He sometimes called himself Jackal, which is a pretty accurate description, since both he and the animal prey on smaller mammals. He’d been held back so many times he had a driver’s license, a car, a mustache, and a tattoo. Jack was like seventeen and still in ninth grade. This time they put me in upside down and I nearly passed out before the custodian unlocked my locker and dragged me down to Mr. I mean, he knew the answer, and I knew the answer, so what was the point? Bottom line, it was the second time I’d been locked in my locker by Jack Vranes and his friends that month. I was never sure if I was supposed to answer him or not. Dallstrom-he liked to ask questions that he already knew the answer to. Dallstrom said to me, his eyes half closed. “I believe this is the second time you’ve been in my office this month,” Mr. Dallstrom was big on punishing the victim. This was the second time that month I’d been called to his office for something someone else did to me. Dallstrom did not put the PAL in Principal. When I was in fifth grade our teacher told us ‘the easiest way to remember the difference between PRINCI PLE, (an underlying law or ethic) and PRINCI PAL, (the chief administrator of a school) is that the Principal is your PAL.’ Believe me, Mr. He also looks like he’s a hundred years old. Think of a pregnant Abraham Lincoln with no beard and a yellow toupee instead of a top hat and you get the picture. Dallstrom is a bald, thin scarecrow of a man with a poochy stomach. Then, after he’d said his piece, she would get all red-faced and sweaty, and remind us of how lucky we were to be led through the treacherous wilderness of high school by such a manly and steadfast defender of public education.
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Every time Dallstrom came over the PA system, she would furiously whack her baton on a music stand to quiet us. She had a picture of Dallstrom on her desk, which she sometimes stared at with soft, googly eyes. Dallstrom, which would be stating the obvious like saying, “breathing is important” or “Rice Krispies squares are the greatest food ever invented.” No one at Meridian was fond of Mr. And there I was in the very stinkiest part of that armpit-the principal’s office. If you ask me, ninth grade is the armpit of life. Dallstrom is the principal of Meridian High School, where I go to school. Dallstrom’s office is as good a place to begin as any. That secret is the reason we moved to Idaho in the first place. Something that scares people more than you would believe. There’s something else you don’t know about me. It’s no picnic having Tourette’s, but there are worse things that can happen to you-like having your dad die of a heart attack when you’re eight.
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If I’m really anxious, I’ll also clear my throat or make a gulping noise. I mostly just shrug and blink my eyes a lot. Most of us with Tourette’s don’t do that.
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Usually when you see someone on TV pretending to have Tourette’s syndrome, they’re shouting swear words or barking like a dog. You probably know less about Tourette’s syndrome than you do Idaho.
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But that’s part of my story.īesides living in Idaho, I’m different from you in other ways. The fact that most people don’t know where Idaho is, is exactly why my mother and I moved here-so people wouldn’t find us. Don’t ask me what state Idaho is in-news flash-Idaho is a state.
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If you passed me walking home from school you probably wouldn’t even notice me. My name is Michael Vey, and the story I’m about to tell you is strange. There was a long pause, then the voice on the phone replied darkly, “Yes. And if they don’t turn, there’s always Cell Twenty-Five.” “I know better than anyone,” the man said, tapping his ruby-capped pen on his desk. You know how difficult they are to turn at this age.” “ Time isn’t on our side,” the voice returned sharply. It’s just a matter of time before we find them-or they step into one of our traps.” I’ve put out a million-dollar bounty on the last two, we’ve got spiders crawling the Web,Īnd we have a whole team of investigators scanning global records for their whereabouts. “ Remind the Board that I’ve already found fifteen of the seventeen children. “Is that what you want me to tell the board?” “They’re two children among a billion-finding them is like finding a lost chopstick in China.” “But we believe we’re close-and they still don’t know that we’re hunting them.” “Not yet.” He put on his dark glasses even though it was close to midnight. “Not yet,” the well-dressed man on the other end of the phone replied. “Have you found the last two?” The voice on the phone was angry and coarse, like the sound of car tires over broken glass. TITLE: Michael Vey: The Prisoner of Cell 25