"Carl Hiaasen - Hoot" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hiaasen Carl)

from then on Roy was "Tex" or "cowgirl" or "Roy Rogers-hardt."
It was his own fault for not saying Detroit.

"Why did you punch Mr. Matherson?" asked Viola Hennepin. She was the
vice-principal of Trace Middle, and it was in her dim office cubicle that Roy
now sat, awaiting justice.
"Because he was choking me to death."
"That's not Mr. Matherson's version of events, Mr. Eberhardt." Miss Hennepin's
face had extremely pointy features. She was tall and bony, and wore a
perpetually severe expression. "He says your attack was unprovoked."
"Right," said Roy. "I always pick the biggest, meanest kid on the bus and punch
him in the face, just for fun."
"We don't appreciate sarcasm here at Trace Middle," said Miss Hennepin. "Are you
aware that you broke his nose? Don't be surprised if your parents get a hospital
bill in the mail."
Roy said, "The dumb jerk almost strangled me."
"Really? Your bus driver, Mr. Kesey, said he didn't see a thing."
"It's possible he was actually watching the road," Roy said.
Miss Hennepin smiled thinly. "You've got quite the snippy attitude, Mr.
Eberhardt. What do you think ought to be done with a violent boy like you?"
"Matherson is the menace! He hassles all the smaller kids on the bus."
"Nobody else has complained."
"Because they're scared of him," Roy said. Which was also why none of the other
kids had backed up his story. Nobody wanted to nark on Dana and have to face him
the next day on the bus.
"If you did nothing wrong, then why'd you run away?" Miss Hennepin asked.
Roy noticed a single jet-black hair sprouting above her upper lip. He wondered
why Miss Hennepin hadn't removed the hairЧwas it possible that she was letting
it grow?
"Mr. Eberhardt, I asked you a question."
"I ran because I'm scared of him, too," Roy replied.
"Or perhaps you were scared of what would happen to you when the incident was
reported."
"That's totally not true."
"Under the rules," said Miss Hennepin, "you could be suspended from school."
"He was choking me. What else was I supposed to do?"
"Stand up, please."
Roy did what he was told.
"Step closer," Miss Hennepin said. "How does your head feel? Is this where the
golf ball hit you?" She touched the tender purple lump above his ear.
"Yes, ma'am."
"You're a lucky young man. It could've been worse."
He felt Miss Hennepin's bony fingers turn down the collar of his shirt. Her
chilly gray eyes narrowed and her waxy lips pursed in consternation.
"Hmm," she said, peering like a buzzard.
"What is it?" Roy backed out of her reach.
The vice-principal cleared her throat and said, "That knot on your head tells me
you've learned your lesson the hard way. Am I right?"
Roy nodded. There was no use trying to reason with a person who was cultivating
one long oily hair on her lip. Miss Hennepin gave Roy the creeps.