Assassination of a High School President Page #3

- Where were you that night?

- What do you care?

l'm writing your biography.

Fine, let me copy off you

and l'll tell you.

Fine.

l was at the Park Arms with my nana,

playing bingo.

l got 30 f***ing geriatrics

that can back that up.

l'm touched, Cipriato.

Not a word, Funke.

After tailing Landis, I discovered

her secret life outside of school

She opened up, once I promised

to keep her ice-capades under wraps

l don't know who took them, Nancy Drew,

but l do know it happened during the game.

l was out in the parking lot last night

and l saw some flashlight

bounce around in Kirkpatrick's office.

What were you doing in the parking lot?

l was probably getting fingered

by Dutch Middleton.

Okay. Thanks, Landis.

Long time no see, Rocky.

Weekends and holidays, man.

- Thanks.

- Did you do it?

No. You?

l wish. Those tests are the tool

of the racist bourgeoisie.

Back to your cage, butt-boy.

Last night? No, man.

l got picked up for possession,

spent the night in holding.

lt's the creepy. You know.

l was f***ed up.

That's some alibi.

F*** it, f*** it. Hold this.

This is my jam, man.

None of these bad apples

had stolen the tests

Their alibis were like Dutch ovens

Gamey, but airtight

Maybe I was looking at it all wrong

Maybe a good kid was behind it

What scares you, Funke?

You know what scares me? lnjustice.

You know why? Because it's everywhere.

You think l don't see Cipriato

behind me jerking off right now?

He's a dead man. l'll deal with him.

But the thing about fighting injustice

is choosing your battles wisely.

And my battle right now is to find out

where are my missing SATs.

Now, l don't know your involvement

in all this, Funke,

but l'm watching you.

l got both eyes open and they're on you.

- You read me?

- Yes. Yes.

You bleed, Funke. We all bleed.

Thank you, sir.

Tad, am l going to get my story

on the girls' bowling team any time soon?

Get off my f***ing back, Clara!

Nobody gives two shits about girls' bowling.

l give two shits, okay?

How many more shits

do l need to get a story from you, Tad?

And Bobby?

Yeah?

Where's my story on Paul Moore?

Paul was a good kid

Maybe his bum knee wasn't so bad

Maybe my puff piece was no pastry

lt's on its way.

So how long...

So how did Paul's knee look that night?

Okay. Why?

Well, because, Nurse Platt, Paul injured it.

That's why they brought him here.

l thought he had diarrhea.

But he was limping,

so l guess he did hurt his little stem.

Yeah.

Okay.

So were you... Were you here with him

in the office the whole time?

Yeah.

Well, except l got hungry, and Paul

said l should get something to eat.

His treat.

So, l went across the street and got a gyro

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