MUGD (the whole thing... so far)

MUGD

Monica

Under

Guard

of

Dan

(continue page 19)

INTRODUCTION

My name is Monica S., and I am thirty-two years old. This book is my life - or the more interesting aspects of it that I can remember - written on paper. I have now had this leather-bound book for twenty-one years, as well as the invisible-ink pen I am writing with now. The only way to read the words written with this ink is under a black light. Because very few people carry around black lights with them, the average person will see this to be nothing but a blank book, and I can rest assured that my words are safe.CHAPTER 1

“Monica!”

That was the nine-year-old me, and that was Mom, yelling at me that I would be late for school at George Willfin‘s Elementary School, the lamest school in the world (or rather, I considered it as such); it was a school for the average, not for people like me; not for people with extraordinary intelligence; not for people who could easily skip a few grades, would the school board allow it.

Dumb school board.

“I’m coming,” I groaned, struggling to take control of my black, frizzy hair. Mom’s hair was frizzy too, but far more manageable than mine. Her hair was brown, though, and her eyes were grey, unlike my eyes, which were a vivacious blue that completely contradicted my personality.

After ten minutes of pointless brushing that only seemed to make my hair worse, I gave up.

“Monica, you’re going to make me late!” shouted Mom, who was eager to assume her post at the restaurant she and Dad owned.

“I’m coming,” I said again, slightly aggravated, as I trotted down the stairs, and grabbed the backpack Mom was holding out to me. “Bye!” I shouted on my way out the door, leaving our house.

Typically, one’s house seems to have no smell, because the house smells like the person, and the person cannot smell their own scent. Ours, however, smelled. It was neither a good smell or a bad smell, it simply smelled. Perhaps the reason it did not smell like us had something to do with the very little time we spent there. Mom and Dad took shifts at their restaurant, so one of them was almost always gone (except, of course, when the restaurant was closed). When Dad was home, he would mow the lawn, wash the car; typical Dad stuff. When Mom was home, she would cook, clean, and weed the flower bed that accompanied the sidewalk. I, obviously, had school, which took up half my day, and the other half of my day was spent outdoors with my cousin and his friends. Aside from Mom’s cooking and cleaning (and, of course, our sleeping), we rarely were in the house.

The school bus drove straight past our house as I stepped out onto the porch. It was only six o’clock in the morning, but the bus always passed by at this time, for our street was their first stop.

“Come on, Monica!”

Dan was my cousin. He had been there as long as I could remember, and he had become a sort of brother-type character in my life.

Dan had black hair that cast a permanent shadow over half of his face. Not much of his face could be seen at all, save for one of his hazel eyes, half of his mouth (which was usually wearing a smirk), and his extra-broad jaw.

“Wait up, Dan!” I called. He had ridden his bicycle up to the stop sign already, and was waiting for me to catch up, teasing that he would leave without me.

Of course, I knew that Dan would never do that. He treated me the way the Royal Guard treats the Queen, or the secret service treats the President. There were times when he was a pain , but I knew he had my best interests at heart.

I grabbed my own bicycle and rode down to the stop sign where Dan waited.

“You’re late,” he said as we turned the corner.

“I’m aware,” I growled.

“Well, I thought you should know, your hair looks awful,” Dan teased playfully. “You should’ve just left it when you got out of bed; right now you’d look better if you’d stood in the eye of a hurricane.”

“Thanks,” I replied, heavy on the sarcasm, as the park a few blocks away came slowly into view.

The grass was a neon green, and the trees stood tall; little weedy flowers popped up every here and there, most of which were dandelions. The birds were chirping in their trees, not even concerned that an impatient group of boys were already there.

“What up, Boss?” asked the one with short locks of blond, curly hair. He meant it not as a greeting, but



rather implying that we were late.

Dan nodded to each of them, but said nothing. I knew that he liked the nickname “Boss”, as he seemed to have given it to himself, but the name was a bit extravagant considering, from what I could gather, it meant no more than “founder of the L.S.P.P.”

The L.S.P.P. (Little Sister Protection Program) was nothing short of a group of volunteer body guards. My body guards.

“Sorry we’re late, Guyz,” said Dan. “The Girl had some hair issues this morning.”

That was my nickname in the L.S.P.P. “The Girl.” It was the most nameless nickname in the world, but eventually, I got used to it.

We spoke no more, but hopped back on our bikes, heading for my elementary school.

Many people ride bikes for fun, but not The Boss, and not The Guyz, and not me. On The Boss’s orders, we rode in an almost-pyramid: Dan rode in front, leading the way, while Chad and Brad rode on either side of me. When a car would come, the three of them would escort me safely to the curb. Those boys would prefer it if the largest injury I was burdened with were a paper cut.

Dan, however, couldn’t guard me all the time. As we arrived at my school, he bade me goodbye and didn’t look back. I, however, watched him until his bike vanished from sight, resulting in my nearly being late for class.

I sat down at a table in my classroom, and throughout all of Math, I didn’t look anywhere other than my teacher, my text book, and my paper.

But when I had finished my equations, and my fellow students were still struggling through the first problem, I was bored. Even while I was doing my multiplication tables, I was bored.

After Math was Science, which was just as easy as Math, and after that was History. I didn’t mind History so much, though, because I’d just be reading the same thing next year, and the year after that. Why would I be bothered? I loved reading.

Upon entering the cafeteria, the first thing that I - and everyone else - noticed was the table reserved by the cheerleaders for the cheerleaders. They’re the first noticed because they were the only ones wearing the coolest clothes. They were all giggling and flirting with the jocks at a nearby table. Calling those girls my friends would be the ugliest lie I’d ever told (…at the time). But I’d even rather had them for friends than what I had at the time. But then, I’d also rather have the boy with gelled hair, who tucked in his plaid shirt, and carried around his inhaler than the friends I had then. The reason for this was that I had no friends. The “Boss” made sure of this. That’s where his over-protectiveness branched out into annoyingness.

So, I bought my lunch and sat down at the same table I always sat at. The table was located at the back of the cafeteria. All of the school’s rejects sat there, and I only hoped I that I wouldn’t have to endure the torture of rejection throughout middle school, too.

It wasn’t all bad, though, for Dan wasn’t the typical male relative. Many people complain about their rude, arrogant, unsupportive brothers, but I’d never had the misfortune to meet one. I won’t say that Dan was polite, or had no ego, or supported everything I said, but he didn’t play the painted role of “villain brother”. He was sweet, kind, and sensible.

When I heard snickering from the other side of the table, I shook myself from my daydreams.

“Monie's got a boyfriend! Monie's got a boyfriend!” sang a girl whom many, upon first sight, would not think would sit at the rejects’ table. She was a reject because the popular people (Dan and I called them The Pops) wouldn’t let anyone forget the Tuesday that she accidentally wore mix and match socks. Two years ago.

“My name is Monica,” I snapped. “Monie” was the dumbest nickname I'd ever head. I HATED it. “And what do you mean, anyway?” I asked. A few other kids laughed and I looked down at my right hand where I had absentmindedly written Dan's name over and over on my napkin. Oops.

“Monie and Dan, sittin' in a tree…” the girl started singing.

“My name is not Monie,” I snapped. “And Dan's not my boyfriend, he's my brother.”

“You said you didn't have any brothers and sisters,” sneered a boy wearing bell-bottom pants and an afro.

Oops again. I knew he was right. I had undoubtedly mentioned, or muttered under my breath, at the very least, the loneliness of being an only child. “Fine,” I said. “He's not my brother or my boyfriend. He's my second-cousin. He's like a brother, is all.”

But the children at the Rejects' Table only sang even more loudly than before, “Monie's got a boyfriend!”

I slouched in my seat, wanting nothing more than to slip under the table and never come out.

When the bell rang for school to let out, I was so exhausted from all the embarrassment that I wished I didn't have to ride my bicycle all the way to Dan's middle school and wait for him there.

There was no getting out of it, though. If I wasn't at the right spot at the right time, Dan would worry something had gone horrible wrong.

Therefore, I rode over to the middle school, which let out only slightly later than mine, and was about a mile away from it.

Upon arriving, I entered the front door, crouching as to not be seen by the ladies in the office. I sneaked through the vacant hallways until reaching the empty auditorium. The exact middle chair on the third-closest row to the stage was where I sat.

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

The alarm on my wrist-watch went off. Typically, the doors to the auditorium would have swung open, and Dan would have stepped inside at this second.

But that didn't occur today. Today I spent three minutes, in which time I could only imagine the agony he could be enduring in such a dreadful place.

“Sorry, I'm late," came a voice from behind me as the doors to the auditorium swung open, and Dan stepped inside. “Come on, Monica, let's go.”CHAPTER 2

“You really had me worried,” I whined as we got on our bikes.

“It was three minutes,” said Dan. “What could happen in three minutes?”

“If I were three minutes late, you’d be worried about me,” I reasoned.

“Yeah, but-” Dan wrinkled his nose as we turned the corner. “What’s got you in such a mood today, anyway?”

I told him what happened in the cafeteria, and was sure I heard him release a laugh.

“It wasn’t funny,” I retorted.

“Okay, sorry,” he said, taking his hands off the handlebars until he saw that I was watching him, and he returned his hands to the handlebars.

“What kept you?” I figured this topic had to be more interesting than how embarrassing my day had been.

“The Chicks,” he mumbled in response, a blank expression on his face, as though he wasn’t really aware of what he was saying.

I raised my eyebrows at him. “You were late on account of baby chickens?”

Dan bit his lip. “Um… you know what? Never mind.”

“No, tell me,” I pleaded.

“Monica, you’re nine. Ignorance is probably best as far as this subject is concerned,” said Dan. “Besides, there’s something more important I need to teach you.”

