Ghost Time

then, when I got to the door, I froze, seeingFoley’s silhouette, seated at the table, perfectly framed, like Satan through the frosted glass, and I swallowed, before walking in. When Cheesy stepped up, behind me, I opened the door and walked in, but I didn’t see Foley, all I saw was the black bag on the table, and I froze.
    Foley goes, Good morning, Theadora. Please close the door, he said, and I did as he said. I realized my mouth was open, and I couldn’t even shut it, hide it from him. He could tell, too, but he asked anyway, he goes, Do you recognize this bag, Theadora? And I nodded yes, and Cheesy assumed his perch, in the corner, like he was trying to say he wasn’t really there, just act like he’s not there, and Foley said, Where have you seen this bag before? There was something about his tone that made me feel like he might give me a little reward if I just answered a couple questions, so I said, Yes. It’s Cam’s backpack, I said, speaking to the bag, not Foley. It looked deflated and dirty, but it was definitely his. I knew by the band patches he’d sewn on, because they were his dad’s.
    I waited for what seemed like forever, until Foley said, We found it yesterday. And I said, Where? He said, In a tunnel, not far from here. Just behind the baseball field, he said, and I bit the inside of my lip. Cam? I said, and Foley said, Unfortunately, there was no sign of John. I looked at him, wondering what he wanted, and he goes, Would you please take a look at the bag, to be sure it’s his? It’s his, I said, and he goes, Please, to be sure, Theadora, meaning he wanted me to search the bag. There’s nothing in the bag now, he said, slowly rotating his thumbs. John’s phone andcomputer are still missing, as well, he said, then he reversed the direction of his thumbs, waiting on me.
    So I unzipped the bag, feeling in each pocket, and—nothing. Like Foley said, there was nothing in it, but I just had this feeling like there was some little animal or spider that was going to bite me. Except for one thing, Foley said, almost smiling, the very second I felt it in my hand. Yes, we did find one thing in the bag, Foley said, and I knew what it was right away, before he said another word. Please, take a look, he said, as I removed my hand, seeing for myself. It was a baseball.
    Does John play baseball? Foley asked, and I said, Not that I know of. Foley said, I didn’t think so. But what’s particularly odd is just how old this baseball is, and I looked at him, and then I looked at the baseball. It was really old, like a hundred years old, and it looked handmade. You’ve never seen this baseball before? Foley asked, and I shook my head no. Well, the plot thickens, he said, twirling his thumbs faster, like he was getting excited or something. Thank you, Theadora, he said, grinning at me. Freak.
    Just when I thought the man was utterly and completely worthless, Cheesy says, Special Agent Foley, it’s most unusual, isn’t it, letting a piece of evidence be touched like this? Tampering, Cheesy said, remembering the word. Foley nodded, looking at Cheesy, like, what an astute observation. Then Foley said, Indeed, Principal Cheswick, it is most unusual to let a piece of evidence be touched. However, the most unusual part about it is that we now know there are two set of prints on this baseball: one set that belongs to John Cameron Conlon and another setthat belongs to… Foley said, smiling at me: Theadora Denny. Technically, there’s been no tampering, seeing as Theadora’s prints match one set on the ball already. Whether or not it was true, Cheesy buckled, and honestly, my whole body went numb.
    I have nothing more to say, except that I’ve never seen that ball in my entire life, I said, getting up from the table, and Foley raised a brow, Really, Theadora? he said, standing, and only then did I see that Foley was wearing white cloth gloves, and then he pulled a plastic bag out, from under the table, and he returned the backpack to the plastic bag, clearly marked EVIDENCE.
    When I walked out of the conference room, I could barely feel my arms or legs. I turned to go back to class, but it was the first time I’d ever had anything like a panic attack. I mean, seriously, like not being able to move or breathe, even, so I stood there, just staring at the light of the front doors, at the end of the hall, and then the bell rang, and there were kids pouring out, everywhere, some looking at me, like, What’s