***
Sat opposite Sir Amadi, Raheem and I waited for him to speak.
"Thank you," he said. "Both of you. Thank you so much for what you did for Doreen. Really, this can't be overemphasized."
"It's okay, sir," I said. "We only did what we had to."
Raheem rolled his eyes. "I thought we already got past this yesterday."
Sir Amadi's face hardened, but he let it go. "I fear for the safety of my students. Since the founding of this school, there's never been a case of attempted murder. But with what happened to Doreen, I don't know what this world is turning into."
"Long story short," Raheem said, stifling a yawn. "Where do we come in?"
Sir Amadi shot him a cold stare that extended far beyond the present. Raheem returned his vicious look, glaring at him as though anytime soon he would go around the table to straddle him to death. Although curiosity gnawed at my soul, I couldn't dare inquire about the basis for their murderous hate toward each other. It didn't concern me after all.
"Talk to me like that again and-" Sir Amadi threatened.
Raheem cut him off. "You really should take a chill pill, mister principal. If I remember correctly, it was the director himself who admitted me into this school, so he alone has the rights to threaten."
"Raheem, show some respect," I said. I would not sit and watch him get all saucy with the principal, a man old enough to father us.
Raheem fumed. "Whatever. I'm out of here."
He made for the exit, when Sir Amadi said, "I thought about having a detective look into what happened with Doreen. But word reached me that we already have a Sherlock Holmes amongst us. Or is it the Agent Pendergast we have?"
Wow, so Sir Amadi read non-biblical books just as much as he read Biblical ones. Impressive. I could never have guessed that. Although I'd never seen or heard of the Agent Pendergast character, I could only imagine what a great detective he made, considering that Sir Amadi mentioned him along with Sherlock, the legendary sleuth.
"I care for all my students," Sir Amadi said. Holding my gaze, he ignored Raheem the whole time. "And you are no exception. Which is why a capable detective must come in."
"There are a thousand and one cases, Sir Principal," Raheem stated. "What makes you think any cop is interested in digging into this? Girl found unconscious in restroom. End of story. Especially with the Bloody Miri story and all its silliness. C'mon now, have you even thought of that?"
"You best round up your investigation," Sir Amadi said, ignoring Raheem's question. "I don't want you kids nosing around, or you'll get hurt, and another student getting hurt is the last thing I want."
"So you're getting us off this case, is that it?" Raheem asked. Was it just me, or did a hint of amusement linger in his voice? "Don't flatter yourself now. You never assigned us to this case, and you have no rights whatsoever to-"
"Raheem!" I warned. "What is wrong with you?"
"I will tell you what's wrong with me," Raheem said. "Now, this man claims to have respect for life. What about three days ago? Have you forgotten so soon what you did, mister Principal?"
So I'd been right all along. Something had triggered the hate between Raheem and Sir Amadi. Initially, I'd thought this didn't concern me. But now, my ears itched to hear the untold story.
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"Are you willing to tell her or should I?" Raheem asked.
When Sir Amadi kept mum, Raheem said, "Okay. I will. Here's what happened three days ago. I was driving, and so was he. Without even honking, he burst out of a side street and crashed into the side of my vehicle."
An image of Raheem's car slid into my mind. Deformed by the crash, it took the shape of a squeezed can of malt.
"I know what you're thinking," Raheem said. "It was an accident and I shouldn't react like this. But this man was clearly at fault. Number one, he was speeding. Number two, he didn't honk before joining the main road from a side street. And number three, he claimed right. It didn't matter to him that I was hurt or something. He just bolted out of his car and started a fight right there in the middle of the road. Not to mention that he'd been drinking."
Glancing at Sir Amadi, he said, "By the way, how is your fist? And no, I didn't hit him, if that's what you're thinking. Hell, I would never raise a hand against one old enough to be my father. Thing is, he took a swing at me, I ducked and his fist met my car. I know it's just a car and I shouldn't think much of it, after all it only takes a token to fix it. But what pisses me off is that that car was a gift from uncle. A few months back, I turned seventeen and he presented the keys to me. It's not just a birthday gift, but a parting gift. My uncle died last month in one of the Baghdad bombings.
"And then a madman comes around and does shit. How am I supposed to react? You all assume I'm racist, and to be honest, I am hundred percent racist. You know, people like this man, and others of his kind are the parasites that cause the moral decadence of this world. They all belong to a certain race. And when it comes to them I am racist."
"My CRS teacher starting a fight in the middle of the road," I said. "It's unthinkable. Sir, are you not the one who teaches us to be peaceable at all times?"
Whatever respect I thought I had for Sir Amadi slowly ebbed away. A man of dignity would never claim to be right when wrong. He would never start a fight in public.
"I'm telling you you can't go in there," the secretary's voice sailed to our hearing. "The principal is in a meeting!"
"And we're telling you we need to see him this minute," a girl shouted back.
Barely allowing a flicker of hesitation, the door flew open and three juniors burst into the office. Their eyes screamed 'there is fire on the mountain.' I didn't know what to expect, but my heart lurched.
The secretary raced in after the girls, her heels frantic against the floor. Scowling at them, she explained, "I'm sorry sir. I told them you were in a meeting but they just forced their way in."
"You better have an explanation for this," Sir Amadi said to the girls.
"Another girl's been attacked," one of the girls blurted out.
"Attacked?" I asked.
"Bloody Miri struck again," the second girl said.
My blood ran cold at the news.
"Who's the victim?" Sir Amadi asked, his eyes round as saucers.
"Nengi Oruene."
CHAPTER TEN
Culprit
"Looks like I arrived just in time to save the next victim."