“What’s that?” I asked as we turned onto our street, Seashell Street.

“I need to teach you how to embrace your so-called embarrassment instead of fearing it,” he replied.

“How’s that?” I asked.

“Well, all of this teasing about your ‘boyfriend’ is really because those kids are jealous.”

“Boyfriend?”

Perhaps it was merely my imagination, but Dad’s voice seemed to echo all along the road.

“Shouldn’t you be at the restaurant?” Though he tried to conceal it, I could hear the fear in Dan’s voice.

“Isn’t Monica a bit young to be dating?” Dad asked. His ignorance made it obvious that I was the first-born.

“Yeah,” said Dan as he got off of his bike. “About that…”

“It’s my fault,” I said, but Dad didn’t seem to notice. Even if he did, he seemed much more likely to believe it was Dan’s fault than my own.

“Don’t you go taking the wrap for this,” said Dan. “After all, it is my fault. You see, Uncle Robert, I kind of hooked up Monica with this guy-”

I couldn’t believe what Dan was saying.

“MONICA ORION GINGER, GET IN THE HOUSE!” Dad shouted.

I couldn’t believe Dad had made my middle name “Orion”.

Upon hearing my full name, I hurried inside, terribly afraid. For Dan.

I shut the door and peeked through the kitchen blinds, through which I saw Dad leading Dan into the backyard. Dan was in trouble.

For a moment, I heard nothing, and could only imagine what was happening.

“And that will teach you to ‘hook up’ my little girl!”

Who is he calling a little girl? I am nine years old and darn proud of it.

I heard footsteps approaching the door. If Dan saw me, he’d know I knew. Even if he didn’t see me, he’d know; but him seeing me would hurt him worse. And I didn’t exactly want to see him just yet.

I ran into my room and turned the radio on. Loud. I couldn’t bear to hear Dan’s groans of pain.

I didn’t see Dad or Dan until supper, during which an awkward silence lingered. Typically, Mom would have wanted to know what had happened, but she was still at work, so no one said anything. Not until Dad had cleaned his plate.

“Will you be staying here or at Samuel’s?”

Samuel was my uncle, Dad’s brother, and Dan’s grandfather. After what had happened this afternoon, I was sure that Dan would to be as far from Dad as possible. But-

“If you don’t mind, Uncle Robert, I’d like to stay here,” said Dan. “For tonight, I mean.”

Dad shrugged, but I knew he wanted Dan as far away as possible as soon as possible.

Sensing Dad’s dislike of having Dan in the house, or perhaps remembering the buckle on Dad’s belt, Dan said, “I’ll pitch the tent in the backyard?”

Without thinking, I asked, “Ooh, Dad, can we use the two-room tent so I can sleep out there, too?”

I was terribly shocked when Dad said yes, but Dan didn’t look surprised.

“Why do you think Dad’s letting us do this?” I asked Dan as we started setting up the tent.

“Two words:” said Dan. “No boys.”

“Did someone say ‘boys’?” asked Mom’s voice from the side of the yard.

“No,” said Dan immediately. “I said toys. We’re camping out here tonight, but Uncle Robert didn’t want Monica to bring and toys out.”

Under normal circumstances, Dan probably would have taken the blame again. He must have gotten it bad.

“You’re back from work awful soon,” I said, hoping to change the subject quickly.

“Soon?” Mom repeated. “It’s eight thirty.”

Typically, the restaurant closed at six. It must have been busy that day.

“Time sure flies, doesn’t it?” I laughed nervously, hoping Mom wouldn’t linger.

“Well, I won’t keep you.” She said, “Have fun!” and entered the house.

Dan and I didn’t talk until the tent was set up and our stuff was brought out.

“Do you think he’ll tell Mom?” I asked from my room of the tent to Dan’s as I buttoned my nightgown.

“Nope,” said Dan.

“Why not?” I asked as I undid the zipper between our rooms enough for my head to poke through, and closed my eyes. “Are you descent?”

Dan let out a half-laugh. “Yeah, come on in.” He was slipping on a brown tank top, at which time I saw a badly bruised back.

My eyes widened. I had a horrible feeling I knew where the bruises had come from.

“I fell at school,” he said in reply to my wide eyes.

But I knew he was lying, and it scared me that he wouldn’t even discuss it with me. He needed to let it out, though, lest he grow depressed. And a depressed Dan was not a good one. So, I threw him the “mm-hmm-yeah-right” look that he sent me every time I confided in him.

“Monica, I-” he exhaled slowly. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Yes, it is,” I insisted. “You’re really hurt, and-”

“No, I’m not-”

“If you just told my mom what happened-”

“No.”

And I knew that was the final word. Dan was only twelve years old, but his voice could demand silence to virtually any person.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I wasn’t too sure what I was sorry about, but I felt like I should be.

“Don’t be,” he whispered back. “You were just worried about me. I know I would’ve been if this were you. You’ve just got to trust me when I say that telling Aunt Janet isn’t the answer.”

“I trust you,” I whispered, and almost instantly fell asleep.

I awoke the next morning on my side of the tent, and in my sleeping bag, to the sound of birds, exchanging their latest gossip outside. I crawled out of the tent and stretched my arms. The sunrise was as beautiful as ever.

Back inside the tent, Dan snored in his deep sleep. What with getting… punished… by Dad and being held up by baby chickens at school, I doubted that Dan had slept well, and decided not to wake him.

Dad had all of the doors to the house locked, so without a key, I was stranded. Therefore, it was a good thing that Dad had entrusted me with a key to the front door.

Once inside, I quickly got dressed, brushed my teeth, and combed my hair - or tried to, anyway. I decided to skip breakfast because I had extra things to do, which left me with no time to eat.

I took out a pen and a piece of paper, and scribbled down:

Dan,

You had rough day yesterday. You slept in. I didn’t wake you. Went to The Place with The Guyz. Chill out. You’re not in trouble.

Monica.

I taped my note to the outside of the tent, and took off on my bike. Without Dan’s guidance, it took about twenty minutes to get to Tidal Park; The Place; the same park I had gone to with Dan the morning before.

The Guyz were waiting for me there, or rather, waiting for Dan.

Chad scratched his brown crew-cut hair. “Where’s The Boss?”

“He’s going to be excused from school today,” I said. “You’re going to hand in a note from my mom saying he’s got a twenty-four-hour bug.”

Chad sighed. “So, where’s the note?”

“You have it,” I insisted.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re going to forge a note,” I explained.

“But forgery is wrong,” said Brad in his “you-know-better-than-that” voice.

“That doesn’t seem to stop you,” I crossed my arms, and raised my eyebrows at the two of them. “For example, I know you guys have been forging my mom’s signature because you have her grocery list in your backpack.”

“So what?” Chad asked. “So maybe we were going to do some more shopping for your mom on the way back from school.”

“You’re buying last month’s groceries?” I asked. “Admit it; you were using that list to copy my mom’s handwriting.”

Brad sighed. “The Boss tells you everything, doesn’t he?”

“Oh, please,” I yawned. “I could’ve figured that out in my sleep. Now, are you going to write that note, or what?”

Chad and Brad exchanged looks before Chad said, “Fine, but only because we’re behind schedule, and don’t have time to discuss it any longer.”

I doubted that Chad and Brad didn’t enjoy forging notes, and that was the beauty of it. Dan had prevented me from getting punished by Dad, so it was my turn to prevent him from getting detention.

We rode our bikes to the school, just the way Dan had taught us, and then The Guyz left for the middle school.

The schoolwork at George Willfin’s (G.W.’s) Elementary School was, as always, pathetically easy. However, my mind was with Dan that day, and my grades surely suffered because of it.

During lunch, I went to the office to make sure that Dan was still at home, and that Dad hadn’t caught him yet.

“Hello?” The voice on the phone was male, but I couldn’t tell if it was Dad’s or Dan’s.

“Dad?” I figured asking if it was Dan would be far too risky.

“Monica, what’s wrong?” he asked, and I knew it was Dad, for Dan would’ve said, “Hey, Girl, what up?”

“Nothing,” I was quick to say. “I just thought you’d like to know that I got an A-plus on my vocabulary quiz yesterday.” This was true, of course, but definitely not the reason I had called.

“That’s great news,” Dad said, but he sounded rather bored. Did I parade my good grades around that much? “You need to get back to class now, okay?”

Disappointed by his lack of enthusiasm, but relieved that he hadn’t caught Dan yet, I replied, “Alright, Dad. Bye.”

My mind was mostly at ease for the rest of the school day. When the bell rang, I hopped on my bicycle, and before I had even thought about what I was doing or where I was going, I found myself in the exact middle seat of the third-closest row to the stage of Dan’s school.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

“Monica?”

The voice was on time, but it didn’t belong to Dan. It was a girl’s voice.

The girl approached me. She was Hispanic, and had her long, black hair clipped back into a barrette. The thing I liked least about her was that she didn’t look even vaguely familiar.

“So, Dan’s your brother?” she asked.

“Second-cousin,” I corrected. “But yeah.”

“Oh, he just always referred to you as his sister,” she explained.

“Who are you, anyway?” I had to know.

“Natasha,” she answered. “Surely, Dan’s mentioned me before?”

“Nope,” I said. “After all, why would he? It’s not like you’re his girlfriend, right? Even so, that would make him less likely to mention you.”

“A couple? US?” Natasha asked in what many would mistake for disbelief, but I was sure that it was sheer hope. “No, no, no. His GPA is about eighty-seven. No offense, but my girls and I have a reputation to protect.”

“So, you your girls are The Pops, then?” I asked.

“Pops?” Natasha repeated.

“The populars,” I explained.

“Well, no,” said Natasha. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t have any dignity left to my name.”

