Mr. Francis picked up the backpack, pulled the tag up, and read, “Arcade Livingston.” He glared at me. “This is your backpack?”

Mr. Dooley gave me a knowing, but confused glance.

He knows it’s mine. He saw it last year, every day for those last six weeks when I attended PS 23. He often commented on it.

“Yes, sir,” I said. “But I’m not the ringleader. I don’t cheat. I lost that backpa—”

“Arcade,” Mr. Francis’s face was as serious as could be, “go gather your things and come with me to the office.”

Chapter 32
Suspended!

Since Wiley was caught with the cheating materials, he got a zero on the test, with no chance of making it up.

Since I was implicated as the “cheating ringleader,” I got a three-day suspension.

I lay on my bed that afternoon, staring at the ceiling.

“I wish I could live on the moon,” I said to the empty room, “away from every other living soul.” The Triple T Token gave a sizzling jolt against my chest. I cupped the pure gold in my palm. “No, not now. I can’t run away from my trials. But do you still believe I’m the right kid for the job? What kind of reputation must I have?”

There was a knock at the door.

“Go away, Zoe.”

The door opened. It was my mom and dad. I dropped the token inside my shirt and I sat up.

“Who were you talking to, bud?” Dad came over and sat at the foot of my bed.

“Well, let’s see, it couldn’t have been my dog, because he’s lost. And it couldn’t be my best friend, because . . . well . . . he’s lost too. I guess I was just talking to the air. That’s all I have left.”

Mom smiled a little and sat down on the edge of my bed. “Well, I heard what you said about your reputation, and I’d like to respond to the question, if you don’t mind.”

I ran my hand through my hair. “Fine with me.”

“Your father and I both believe you are not a cheater. We are anxiously waiting for all the facts to come in and hope you will be proven innocent as soon as your principal interviews a few of the students. Take heart, Arcade. Your reputation hasn’t changed with the people who love you the most.”

I started to cry a little. “But Wiley lied about me! He stole my backpack in the subway and used it to pass the tests around. I saw him break the lock on Mr. Dooley’s desk. He’s the ringleader! How could he do that to me? I’ve been nothing but nice to him!”

My stomach churned. I remembered the poster of Wiley that I brought back from Picture Post, the one that read: WHINY OVERTON–DUMBEST KID IN THIRD GRADE.