Page 105 of The Corruption of Hollis Brown

Timothy narrowed his eyes at her, before turning back to Hollis.

“I’m telling you ’cause if he acts up again, we don’t got nothing to do with it. We’ve tried to help, you’re always supposed to try to help. But now he’s on his own until he gets his shit together.” Timothy jerked his chin at Mrs. Feldman. “I’m done. Sorry about that.”

Walt and Hollis mulled about it for the rest of the day, but they didn’t see Jorge at all. Not in the hallways, not outside, not even in PE—the one class they had together.

Ten minutes before the bell rang for lunch, he was called to Mr. Feehan’s office.

Grieve

The principal looked exasperated, and again, Hollis was surprised by who else was there.

He should have guessed that this was where Jorge had been this whole time. He was sitting there in his gray sweatshirt and sweatpants, arms folded, chin tilted away from the door so he didn’t have to watch Hollis walk in. Skin still pink and scarred.

Who he didn’t expect to see was Clementine.

“Hollis,” Mr. Feehan said. “I’m sure you know what we’re all here for.”

Walt sat down next to Clementine.

“I don’t.”

Mr. Feehan sighed.

“Normally, things that occur off school grounds are none of my business, but you seem to be on a roll when it comes to creating new and exciting exceptions, Hollis Brown. Clementine Robertson has brought to my attention some kind of video of a fight that’s been circulating?”

“Oh,” Walt said. “Okay.”

God I hate her.

“In this fight, it brings to question a decent amount of the statements you made in this room about the history of bullying you’ve received. Namely, the frequency and your ability to . . . handle such things?”

“Isn’t it your job to handle stuff like this? I’ve gotten my ass kicked six ways from Sunday for four solid years, and the first time I’ve made it into this office for retribution it’s for a single punch for a fight that I didn’t start or even want to be in?” Hollis said, before Walt could stop him.

Mr. Feehan stared at him in silence until Hollis felt foolish.

“See, Hollis, I’m not exactly sure what to think. Because from where I’m sitting it looks like only two options are available to you. In the first, it’s a straightforward story about jealousy and luck in which you and your friends coordinated together to victimize Jorge for the purpose of humiliation because of his . . . unfortunate treatment of your friend Annie. Which I don’t condone, by the way.

“The second option, and much more concerning, is that you have, for some reason, been allowing many members of the student body to enact violence upon your person without getting the authorities—myself or any other teachers—involved, while being entirely capable of defending yourself. And this—”

Mr. Feehan held up Clementine’s phone.

“—is the only proof that you could, all along. Now you understand why this would be more concerning. ‘Mandated appointment with a social worker’ concerning, right, Hollis?”

Hollis glanced over at Jorge. He was still refusing to look at him.

“Why is he here?” Hollis asked instead of answering the principal’s question.

“Hollis.”

Walt gritted their teeth.

“I don’t want to talk about this with him here,” Walt said.

Mr. Feehan sighed. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re not in charge and I am. Answer the question, Hollis.”

Hollis glanced over at Clementine. She sneered at him.

Great.