“Oh,” I sighed. “Did you get to see the attack of the chickens?”

“Was that in the theater or something?” Natasha asked.

“No,” I answered, wondering how low her GPA must be to not know what I was talking about. “It was at you guys’ school yesterday.”

“Who told you that?” Natasha asked.

“Dan,” I replied. “He was late so I asked him what kept him, and he said ‘chickens’.”

“Chickens?” Natasha repeated. “You mean ‘chicks’? He -– wait -– he called me a chick?”

“So you made him late.”

“He called me a chick?”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Horrible,” Natasha answered, although she seemed somewhat flattered for some reason. “The word ‘chick’ is used by absolute pigs in reference to girls.”

“Pigs can talk?”

“I’ll kill him.” `

“Who?”

“Dan.”

“Over my dead body.” I stood up and placed my hands on my hips. Natasha stormed out of the auditorium, and my resent for her grew.

I got back on my bike and started for home. As I passed Tidal Park, my bike made a sudden stop. And I didn’t slam on the brakes. A hand clapped over my mouth, and someone lifted me off of my bike. However, I was not alarmed, for the hands had a familiar touch to them. I felt that I was not being abducted, but rather, I was being rescued.

“Chill, Girl,” said a familiar voice as the hands released me.

“Did those kids give you any more trouble?” Dan asked.

“I didn’t notice,” I said, and despite the “yeah-right” look Dan was giving me, it was the truth.

“Fine,” said Dan after five minutes of silence. “We’ll talk about something else… What did the note say?”

“Note?” I repeated. “Uh, right, the note. It said you had a twenty-four-hour bug and would be well and in school by tomorrow.”

“Twenty-four-hour bug?” Dan smiled. “That’s genius.”

“Oh, and Natasha’s going to kill you,” I added.

“She told you that?” Dan asked. “Did she say why?”

“Something about pigs calling girls chickens…”

“You told her I said that?”

“You said pigs can’t talk.”

“Yeah -– I mean, no -– they can’t -– she was just being rude, okay?”

I sighed. “Whatever you say, Dan.” I didn’t feel much like carrying on a pointless argument. “So, Dad doesn’t know you skipped school today, right?”

“Hey, you skipped school for me,” Dan corrected. “But yeah, I’ve been here, at the park, all this time.”

“You didn’t eat lunch?” I asked.

“Nope,” he replied.

“You must be starved!”

“Would you two like a lift?”

I looked and saw a white Cadillac with black polka-dots; it was the only one like it in the country, and it happened to belong to Mom.

“Sure,” I said, and I walked my bike over to the car.

“Monica, maybe we should walk,” said Dan, gesturing toward his bicycle.

“Nonsense,” said Mom. “Your bikes will fit in the backseat.”

“Come on, Dan,” I pleaded.

Dan sighed. “Alright, as long as I don’t have to clean out the dirt these bikes track in.”

“Agreed,” Mom and I said together.

Dan and I carefully loaded our bikes into the back of the car before taking our seats in the front. Because I was only nine, and therefore smaller than Dan, I sat in the middle, and he sat by the window.

“You’re back from work early,” I observed.

“Oh, yes, that,” Mom sighed as she put the car into drive. “Your dad came into work early; said he needed to do something to take his mind off of stuff.”

Something about the way Mom said ‘your dad’ sounded weird to me; it had never sounded quite normal. On several occasions, I had brought it up in a conversation with Dan, but he had always said I was “just imagining things” or “being paranoid”. But that wasn’t the only thing Mom said that made me think. She said he needed to take his mind off of stuff, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she knew about all the times Dad had “punished” Dan. Was that why Mom said ‘your dad’ so strangely? Maybe Dan was right; maybe I was being paranoid.

I didn’t say anything more on the drive home, and neither did Mom, so I assumed that she hadn’t figured out about my getting Dan out of school that day; with The Guyz’s help, I had pulled it off. CHAPTER 2

The next day, everything was back to normal: Dan slept over at Uncle Samuel’s house (he had legal custody of Dan), I battled with my hair until Mom yelled at me to hurry up before I was late, and Dan was waiting for me by the stop sign.

School also carried on as usual: the work was easy, the kids at the social rejects’ table were annoying, The Pops ignored me, I waited for Dan in the exact middle seat of the third-closest row to the stage as my alarm sounded, and Dan entered the auditorium on time.

One thing, however, was not normal that day. Instead of saying, “hi, how was your day?” and such, when Dan came into the auditorium, he merely walked over to me and let out a long, heavy sigh. Something was wrong; something he didn’t want to talk about. But I did want to talk about it.

“Were your teachers mad about you missing school yesterday?” I asked as we left the school.

“Nope.”

“They bought our ‘twenty-four-hour bug’ excuse?” I asked.

“Yep.”

“Can’t I get more than one syllable?” I asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

For a moment, I thought I had seen him half-smile, but when I looked more closely, I saw his teeth were barred. He was really mad, but there was no reason for him to take it out on me. Unless… was it something I had done?

Matters only got worse in the days that followed. Dan didn’t even speak to me save for when he asked me to pass the pepper. I really wanted to tell him about the party at my school (I had to let my excitement to someone, but Dan wouldn’t listen to me; he didn’t want to). I made an agreement with myself that I would only try to tell him once more. So, one our bike-ride back from school, I explained it to him in full detail.

“So, I know it’s a pathetic attempt, but I was thinking that if I look nice enough at the party, and I don’t make a fool of myself, I could raise my social status a hair or two.”

Dan didn’t say anything, or look even the slightest bit interested.

“And they’re going to have snacks, and punch,” I continued. “I don’t know the occasion… I guess they just wanted to get us kids together for fun, like how they have dances at your school, Dan. They couldn’t call it a dance, though, because we’re only in elementary school, and we’re not ‘emotionally mature’ enough yet. Why do people keep saying that?”

“Because you’re emotionally immature,” Dan finally spoke.

“He speaks!” I exclaimed, but once again, Dan wouldn’t respond. “Pull over,” I said quietly, and Dan obeyed.

“What?” he snapped.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked.

“My life isn’t up for discussion,” he barked. “And neither is yours, so stick a sock in your excitement about this dumb party ‘cause I don’t care!”

“But, Dan, I-”

“You know what?” he said. “I am so sick of you rambling on and on about every little thing, that you can take the bus to school tomorrow!”

My jaw dropped. Never before had Dan yelled at me, and my eyes were ready for some wet weather. I swallowed the plum-sized lump in my throat and said, “Do I have to take the bus home, too?”

“You’ve got that party to go to,” said Dan. “Just stay there and wait.” Saying no more, he took off on his bike.

I knew that Dan knew that I couldn’t just stay at school. I needed to talk to someone who could make sense of it all, and that person was sick of me; that person was Dan. I needed someone to talk to. I couldn’t talk to Dad; when Dan wasn’t around, he was too goofy for me to have a serious conversation with him. Mom was a kid a long time ago, so I didn’t feel like she would understand. Who else was there? I had cousins, but the ones my age weren’t ideal for talking to; on Mom’s side, were the twins, who were 10, blonde, and obsessed with vanity. On Dad’s side, was Erl (which was short for Erlando), who was 8, and his best friend was Bessie (the pregnant pig in their sty). Other than that, all of my cousins were twenty years old at a minimum. After much debate -– most of which was with me -– I decided that my best bet was the twins. The twins lived miles away, so, obviously, I couldn’t pay them a visit, but I could call them.

I made my way home, where Dad was washing his jeep.

“Hi, Dad.”

“How was school?”

Dad hadn’t asked me that when Dan was here. I was glad to see him lighten up a little. It was too bad I couldn’t say the same thing about Dan.

“Okay, I guess,” I said. “What’re you doing?”

“Funny story,” he said as he dropped his sponge in his bucket and picked up the hose. Then, he turned the hose on me. “I’m washing the jeep.”

“And me,” I said as I wiped water off of my face. “I need to use the phone, okay?”

“To call who?” Dad asked with mild interest.

“Aly and – Allyson and Abigail,” I corrected myself quickly. When Dad gave me a “why-would-you-want-to-talk-to-them” look, I remembered that I had not yet his permission to go to the party. “Oh yeah, there’s a party at my school on Friday – tomorrow, I mean. It’s my first one, so I kind of need a girl my age to talk to about it.” That was pretty close to the truth – and as close to it as I was going to get; I wasn’t about to talk to Dad about my fight with Dan. “You don’t mind if I call them, do you?”

Dad shook his head, and I went inside and dialed the number. On the third ring, someone answered.

“Hello. Privett residence, this is Juliana speaking.”

“Oh, hi, Aunt Juliana,” I said. “This is Monica… speaking.”

“Monica,” Aunt Julie said. “The correct response is ‘hello’.”

“Right,” I said. “My bad… I mean, my mistake, I’m sorry. Could I speak to Allyson or Abigail, please?”

“You mean ‘may’?” said Aunt Julie.

“Pardon?” I said, hoping that was “the appropriate response”; talking to Aunt Julie was like taking an etiquette class.

“You mean to say, ‘may I speak to Allyson or Abigail’.” Aunt Julie sighed. “I shall go get them. Please hold.”

Moments later, I heard a girlish voice in the phone. “Hi, Monica.”

I knew Aunt Julie had hung up, for otherwise, the voice would have said “hello”.

“It’s Aly,” said the girlish voice. “How come you’re calling, Monica? You never call us! … What?... Oh, Abby says hi.”

I explained my situation to Aly, who relayed the message to Abby. Because Dad was still outside, I was able to tell my story in full detail.

“Well, I should say that the most reasonable solution to your dilemma must be to keep a relaxed attitude," said Ally.

"You're mom's in the room, isn't she?" I asked.

