what he might say.
.
He realized that he already knew why his grade was low and what assignments he hadn’t turned in. Why did he get up so early and come here? He didn’t need anything from the teacher. Actually, he didn’t even want to talk to the teacher. (She was kind of a jerk.) Just then, he heard voices coming from down the hall.
Instantly, he recognized one of the voices as Miss Simmons. Ronan decided it would be awkward to run into a teacher at school at 5 AM, so he ducked into a nearby bathroom, which he soon realized was marked with the
sign. It had to be a sign of his luck, as it was an all-boys school with only a half dozen or so female teachers. Peeking out, he watched as the two got closer. Next to Miss Simmons was a man of approximately the same height, but looked to be around the age of twenty. He clearly hadn’t shaved in a while and his hair was all greasy. They were still chattering, but not loud enough for Ronan to hear. When they reached about twenty feet away, Ronan could start to pick up on the conversation.
The man said in a surprisingly familiar voice, “You know we can't keep doing this. The police are onto us and I don't sell to kids."
"I know, but please just one last time. Nathan is a good kid, just one more. And I know for a fact his parents live in a huge house in Boston. I'm sure they would be willing to do anything to get this." They reached a door marked
and went inside, making sure to lock the door behind them.
It seemed like something that would happen in a movie. Ronan was aghast to say the least. Were they talking about Nathan? And what were they selling? What was going
?
   * * * * * *
Ronan found himself in the principal’s office. Not because he was searching for answers, because he had stayed standing in the doorway in the girl’s bathroom until school started.  Apparently, a teacher had walked in and almost fainted, so now he was getting suspension for the rest of the day. Good, now he could think without being disturbed. And without facing Nathan.
Turns out, detention at this school still requires doing schoolwork anyways. Ronan nearly fell asleep a few times, both from boredom and waking up so early. But he did come up with a plan (given it was a pretty pathetic plan, but still). He was going to act completely normal... like nothing had happened. And he was not going to mention it to Nathan. If it was his business, he assured himself, Nathan would have already told him about it.
The following week went exactly how Ronan’s plan called for. He didn’t mention the incident or give any hint that he was suspicious of Nathan. Nothing happened that would arouse any skepticism had he not been walking down that hallway so early in the morning.
Three weeks later, Wednesday after school, Ronan got a letter from Mr. Clemens. It was in a fancy gold envelope that you would expect to get from a king. He fully expected a mandatory letter about how he was doing at his new school. He opened the letter.
The first thing Ronan did was confront Nathan. How could he not bring this up? This was not the kind of thing that you forget about. When he got to Nathan's room, he found him lying on his bed, reading a letter in the same fancy envelope.
Nathan looked up from his letter and coldly said, "How could you not tell me we were supposed to do this?"
Ronan froze. "How could you not tell
?" he whispered back.
Nathan's eyes got extremely wide (they looked like they were going to pop out of his skull). "Well, I guess we're in the same boat," he sighed, then perked up and asked, "Are the letters the same? I mean, do we both have the same job?"
Ronan took his letter out of his pocket, read the whole thing out loud. When he was done, he looked up at Nathan.
"Jesus. This is some messed up stuff," Nathan said when he was done. “Mine is basically the same. So do you know this Clemens dude?"
"Yeah, he was my counselor at my old school." He stopped there, not wanting to go into why he needed counseling. He realized that no one at this school really talked about life back at home. "Hey where do your parents live?" He asked just to confirm.
“Massachussetts,” he replied and looked Ronan straight in the eye. “Why?”
“Wait, Boston?” Ronan persisted.
“Yes, why do you want to know?”
“I kind of eavesdropped on Miss Simmons and this other guy talking about it,” Ronan answered, trying to sound as casual as possible.
“Dude, why didn’t you tell me about that?” Nathan asked, seeming oddly excited.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the first letter?” Ronan shot back, then tried to cover up with a half-smile.
“I don’t know it just… I don’t know. What did they say?”
“That the police is onto them and that they can’t keep doing it,” Ronan recalled. And then the conversation was pretty much over, so he added, “Well, see you Friday,” and left Nathan’s room.
He realized walking back that they should have talked about what they were going to do on Friday. Oh well, they would figure something out.