"Quite right, Monica," said Ally. "You do catch on rather quickly... okay, I've got a plan."

"She's gone, then?" I asked.

"Uh-huh," said Ally. "I'll lend you one of my dresses; you'll blow him away."

I deliberately cleared my throat. "First of all, there's no 'him'. Second of all, what's in it for you? You sound all too keen about the idea. And third of all, are you sure your mom would approve of you two sharing clothes with the likes of me?"

"And just what are you implying, by that?" asked Aly.

"By that, I mean that your mom doesn't think of me as very worthy," I explained. "I'm some sort of peasant in comparison to Her Royal Highness."

"What did she say?" I heard Abby ask.

"She says Mom's got inflated ego!" Aly was speaking so loudly that I was sure she could be heard a block away from her house.

I said nothing, but heard an entire conversation on the other line:

One of the twins gasped.

"No, Mother," one of them said.

I could not hear what Aunt Julie said, for she always spoke quietly.

"No, Mother!" one of the twins said. "We would never speak ill of you-"

"It's Monica," the other twin said. "We were just advising her about a boy at her school, and she felt a sudden urge to insult you."

"What?" I heard Aunt Julie say. "I must have a talk with your Aunt Janetina!"

"Mother would like to speak with your mother, Monica," one of the twins said into the phone.

"She's out," I said shortly.

"Mother says she shall call in a day or two, Monica," said the twin. "Good-bye."

I heard the dial tone, and placed the phone back in its carriage. I couldn't remember why I had called them anyhow. I would just go to that party and have fun without any one else's advice.

"Bye, Dad!" I blew my dad a kiss as I got out of the car. I hadn't done that in the longest time, and yet it felt so natural.

The cafeteria looked almost unrecognizable; the staff had outdone themselves for the first time since I had enrolled there.

- The people, however, were entirely recognizable. The boys all wore scroungy clothes (it looked as though they had just slid into hoe plate). The Pops wore dresses that went down to their knees, and their giggles were now continuous. The girls who were neither social rejects, nor Pops, hung out in small groups of two or three. Considering I didn't have anyone to hang out with - or really any friends at all, I was rather lost at the party.

Twenty minutes after arriving, I was bored. I had half a mind to call my dad and ask him to take me home. I poured myself a glass of punch as I pondered what to do.

However, after I poured that glass of punch, I didn't think about hat to do next; I was distracted, for my head started to ache, and my arms started to itch. I took a sip of punch, and that took my mind off of my aching head and itching arms - but only for a moment; something else attracted my attention.

"MONICA ORION GINGER!" a deep voice echoed throughout the cafeteria. "STOP!" The next thing I knew, Dan was in front of me, knocking the glass of punch out of my hands. I tried not to think of how he had gotten into the party when he didn't attend the school. Would they have seriously let him in?

"Is that fruit punch?" he asked.

"Probably." I shrugged. "Why?"

"You didn't drink it, did you?" he asked.

"Are you feeling okay?" I put my hand on his forehead.

Dan grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the school. "A better question is, are you feeling okay?"

When I thought about it, I could feel my face heating up, but that may have had to do with the embarrassing two minutes I had just experienced: Dan shouting my middle name and dragging me out of the school.

“Get in the car,” Dan said, gesturing toward a maroon Lumina, sitting in the pick-up lane. It was Chad’s mother’s car.

“Hey, Monica,” said Chad from the passenger seat. “Dan had no trouble getting you, I see.”

For a moment, I was seriously confused; Chad had called Dan by his name, instead of “Boss”, and he called me Monica instead of “The Girl“. When I gave Dan a questioning look, he nodded toward Chad’s mother, and then I understood: Dan had told The Guyz a lot of things, given all of the nicknames besides “Boss”, and Chad’s mother would have been downright confused and possibly suspicious.

The car took off, and as I opened my mouth to speak, Dan pressed a finger to his lips. And I knew Dan would explain everything soon.

We approached Tidal Park, and I said, “Thank you for taking us this far, ma’am. Dan and I can walk from here.”

The car slowed down, and I thought Chad’s mother was about to park, but Chad said, “Mom, if it’s not too much trouble, could Dan and Monica hang with us for a couple hours?”

“Of course, it’s no trouble,” said Chad’s mother, and she drove several blocks until the car stopped at a small brick house.

“Come on, guys,” said Chad as he led them into the house, and into a messy bedroom.

Chad and Dan sat down on the unmade bed, and Chad let out a heavy sigh. “Now that Mom’s gone…”

Dan placed his elbows on his thighs, and tapped his fingertips together. He turned to Chad. “I thank you for housing this meeting.”

“Sure, Boss,” said Chad. “Anything for The Girl.”

That was more like it. I closed the door and sank into a pile of clothes. I was able to make myself at home, for Dan and I spent a lot of time there, but not quite as much as we spent at Eric’s. Eric was the teenager who completed the trio of The Guyz, At that time, however, Eric had the flu. But sick or not, something told me that that he was Dan’s favorite of The Guyz.

“So, what’s this all about?” The suspense was killing me.

“Did you drink that fruit punch?” Dan asked.

“Well, hardly,” I said. “You knocked it out of my hands after the first sip.”

“Thank goodness you only had one sip!” Dan released a heavy sigh of relief. He took something that looked like Dad’s bag of aspirin. “Take one of these.”

“Why?”

“Take it first, then I’ll explain.”

I took the pill and looked at it for only a moment before tossing it into my mouth. “I can’t swallow it!” I hated taking pills

“Chew it up,” Dan ordered. “It won’t dissolve, you know.”

I grinded it up with my teeth. It tasted horrible.

“That’ll help with the swelling,” Dan murmured.

“Swelling?” I stared at my reflection in Chad’s window. My figure was distorted, but everything looked normal to me.

“Yes,” said Dan. “Feel your neck; your throat’s swollen.”

“Why?”

“You’re allergic.”

“To punch?” I asked sarcastically.

“Grapes,” Dan corrected me. “And it’s lethal if you have too much of it.”

“Oh, is that all?” I was in a very sarcastic mood all of a sudden

“And garlic,” Dan added.

“But Mom’s not allergic to-”

“Your dad is,” said Dan.

“Is it possible to have a fatal allergy?” I asked.

“Monica, don’t you remember when your dad was in the hospital?”

Of course, I remembered. It had only been three years ago, and it was not something one could easily forget:

Dan and I were called to the office (we were both in Elementary school, then). The grumpy, middle-aged woman who sat behind the desk said a Janet Ginger was here, and had said there was an emergency at home, and that we needed to leave immediately.

I had been scared, obviously, but Dan hadn’t seemed very concerned.

Mom drove us to the hospital, and on the way there, she explained that something had happened to Dad - something serious. - wait, it didn’t sound strange when she had said ‘your dad’ that time… weird -

The nurse had showed us to his room. Mom had opened the door and entered, but the nurse had refused to let Dan and me in.

“Doctor’s orders,” the nurse had murmured and walked away.

“They’re only allowing one visitor at a time? I had asked. “I thought it was something serious! What’s wrong with Dad? I want to see Dad!” I had put my ear up to the door, and had heard a beep! beep! sound. “What’s that sound, Dan?”

Dan had been hesitant to say, “It’s a heart monitor; it shows if his heart is beating or not.”

“You’re silly, Dan,” I had said. “Your heart’s always beating!” I put my ear up to the door again. “Mom’s crying.

Dan had started looking left and right. I couldn’t understand why he looked so worried, considering he and Dad never got along.

“Let’s go get a snack,” he had said. “They have a cafeteria downstairs, and they’re not going to let us SEE YOUR DAD anyway.”

I never understood why he had said “see your dad” that way.

“Whatever you say, ‘Boss’.”

We had walked through the hospital, weaving around corners in order to obey the signs directing us to the elevator. Four floors down, we had been some twelve yards from the cafeteria.

“Why was Mom crying, Dan?” I had demanded after Dan had gotten us both a bag of chips and a soda.

“Uh…”

Was that panic I had seen in his eyes?

“It was probably tears of joy that you were hearing.”

I had shrugged. “Maybe, but…”

A man around my dad’s age had looked at me from the cafeteria’s doorway. His gaze had given off a peculiar vibe; it was as though he knew me, but I didn’t know him.

“Monica, don’t look now, but there’s a bright yellow spider next to your shoe!” Dan had said.

Of course, I had looked. “Really funny, Dan. Maybe I’m not as smart as you, but I know that that’s not a spider; it’s mustard.”

“Would you look at that,” Dan had said carelessly. “You’re right; my bad. Let’s go see if they’ll let us in your dad’s room yet.”

“Did you see that man?” I had asked. “He was looking at me weird.”

“This is a hospital. There are lots of weirdoes here.”

“Yeah, but he looked kind of familiar-”

“I really think we should check on your dad.”

“Fine.”

I had obeyed. The nurse had let us in. The doctor had had a warm smile, and Dad had been in tip-top shape.

“What about it?” I asked Dan as the hospital room slowly faded away and Chad’s messy room came back into view.

“Allergies.”

“But Dan, what about that man?” I asked. “I’m telling you, he looked familiar!”

“That man has nothing to do with anything,” said Dan, who didn’t sound very convincing. “Just know to check the ingredient labels on everything. Check for grapes and garlic. Can you remember that?”

“Easy,” I replied, seriously tempted to yawn. “Garlic, grapes, and Ginger; they all start with ‘G’. This is basic Pre-K, Dan.”

“Did I tell you Eric called?” Chad asked.

Dan shook his head. “Is he doing better?”

“Yep,” said Chad. “He’ll be back in school tomorrow. Unfortunately, The Chicks all caught it.”

“Natasha said that only pigs say that,” I said.

Dan grumbled something inaudible. “Do you think your mom would mind taking Monica home? I don’t need to come with; I’m staying at Uncle Sam’s.”

‘Uncle Sam’ was another one of the L.S.P.P.’s names. Dan called my dad’s brother, Samuel, “Uncle Sam”, even though it was really his grandfather.

Dan gave me a look square in the eyes, and I knew that that was my cue to leave.

I asked Chad’s mother to drop me off at Tidal Park, and she granted my request.

To my dismay, Mom was waiting for me at the kitchen table - that was bad news; it meant we needed to talk.

I sighed, and took a seat opposite Mom. “What’s the topic for today?”

“Boys,” Mom replied. “And respect.”

“Huh?”

“Your Aunt Juliana called.”

“Oh.” I knew where this conversation was going. If that was the opening statement of my trial, I could expect a three-week sentence and a public apology.

“She said you were asking her girls for advice about boys-”

“Technically…” Dan was a boy, after all.

“Don’t interrupt, please, let me finish,” she said. “Your aunt also claimed that you said she had inflated ego… The defendant may now speak.”

“I was talking to them about the party,” I explained.

“Speaking of which, you’re home early. Why?” Mom didn’t mind interrupting me.

“I wasn’t really in the party mood.” It was a half-truth, and I reasoned that a half-truth was better than a lie. “And as far as Aunt Julie goes… Oh, Mom, you know she’s out to get me.”

“Hey, now,” Mom said. “Be fair. She is family, after all.”

“I don’t have to go over there in a dress and make a fancy-dancey apology, do I?” I asked. “You know I hate dresses!”

For a moment, Mom looked undecided, as though me wearing a frilly dress would be appropriate punishment.

“Please, Mom, don’t-”

“I’m not going to make you go over there and apologize,” she said.

“Thanks, Mom, I-”

“But you do have to call her and apologize.”

“Aw, Mom.” I said, “It’s her own fault. If she wasn’t out to get me…”

“Enough nonsense.” Mom stood up from the table. “Call her now.”

Guilty as charged! My sentence was set, and my trial was adjourned.

I called Aunt Julie, and, as I had expected, she was rude, arrogant, and wouldn’t hastily forgive me.

“Your mother’s forced you to do this, I take it?” she asked.

“I have noted my error, and will see to it that it does not reoccur.” It was very difficult for me to speak properly. “May you forgive me, Aunt Juliana?”

“Give me a moment, child,” she said. “I shall put you on hold while I come to my conclusion.”

I waited ten “moments” before she ever came back to the phone. “Being the kind and generous person I am, I suppose I may offer you my forgiveness.”

“Much appreciated, Aunt J-”

“On one condition.”

I should have known that was too easy. “What is the favor you would have me do you?”

“Oh, no, no, Monica, this is no favor.” I could tell, Aunt Julie was enjoying every bit of this. “This is to repair the wounds that your insults have left. I want you to groom Sparkle.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I could feel a scheme unfolding in my head. “Shall I be over promptly at eleven o’clock? Great. Good evening.”

Overall, I was proud of myself, for I would be in school at eleven, but Aunt Julie didn’t know that - or anything about public school, for that matter. Both her daughters were privately tutored, and as far as I was concerned, they were dodoes to boot.

I went to bed early that night, but my mind was restless: full of vampires, alcoholics, bad breath, and that man at the hospital.

When I awoke the next morning, everything, as usual, started out normal. During math, however, I was half-expecting to be called down to the office to go home and wash Aunt Julie’s poodle. But no one from the office called my name, and apart from some minor drowsiness, I felt fine.

When I arrived at Dan’s school at three o’clock, The Guyz were waiting for me with Dan - including Eric. His hair was a pale blond and buzzed.

“You’re not sick anymore,” I said.

“Nope.” Eric looked really happy and well. “You ready to go, Monica?”

Dan glared at him. To some, he looked like he might be sick, but I knew better; there were certain rules that the L.S.P.P guards had to follow, most of which I didn’t even know. I did know the first three, though.

1. No one could call me by name (this kept them from thinking of me as more than a friend…I shuddered at the thought).

2. No one could flirt with, go out with, or have any feelings for me. NO exceptions (again, I shudder).

3. Breaking any of these rules will result in banishment from L.S.P.P.

“Sorry, Boss, my bad,” said Eric. “Your ready to go, Girl?”

The next morning, everything that had happened between The Boss, The Guyz, and The Girl seemed non-existent - until I made it to Dan’s school that afternoon.

Something prevented me from going into the building: someone cried out, and the cry was immediately followed by a deep growl. My curiosity got the best of me, and I crept to the side of the building. The scene displayed before my eyes made me wonder if I was having a horrible nightmare. I pinched myself. I was awake.

Careful to keep in the shadows, I watched the horrible nightmare-like scenario enfold:

Eric was on the ground. He stood up and looked Dan square in the eyes.

“A duel to the death!” Dan declared, and without warning, punched Eric across the face.

Eric tried to return the attack, but Dan was faster and swifter.

Dan punched him again, twice more, then finished him off with a kick. “You are hereby banished from the line of guards for L.S.P.P. You no longer know us, nor we, you. Good bye, Eric.”

Eric ran as fast as his legs would carry him - or perhaps faster.

Dan looked at me, and I was so confused that I couldn’t even allow myself to look at his face; let alone his eyes.

“Girl,” said Chad, after noticing Dan couldn’t bring himself to explain. “He broke the second rule of conduct.”

My jaw dropped; I was aware of it, but couldn’t control it. “Eric had - has feelings for me?”

“This is one of those things that your parents don’t need to know about,” said Brad.

“Try to forget this happened,” said Dan.

“How could I forget this?” I asked. “Eric likes me! He has feelings for me!”

“Don’t be flattered too much,” said Dan. “It’s only Eric.”

“Flattered?” I repeated. “This is not flattering! This is downright disgusting! A guy? Me? Eew!”

I could have sworn I saw Dan give The Guyz (now a duo, no longer a trio) a “that’s-my-girl” look.

The lack of Eric’s presence in L.S.P.P. felt awkward for a few weeks - in addition to two years, and the awkwardness only ended then because -

“Monica!”

It was a Tuesday, near the end of summer break, and I had just turned eleven.

“What, Mom?” I asked after I swallowed my scrambled eggs.

“There’s a letter from… Cabot’s Academy for the Talented and Bright, addressed to you.”

Dan spit out his milk and snatched the envelope from Mom’s hands. Try as she might to hand on to it, she was no match for Dan’s newly buffed biceps.

“For real?” said Dan, who began ripping open the envelope. “You got in!”

“In?” I repeated. “I didn’t apply for this. I’ve never even heard of Cabot’s Academy.”

Everyone looked at Dan.

“I just wanted to see what would happen,” he explained. “And she is bright. And she did get in.”

“Are you going to let me read that?” I asked Dan, who handed me the letter. I read it through, double-checked the unbelievable parts, and then laid it on the table. “It says it’s a boarding school where geniuses, musicians, pop stars, actresses, authors, and inventors have been discovered, beginning ten years ago when William Cabot started the school. To this day, he is still in charge of the academy. I don’t know what Dan’s told them about me, but they must be convinced because I’ve got a scholarship!”

“A full one?” Mom asked.

“Not quite,” I answered. “It only covers board, but that’s a fair chunk of expenses. We have to wear uniforms and we get to come home for spring summer, and Christmas break.”

“You can’t come home on the weekends?” asked Mom.

I shook my head. “That’d be too expensive for me to fly from Alabama to New York City every week.”

“New York city?” Mom was speechless. Dan on the other hand…

“Isn’t that a little high-crime? I mean, it’s New York! New York, New York!”

“You didn’t do much research before sending in my application, did you?” I asked.

“Sure, I did!” said Dan. “I researched all the people who were discovered there! Yeah, they’re making it big, but do you really want to go to New York?”

I sighed. “I’ll sleep on it and talk to Dad tomorrow.”

Dan and I went up to my room, and we had our own little conference there. Dan started it.

“New York?” he said.

“New York.” I know he wasn’t going to make this easy.

“But I can’t protect you if you’re in New York,” Dan said.

Of course; ‘protect‘: the first P in L.S.P.P.

“Maybe the best way for me to go to New York,” I said. “It’d also be safer for you too, mind.”

“Come again?”

“It’d be safer for you because Dad couldn’t-”

“I mean, how is it safer for you?”

“Yes, how is this safe, Monica?” Dad asked.

“Thanks to you guys, I have a good head on my shoulders.” I figured it would be best to start out with a compliment. “I know better than to get mixed up in the wrong crowd. It’s a highly sophisticated school, and I think I can do well there.”

“Highly sophisticated?” Dad repeated. “What does that mean?”

“In contrast with public school, Cabot’s Academy has rules; thousands of them.” This argument was going faster than I had planned… but was it in my favor? “The rules concern the way we talk, act, dress, eat, and live! It’s wonderful!”

“I think we’d miss you too much,” said Mom.

“Mom, I’m eleven, not five,” I said. “And I’m sure none of you will complain about the absence of my parading around my good grades.”

My family was speechless, and I was certain that this was in the bag. “The schoolwork in public school is too easy for me. I’ll actually be challenged at Cabot’s.”

Dan wrinkled his nose. Mom looked at Dad to try and guess what he was thinking. Dad looked at Dan and an “I-am-so-good” smile planted itself across his face.

“It sounds like a very nice school,” said Dad. “You’re mother and I will have to discuss it, but I think it’s a fine idea.”

Mom and Dad went into their bedroom, and Dan and I listened at the door. I heard the words “Monica”, “freak”, “bad influence”, “good idea”, “bad idea”, “vacation”, “wonderful school”, “New York city”, and “John Cabot”. Silence followed, so Dan and I walked back into the living room.