  * * * * * *
Friday morning, Ronan woke up to his alarm clock. 6:30. He got dressed and left the dorm area, as they had planned the day before. Nathan, already waiting for him, handed over the orange bottle that was mentioned in both letters, explaining that someone left it on his dresser last night. Ronan took the bottle, barely containing his excitement. They entered the hallway and walked straight to Miss Simmons’ classroom, finding it locked. They had anticipated this challenge -- Nathan retrieved a Starbucks coffee from his bag, and Ronan took three pills from the bottle. After making sure the pills dissolved into the coffee, Ronan took out the note he had prepared (a love-letter from Mr. Amberry, the principal), and placed it in a paper bag along with the drink. They left it just outside her door, to make sure she saw it, and left the hallway. As they were walking back towards the exit, Ronan remembered that Miss Simmons and that man had gone into a room after their conversation. Looking around, he quickly spotted it and ran to see if it was unlocked. It wasn’t, of course.
“They went in here,” Ronan whispered, careful not to arouse any teachers.
“Who?” Nathan asked.
“Miss Simmons and that guy. After they finished talking about your transplant.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Did she use a key to get in? Last time?” Nathan asked.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“So after she passes out…”
“Yeah, we should at least look. But don’t think she would hide stuff in a place where all the teachers can access.”
Then they went back to their dorms so they wouldn’t get questioned by any teachers.
  * * * * * *
Third period, Ronan and Nathan came in for computers class. Miss Simmons seemed normal, except for a big smile plastered across her face. Ronan glanced over at her desk. Her coffee cup was still full, but the note was lying atop her students’ graded papers. Everyone got situated and started their assignments. Miss Simmons left the room with her full coffee cup and what appeared to be the note they had left. A minute later, she returned with a now-steaming-hot coffee, but no note. He figured she probably threw it away so no one would find it. She sat down at her desk and started to drink while grading more papers. Ronan glanced over at Nathan and smirked. Next period was lunch and Miss Simmons didn’t have classes for the rest of the day. They were moving in for the kill.
That was, until lunch. Nathan and this other kid, James, got into a huge fight. They started throwing punches just as the lunch ladies rushed over to separate them. Nathan was sent up to the office, and was told he couldn’t return to class for the rest of the day. Ronan was on his own.
He ran to Miss Simmons room, prepared to ask about his grades if she was not passed out yet, but when he opened the door, she was slumped over on her desk, not moving except for her breathing. Ronan ran up beside her and tapped her shoulder to make sure she was out. After she didn’t respond, he looked around for some books. Nothing but computer manuals and documents on technology. Next he checked her drawers for anything that looked suspicious. All that was there were some paper clips and expo markers. On her desk lay a stack of student essays, halfway done being graded. As he turned away, something caught his eye. He whipped his head around to a piece of paper at the edge of her desk. He realized it was the note he and Nathan had left her. Wait, didn’t she leave that somewhere else? When she left class earlier?
He eyed the clock. It was 11:46. He didn’t know how long the pills were supposed to work, but he hoped they would last till at least one. He didn’t think he could contain the woman without someone else’s help.
Then he remembered the staff room, and looked around for some keys. He quickly spotted them on a keychain attached to the teacher’s jeans. He unfastened it, stuffed it into his pocket, and ran down the hallway. He passed one teacher, and all she said was
before he reached the door -- locked. He pulled out the keys, about fifteen, and started going through them one by one. On his fourth attempt, he heard footsteps down the hallway. He turned to see that same teacher he had just passed coming back his way. She hadn’t noticed him; she was busy reading a paper. Ronan found himself in the same ladies restroom, having deja vu. Just as he was about to peek out into the hallway, the door flew open and smacked him in the face. He flew back and landed in a heap on the tiled floor. The bottle of pills he had been carrying in his pocket flew across the floor and made an extremely loud clattering noise. The lady screamed and ran to his side, clearly unsure whether to reprimand him or help him.
After a minute, she managed to assist him to his feet, and he turned to her and said, “Can we just pretend this didn’t happen?”
She nervously looked around to see if anyone else was in the bathroom, then looked down at her feet. Silently, she nodded three times and then opened the door for Ronan to leave. He did so, eager to get away from the awkward situation.
He then headed back to Miss Simmons room to check on her. And to wait for the teacher to finish using the restroom. Miss Simmons hadn’t moved and after waiting five minutes, Ronan returned to the door.