“What was that about John Cabot?” Dan asked. “How does he - he was that guy from history, right? - how does he relate to this school, other than the fact that the school’s name is ‘Cabot Academy’?”

“He doesn’t,” I replied. “The owner of the school is William Cabot.”

“Oh,” said Dan. “When does term start, again?”

“August 23rd, same as everywhere else.” I replied.

“You do know that that’s about three week’s away, right?” said Dan.

“I do now.” I sighed. I wished my parents would just hurry up and say “yes”. I could hardly imagine a school where the people were bright, like me, and I could have friends who were my age, and wouldn’t envy my intelligence.

“Ahem.”

Mom and Dad had entered the room so subtly that I hadn’t even heard them.

“Have you decided?” I was so excited I couldn’t stand the suspense.

“I got to get to work,” said Dad.

“Can’t you come in late?” I asked. “It’s not like you’re going to fire yourself.”

“Well, no-”

“Are you going to le me go?” I asked.

Dad nodded.

“Alright!” I screamed.

“But only for one year,” said Mom.

I stared at her. Why would she make me go back to public school? What would be the point of going to Cabot’s if I was going to have to quit? Gingers weren’t quitters.

Mom seemed to comprehend my stare. “Oh, Monica, I didn’t mean you’d have to quit; not necessarily. Well, you might… It’ll be a trial period, okay? I mean, you may not like it there, or we may disagree with something there… if you get my meaning.”

“You’re actually going to let me go?” I thought I’d be speechless, but I managed. “No way! You guys, this is great! Oh my gosh, I am so far behind schedule! There’s - there’s shopping to do; lots of shopping, and then I have to pack it all! Mom, can we start right now?”

Dad gave Mom a “you’re-not-going-to-get-so-excited-that-you-start-getting-ready-right-now” look.

“You can manage in the restaurant without me, right?” said Mom.

I was gaping, I could have sworn I saw Dan’s eyes widen, and I thought I had seen Dad’s eyes narrow. I had never seen Mom get excited about shopping.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Dad seemed at a complete loss for anything else to say.

“Thanks, Robert,” said Mom. “I’ll only be a moment, Monica, just let me get my purse…”

“Uh-huh.” I finally managed to close my mouth. “I’ll wait by the car.” I left the house and leaned on Mom’s car. A million questions were zipping around on the highway that is my brain:

What freak were Mom and Dad talking about while I was eavesdropping? And why didn’t it take days for them to decide to send me to Cabot’s?

Are they trying to get rid of me? And why was Mom so excited about back-to-school shopping?

“Honey if you don’t get in the car, we’re never going to get everything you need and be back in time for supper.” So wrapped up in my thoughts, I hadn’t heard Mom come out and get in the Cadillac.

“Er, right,” I got in the backseat of the Cadillac and buckled up. I could see Mom in her rear-view mirror. She was smiling, but why? Then, something occurred to me. “Mom, where are we going to find uniforms? None of the stores in town are going to carry them.”

“Monica, we’re not shopping in town. No, we’re going to the mall!”

The word “mall” echoed in my head; perhaps I was searching for its definition, for it had been so long - years, in fact - since I had been there. “But Mom, the nearest… mall… is nearly an hour away.”

Mom’s smile was broader than I had ever seen it; so broad, in fact she had dimples on either side of her mouth. “Special times call for special trips,” she said.

“But with gas prices at 2.79 per gallon-”

“Now, now,” she said. “It’s not your job to worry about the budget.”

Amen, to that, I thought to myself. My school supplies were going to cost a bundle. I couldn’t afford to even think bout our budget.

“Now, let’s see…” Somehow, Mom seemed unable to keep quiet. As if the silence was getting to her. “We’ll have to get your uniform, like you said… We have to get your books, don’t we? Or are they going to provide them? Did it say?”

“They provide them,” I said.

Mom nodded. “okay, and we’ll drop by Bob*Mart on the way home. Sound good?” Bob*Mart was the local department store.

“Um, yeah,” I said. “But what for?”

“Oh, you know, just the necessities.”

I wondered if Mom was only buttering me up, so it would be an even bigger blow when she decided to ground m me for not washing Aunt Julie’s dog.

The car-ride to the mall was long, and I knew this, so I tried to go to sleep; no success whatsoever, whether it was because Mom was unable to keep the silence, or because I was simply excited by all the recent news, but in any event, I stayed awake the whole time.

In that time, Mom talked more than I’d ever heard her talk before. She talked about everything, starting with, “I saw on the cover of this magazine…” going on to say, “and the other day at the restaurant…”, and ending with “so how’s school been?”

“Um, alright, I guess.” For some reason or other, I didn’t feel like opening up to Mom: telling her how I sat at the Social Rejects’ table every day; how I was teased, mocked, and excluded because of my intelligence; how even the nerds swore my brains were impossible - that I was wired! “The school hasn’t changed much. I get along with most all of my classmates, I’m pretty popular, and the other kids admire my brilliance.”

“Then, why, may I ask, is Cabot’s any better than George Willfin’s?”

“It just is, Mom,” I replied. “I’ve just got that feeling; you know the one when you just know that you know that you know that you know that you’re doing what’s right.”

Mom laughed, but said nothing - which was exactly what I was going for.

We arrived at the mall, where a massive crowd swarmed. What was the special occasion?

Perhaps because she noticed my wide eyes and open mouth, Mom said, “Think we can handle that?”

“You mean we’re shopping with that?” I asked. Mom was always crowdaphobic.

Mom laughed.

I got out of the car. “Is it always this crowded?”

“Pretty much,” Mom replied.

I took a deep breath and analyzed the crowd; it was like a test on a subject I hadn’t yet taken. To pass the test, I had to examine the questions - or in this case, people - and use logic to answer them.

Mom and I crossed the parking lot, and opened the doors to the mall, where the crowd was even bigger! Noting everyone’s careless attempts to enter stores and make their purchase (some of which succeeded, others who did not), I chose my strategy. I weaved, bobbed, zigzagged and ran. If you have ever been to a mall before, I don’t have to tell you I got trampled by the stampede.

“Monica.” Mom put her hands firmly on my shoulders. “This-” she gestured all around her, “- is a mall. People shop here for fun.”

“Mm-hmm.” I nodded, absorbing information like a dry sponge about this foreign land. “Okay.”

“So lay off the robo-mode.”

“What?

“Monica, this isn’t exam day at Harvard.”

“I - huh?” I couldn’t understand… was she telling me to chill out?

“Shopping is a leisure activity, not a test.” Was Mom getting frustrated? “You don’t have to think, you just-”

“But if we don’t think, we’d end up buying something really expensive, and-”

“You don’t have to think, but only to a certain extent. Relax and follow my lead.”

I nodded. After all, if I couldn’t survive a trip to the mall, how would I make it at Cabot’s?

For a few minutes, I enjoyed the silence - although it wasn’t really silence because the crowd of people was unnecessarily loud. Though at the time, I couldn’t grasp why, Mom broke the silence again.

“I can’t believe this is the first time I’ve taken you to the mall since you were two! Do you remember? Hmm, I guess you wouldn’t, huh? Since you’re going to school in New York now, I guess we won’t have many more trips like this, will we?”

Then, I understood - I was sure I did. Many people have a mental list (actually, some people put it to paper, but…) of “things to do before you die”, but for Mom, it was more like a list of “things to do before Monica moves out”. Or maybe she had both lists? Maybe this was the mother-daughter shopping spree on her list. Why had I never seen this side of my mom before? And why did she have to show me this side of her three weeks before I went to New York? I felt guilty for leaving. “Um, let’s get shopping, Mom.” It was all I could do to keep my voice from cracking. I was determined to make this day great, for Mom’s sake… and my own.

We walked through the mall together, and she laughed as she showed me “the blind man” technique: you walk straight for your destination, turning, never, and trampling anyone in your path. Many others, Mom pointed out, were using “the bump”, commonly known as a dance move, but also a push-people-around shopping technique. Mom was enjoying herself, and though I hated shopping, I had to admit, that for some strange reason, I was, too.

“Ah, there it is.” Mom pointed to a shop where, according to the mannequins’ outfits, uniform-type clothing was sold.

We walked in. “Enough blind walk,” Mom laughed as my newly-learned “blind man’s walk” let me straight into a shelf.

“Ouch.” I rubbed my head, for I could feel a goose egg growing. But if it hurt so terribly, then why was I laughing?

“The changing rooms are right over there, Monica,” Mom said. “You go on in. I’ll bring you some clothes to try on.”

“Okay,” I said, and I walked over to the changing rooms, where a woman behind the desk stared at my face. She didn’t look very friendly.

“How many?”

I blinked in confusion. “Um, about eleven.” She was referring to my age, right?

The woman smiled an ugly, sarcastic smile. “Funny.”

“Is that a problem, ma’am?”

“Six is the limit, young lady,” the woman replied.

A girl stepped out of a stall - though I could hardly call her a girl; she looked about twenty.

“But she’s a LOT older that six!” This shopping thing was so complicated… how did people find the fun?

I heard a nervous/excited laugh from behind me. “Four, please,” said Mom.

The woman unlocked a stall that the about-twenty-year-old had just come out of.

“What was she talking about?” I asked as Mom gave me an outfit to try on, and I stepped inside the stall, locking the door behind me. “Four? Six is the limit? I mean, she wasn’t talking about age; I’ve established that.”

“Items, Monica.” Mom spoke as though it were obvious. Was I really that naïve? Or was Mom just really good at this shopping thing?

I looked at the shirt and skirt Mom had asked me to try on. Both were red. After staring at them for a couple minutes, I started to put them on, but then I looked at the skirt more closely. I wasn’t searching for specific details; I was looking for the tag, for if what I had read in books was accurate (it usually was), the skirt should have been much longer than this. The skirt Mom had given me looked like little more than the miniskirts that The Pops were petitioning the school to allow in the dress code.

I opened the stall door and looked Mom square in the eyes. “You think you’re really funny, don’t you?”

Mom laughed, but only for a second. “It was just a joke.”

I rolled my eyes. If Mom’s like this just because I’m going to New York, what would she be like when…?

“These should work much better,” said Mom.

For whatever reason, Mom seemed to be amused. I, on the other hand, was a little annoyed. But I wasn’t about to tell Mom that, so I forced a smile.

Mom handed me a larger outfit, and I went into the stall to try it on.

The red skirt ended in the middle of my knee, the pleats folded perfectly. It wasn’t took tight, and it wasn’t falling down. The red shirt was warm, its white collar was comfortable, and its tag wasn’t itch. It wasn’t baggy, and it wasn’t so tight that I felt like I’d rip a seam; it was perfect. I no longer had to force a smile; it flowed naturally.

As I studied my reflection in the stall’s mirror, I felt more confident about going to Cabot’s. It was as though every insult that had been thrown at me had become a sincere compliment; as though all my troubles had melted away. I was, in every way, ready for Cabot’s Academy.

“Monica, how’s it fit?”

Mom’s voice shook me from my thoughts, and I opened the stall door.

“Wonderful,” said Mom. “But it’s missing a tie.”

“A tie?” I repeated. I sighed heavily. “Fine, but if we do that, then we have to buy another book.”

“What?”

“You know that I don’t know hot to-”

“-how to tie a tie, you’re right,” said Mom. “You know what? We‘ll make Robert teach you.”

“Robert?” I repeated. “Oh, you mean Dad, right. I haven’t heard you use Dad’s name in so long. ‘Cause I don’t ever hear you guys’ conversations - not that I try to, but then sometimes it’s so intriguing… I’m going to just shut myself up now, if you don’t mind.”

Lucky for me, Mom didn’t really comprehend what I was saying; she was skimming the list she had brought. “You change, and I’ll go get the tie,” she said. “Blue and white stripes…”

I sighed and quickly changed back into my clothes.

By the time I had finished changing, Mom was already back with four duplicates of the uniform I had just taken off, along with five ties, and five rolls of blue tube socks.

“Come on,” Mom beckoned. “I need the outfit you were wearing; your uniform. I got to check out or we won’t have time to go everywhere else we need to go.”

“Alright, okay.” I handed her the uniform, and as the cashier rung it all up, I was adding it all up in my head:

Ushirt = $10.00

+ 10% tax

$11.00

+ Uskirt = $12.00 (10%)

$24.20

x 5

$121.00

+ tube socks = $4.99 (10%)

$5.49

x 5

$27.55

$148.55

+ blue&white tie = $7.80 (10%)

$8.58

x 5

42.90

Grand Total = $191.44

I could not believe that nearly two-hundred dollars had gone out of Mom’s wallet to pay for my uniform.

And we still had all the rest of my supplies left to buy. I saw my allowances, birthday presents, and Christmas presents for the next two years floating away.

We went to the next store; spent MORE money. We went to another store and spent money there, too. Then, we went out to eat; there went more money. And even after that, when I was sure that Mom would be paying off loans long after I graduated Cabot’s, Mom insisted we go by Bob*Mart.

I sighed. Dan had called me stubborn before, and after Mom had bought new stuff (like my toothbrush, pajamas, hairbrush, etc.) to replace my older ones - which worked just fine, mind you - after I had begged her not to, I realized from which parent I had inherited the gene.CHAPTER 3

The next three weeks passed by almost unnoticed. Together, Dad and Dan managed to teach me how to tie my tie, and I was packed and ready for New York. We couldn’t afford enough plane tickets for everyone, so Mom and I had to go alone.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Dan asked.

Listening to Dan whine would have been downright hilarious if I hadn’t been so close to tears. “I’ll miss you too, Dan.”

“We’ll be counting down the days ‘till you come home, Sweet Pea,” Dad said.

“I’ll have fun,” I said. “And I’ll tell you all about it, come Christmas.”

Dan shook his head. “You’ll write… if they’ll let you.” He handed me about a hundred envelopes, already addressed and stamped

I smiled. I had never had to say goodbye like that before, and then I learned why there were so dreaded; having to say goodbye to my family like that almost made me want to stay home.

I hugged each of them before Mom and I took our seats in the car. We pulled out of our driveway, and I took a final glance at Dan and Dad, Christmas feeling further away than ever.

Most of the people on the plane, I noticed, slept three-quarters of the flight. But I couldn’t, and Mom wouldn’t. That confident feeling I had had weeks before was gone, and replaced a nervous feeling. An evil voice whispered in my ear every possible thing that could go wrong and I was starting to feel sick. Yep, I felt just great.

“You’ll do great,” said Mom, trying to sound comforting.

“I know,” I sighed.

“Then, what’s bothering you?” she asked.

I sighed again. “I’m just nervous, I guess.”

“Well, that’s good, Monica,” she said. “It’s better to go somewhere new unsure of yourself, and impressing yourself at how well you do, than to go somewhere all cocky, and end up disappointing yourself by not living up to your massive expectations.”

“II guess that makes sense,” I said. “But it still doesn’t make me feel better.”

Mom sighed. “Just read.”

“I already finished my books… but wait…” I could hear Dan’s voice in my head saying, “Music speaks the language of the heart, mind, and soul. It knows what your heart’s saying before your heart does; the upbeat music can lift your spirits, and awaken your soul, and it can jog your memory with three notes.”

I opened the bag-like purse Mom had bought for me, and pulled out Dan’s portable CD player. I opened the disk compartment, where I found a CD that Dan had mixed.

List of Tracks

#1 You’re My Angel - Belinda Dijon

#2 Why Shouldn’t I? - Haylie Dotts

#3 I Wanna Have Fun - Cheryl Brothe

#4 Grin - Vitamin A

#5 Nowhere But Up - Cheyenne Twine

#6 Break Free - Kelsey Clark

#7 Better Living - Christ Burpan

#8 I Go To You - Chrissy Lerlap

#9 You Care For Me - Hope Mound

#10 My Little Girl - Bob Privvet

Just looking at the list of tracks was enough for me. Track 1: Dan’s and my song. Track 2 was Dan’s way of telling me to take chances. Like going to Cabot’s, I said in my head. Track 3 was about having fun; something I only hoped I would achieve at Cabot’s. Track 4’s messaged was to keep my chin up; it wasn’t as easy as it looked. Track 5 reminded me that the best part about feeling bad knew that things could only get better. Track 6 was, to me, the story of my life; how I didn’t fit in before, and now I was going to Cabot’s to make a fresh start. Track 7 reminded me that life gets better. Track 8 was another one of Dan’s and my songs. Track 9 was our way of thanking each other for always being there for each other. Track 10 was Dan’s song, to me, about how I’d always be his little girl.

I listened to the CD twice, and then fell asleep on the third time around.

I awoke to Mom nudging me, saying, “We’re there, Monica. We’re in New York.”

I remember nothing of the drive to the school; I think it’s because I was so scared.

When we arrived at the school, I had already been assigned a dorm. I was supposed to unpack my stuff there while Mom did some paperwork (I said goodbye to her then). But the school was so huge! How was I supposed to find my dorm - and memorize the whole school in the three days I had before term started?

I looked around. There were a lot of people wandering about. Two boys, I noticed, had a map of the school. Maybe I could find my dorm after all…

“Hi,” I said, and tapped the shoulder of the boy with dark brown hair.

He and his friend turned around. “Hi,” he said uncertainly.

I just stood there for a moment. The boy with brown hair - I knew why he was there. He was there because of his talent. He was the best youth basketball player in the country! Many a time had Dan and I watched him play on TV. He was Nick Porker.

The boy next to Nick was clearly there for talent also, for he couldn’t have been there for brains. His appearance was that of a slacker: untucked shirt with rolled up sleeves. Something got to me, though; he looked like a younger version of Eric (whom, according to Dan, “no longer knows us, nor us, him“).

“You’re Nick Porker!” The words just fell out of my mouth.

“Mm-hmm,” said Nick, as though it were no big deal. “And this is Lee Sooplex.”

I reluctantly shook Lee’s hand. His palms were sticky, as though they hadn’t recently been washed. Eew…

“Anyway, I was hoping I could borrow your map for a minute,” I said. “I need to find my dorm.”

“Us, too,” said Nick. “I’m in dorm…” he checked a piece of paper. “…A105.”

“Why’s that so confusing?” I asked as I studied the map more carefully. “A Hall - that’s way up there, top floor - is where the freshmen dorms are, which explains the ’A’ in your room number. The ‘1”… that’s the hall where the boy’s dorms are because obviously girls’ and boys’ dorms are kept separate… Then, ‘05’… it’s in alphabetical order… it says that ‘05’ is ‘M’ through ‘O’. But shouldn’t you be in ‘P’ through ‘R’?”

Nick nodded. “Yeah, we know. I’m in ‘05’, but should be in ‘06’, Lee’s in ‘04’, but should be in ‘08’, and you… what’s your name?”

“Oh, my name’s Monica Ginger: I said. “I’m in dorm A205, but I guess I should be in ‘03’, huh?”

“So, you see the problem, Moni-”

“Wait!” I said. “I don’t know why, but the dorms are in alphabetical order for our first names… strange.”

We walked together to A Hall, but had to split up at 1 and 2. Unlike them, I hesitated, which means I heard what Lee was whispering to Nick: “So, the rumors are true; some braniac-lunatics do actually come here looking for friends of their own species.” He scoffed, and Nick snickered. So much for meeting friends there.