But when he got there, he heard a voice coming from the ladies room. The teacher was still in there, talking on the phone. “Yes… She’s passed out. But she’s breathing… No she didn’t have a scratch… No one that I saw… Okay.”
Ronan panicked. He tore the keys out of his pocket and picked up where he left off. After three keys, the handle could be turned, and the door opened. He raced inside and shut the door behind him.
He didn’t dare turn on the light, so he felt his way through the room and hid behind what he thought was a stack of chairs. He looked at the screen on his digital watch, which was glowing in the darkness. It was 12:32, only half an hour left to find evidence.
Taking a chance, Ronan shuffled around the room until he felt a light switch. He flipped it and a second later the room was illuminated with a bluish light coming from a single light fixture. The room was smaller than he had imagined a moment ago in the dark, only about half the size of his dorm room. Along one wall was a kitchenette with floor-to-ceiling cabinets. On the countertop was a microwave and a coffee maker.
Ronan decided to first check all the cabinets. They were completely empty except for some coffee cups and stirs, and a few rolls of paper towels. On the opposite side of the room, there was a mini fridge, three stacks of chairs, and a table. The fridge was mostly empty with a few cans of Coke that looked like they were from decades ago. The stacks of chairs and the table were dusty beyond belief. It appeared that no one had been in there for quite some time, but Ronan knew otherwise. He checked between all the chairs, then moved on to the table. He looked underneath and on all the legs, but couldn’t find anything. He thought about this morning, how she had left with her coffee to heat it up, but didn’t return with the same slip of paper. On a hunch, Ronan ran over to the microwave. He found the open button, pushed it, and the door sprung open. Inside were dozens of slips of paper similar to the size of the note they had left with the coffee.
He carefully took the top one off the stack and studied it. Ronan felt a huge smile across his face. He had found a stack of Miss Simmons’ receipts. Receipts from all the patients she ever sold to. He had hit the jackpot.
Just as Ronan had found the treasure, the door to the door burst open, letting in so much light, Ronan went blind for a moment. After his eyes adjusted, he saw that it was the police and, relieved, came running out. But when he reached them, they grabbed his arms and shoved him up against the wall.
“DO NOT RESIST! DO NOT RESIST!” they chanted as they smashed him harder into the wall. “WE KNOW YOU DID IT TO HER DO NOT RESIST!”
“Did what!?! And to who!?!” Ronan squeaked out.
“WE FOUND THE PILLS YOU USED TO DRUG HER DO NOT RESIST!”
“OKAY I’M NOT RESI-oof… ” They smashed him up against the wall and put handcuffs around his wrists. They proceeded to drag him out to their car and throw him in the back seat. He fought back in any way he could think of. He just needed to get those receipts. But nothing worked.
He had given up, they wouldn’t listen to him. He just waited in the back of the cop car as he watched an ambulance come and go.
Then finally, around two o’clock, some more cops showed up. They looked surprised at all that was going on. Then it hit him -- those were the policemen that were in on his plan. He tried to draw attention to himself, but the cops never even looked his way. All the cops who had just arrived started talking gesturing towards the school. Then the others started talking and soon they were all walking towards him. He knew that soon it would be resolved.
And he was right. He was let out of the car and the handcuffs were removed. Then, he led the policemen to the staff room and the pile of receipts that belonged to Miss Simmons. After the police inspected the receipts, they found that the man who had assisted her was named Harold Hampton! AS IN HARRY. Ronan couldn’t believe he hadn’t recognized him!
That night, Miss Simmons awoke in the hospital and was arrested. Ronan gave the police Harry’s address and he was also taken into custody. Ronan couldn’t have been prouder -- he had caught two evil criminals!
The following day, the Hamptons called to say they had been complete jerks and wanted him back now (at least that’s how he interpreted it). But he didn’t want to leave -- Nathan was his best friend and he couldn’t leave him behind. But Mr. and Miss Hampton were persistent and finally won him over with the deal that Ronan and Nathan would get to see each other every weekend, no matter the circumstances. And so he went back.
  * * * * * *
Apparently, word spread quickly about the arrests and soon it was the #1 story on every news channel across the country. Mr. Clemens turned out to be the head of a multi-million-dollar company that specializes in organ transplants. Ronan found himself growing in fame. At school, he was no longer ignored, and actually made a few friends. He actually -- believe it or not -- got to meet the president and was recognized as a national hero.