I ran down A Hall 2 as fast as I could, desperately searching for my dorm, half-wishing it was my room at home.

“Are you alright?” a girl in my dorm asked. “You look like you just got punched in the gut.”

“You’re not here because of your intelligence, by change?” I asked.

She shook her black hair. She looked Asian. “No. I’m a fair drawer, though. But I’m mostly here because of my… problems.”

“You have a disability?” I guessed.

“I have GQS,” she replied. “Gossip Queen Syndrome.”

I laughed. She seemed friendly enough, but I was careful to remember her as unreliable to keep secrets. “My name’s Monica, by the way; Monica Ginger.”

“Better than mine,” she said. “Ophelia Oadebhor.”

“Mine’s not as great as you thing,” I said. “My middle name’s Orion.”

“Da-ang!” she said. “What your parent’s thinking’? What’re mine thinking? Ophelia?”

“Would it be okay if I just called you Leah?” I asked.

Ophelia shrugged. “Whatever.” Maybe she wasn’t as friendly as I had thought.

I sighed and lay down on a bed. I knew I needed to unpack, but I wanted much more to listen to Cheyenne Twine sing Nowhere But Up.

“ Um, you might want to wake up,” said a girl with grayish, brownish hair.

“Why’s that?” I asked, my eyes still closed, and wondering when, exactly, I had fallen asleep.

“It’s time for dinner,” the girl said. “I’m Nellie, by the way; Nellie Birmingham.”

I smiled. Nellie looked friendly. But then, so did Leah. And Lee. And Nick.

“I’m Monica,” I said. “Monica-”

“Ginger,” Nellie finished. “I know. The whole school knows.”

“I’m not the only kid here who’s smart, am I?” I asked.

“Well, no,” Nellie replied. “But you’re the only kid in our grade who got a full scholarship!”

“It wasn’t a full scholarship,” I said.

“Yours is the closest thing to a full scholarship that anyone in our grade’s gotten.”

“What about Nick Porker?” I asked.

“Okay, he got one, too,” said Nellie. “But you got your scholarship because you’re smart! No one else did.”

Great, I said to myself. I’m gonna be “little miss genius freak” again.

“Come on,” Nellie said. “If we start looking now, we may find the dining hall before dinner’s over.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to look at the map?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Nellie replied. “If you’ve got one.”

“Maybe we don’t, but they do,” I mumbled. “Follow me.”

I took her to A Hall 1 and found dorm A105. Nick seemed nicer than Lee, so I hoped that he was the one with the map. I knocked.

Nick opened the door (to my relief). “What are you doing here? This is the boys’ dorm.”

“Exactly what I was saying,” said Nellie.

“Do you two honestly think I don’t know that?” I snapped. “I just want to check your map to find the dining hall.”

“Okay, but be quick,” said Nick.

“Boy, we’re pathetic,” said a boy on one of the beds. “The first girl to visit our dorm’s the brainiac… I was hoping it’d be a babe….”

“She’s the pathetic one,” said another boy. “If she thinks she could hang in our dorm. What a loser!”

“Believe me,” I said. “If I wanted to hang with a guy, I wouldn’t look in this pig sty.”

“Girl’s got nerve,” I heard someone mutter before I left their dorm. I knew where the dining hall was, and simply couldn’t wait to vanish from their sight.

The dining hall had circular tables scattered across the room, and a long line stretched out from where the food was being served

I stood in line for what seemed like hours, when a boy with spiky black hair and his posse cut in front of me.

“Excuse you,” I retorted.

“Whatever, Garlic,” the boy said.

“My name is Ginger. Monica Ginger.” Why was it that, no matter what school I attended, people refused to call me by name?

“Like it matters,” he muttered.

When it finally became my turn to get my food, I found - not the Tuesday surprise, but - club sandwiches, a salad bar, and soups! There were hand burgers, pasta, and pudding, too! The hardest part was deciding what I could eat (considering Dan’s warning about my allergies). The sandwiches looked fine, and the salad looked garlic-free, but the soup seemed questionable. The hamburgers couldn’t possible have garlic, could they? And who’d ever heard of garlic-flavored pudding? The pasta on the other hand… I decided it wasn’t best to bet on that one.

I brought my sandwich, salad, and mil to Nellie’s table, which, incidentally, was right next to Nick’s and Lee’s.

I wanted to take in everything about everyone, so I tried to listen to as many conversations as possible. I gathered that:

Nellie’s at Cabot’s because of her writing.

Lee’s there because of his checker skills.

Leah keeps a mental record of everything said and done by everyone she meets (this explains her GQS)

Nick and his gang were not the only people who considered me a different species.

The next day, we met our teachers:

Miss Macintosh taught Math. She liked order in her classroom, and I knew that I could, at least, impress her.

Mr. Finklebury taught Vocabulary. He was, but far, the friendliest person I had met at Cabot’s. His rules were lax in his class, but the students seemed to like him so much, I doubted if rules were even necessary.

Health was taught by Mr. Kendin. All the kids thought he was strange; he talked to himself a lot.

Science was taught by Mr. Sankter. I didn’t like his glare at all. His lips curled in a way that he could say “expelled” at any time. However, he said he accepted nothing less than perfection, and I knew I’d do well.

Miss Hukra taught the girls’ PE class (yes, Cabot’s had gender-segregated PE classes). I got no vibe from her, whatsoever. It was as though she would teach on a basic teaching scale. She was strongly normal compared to the other teachers.

I was so excited about the start of term that I couldn’t believe I had to wait another day to get started. So, I spent my extra day arranging everything in the dorm for efficiency. However, there were a few complications…

“It’s got to look fab,” said Leah.

“What’s wrong with having a uniform on the outside of my bed?” I asked. “It’d save a lot of time.”

“It’s about as tacky as a lava lamp,” she said.

I know I said that Leah seemed nice and all, but why did she think lave lamps were tacky?

“We’ll divide the dorm, okay?” said Nellie. “In equal parts. Monica can decorate her half…efficiently… and Ophelia’s can be ‘fab’.”

“No,” I said. “Equal isn’t necessary. The area around my bed will be my area, and I will do with it as I please. The rest can be discussed between you two and the other two who aren’t in here.”

“Fine,” Leah said.

I got out my lava lamp and plugged it in with pride. I tookay out the pillowcase I had packed that read: “no one can make you feel inferior without your consent” and shoved my pillow inside it. I got everything prepared: pencils sharpened; pens laid out. Everything was perfect… except the next day.

First class was Vocabulary. Mr. Finklebury had a spelling bee to see how much we knew. No surprise, I was the last one standing.

“Ginger, isn’t it? he said. I nod. “If you can get that good a scholarship, can you spell ‘register’?” he asked.

“R-E-G-I-S-T-E-R.”

Mr. Finklebury spat out word after word, trying, in vain, to stump me. Finally, he came to “antidisestablishmentarianism.”

“A-N-T-I-D-I-S-E-S-T-A-B-L-I-S-H-M-E-N-T-A-R-I-A-N-I-S-M.”

“But can you define it?”

I was lucky he hadn’t asked me to define any of the other words, for I had guessed on quite a few. This one, however, I knew by heart. “Someone who is against those who oppose a church-state connection.”

Immediately after I finished talking, I realized it was the wrong thing to say. I singled myself out; practically proclaimed myself a brainiac. I had become the class enemy on my first day in Vocabulary, so I said nothing else until class was over. Lee and Nick were both in my Vocabulary class and Lee lookayed at me as though I were grime in a sewer pipe.

Note to self: when trying to make friends, don’t be yourself.

Miss Hukra’s PE class was next, and since the boys’ class and girls’ class were separate, it is needless to say that Lee and Nick were not in my class.

After Miss Hukra made us “hit the showers” - which I found unbearably uncomfortable- she announced the sport we’d be playing.

“Volleyball. Let’s see how many of you know how to play already. I was about to raise my hand when she interrupted, “-no, not by show of hands, no, you’re just going to play, and I will be the judge on whether or not you know how.”

Unfortunately, I wasn’t very good at volleyball. I could play basketball, football, baseball, etc. But I was never god at the more girl sports like volleyball, badminton, or hula-hooping. After all, I hung out with Dan’s friends. The thought of Chad and a hula hoop…scary.

I got hit in the head with the volleyball several times, and once, when I was rubbing my head, I say a group of boys peeking through the window of the door. I never thought I’d agree with Natasha, but boys are P-I-Gs; pigs.

Health was next, but I was so sickened by the boys’ appearance in my last class, that I didn’t really want to listen to Mr. Kendrin talk about the human body, but I did it anyway.

“Today, we’re going to talk about weight,” said Mr. Kendrin. “Yes, Tim, I know it’s impolite to ask a female her weight!”

A few other kids and I lookayed around. No one in the class’s name was Tim… Mr. Kendrin was weird.

Very few people understood the lesson, I think, because after a while, my classmates started ignoring Mr. Kendrin.

After the bell rang, several people asked me, “Did you catch the assignment, by chance? Of course, you would.”

Luckily, Nick and Lee weren’t in Health (if they were, I might’ve slapped them for their appearance in girls’ PE).

Next class was Science (it tookay a while for me to get used to all of my classes being in different rooms, on the same day).

Mr. Sankton gave us homework on the first day (I finally felt at home at Cabot’s):

“Today we’ll be voting,” said Mr. Sankton.

“On what?” Lee asked - yes, he was in my Science class… Nick too.

“You idiot, Mr. …?”

“Sooplex,” said Lee. “Lee Sooplex.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Soupless.”

“It’s Sooplex.”

Mr. Sankton scoffed, as though he couldn’t really care less about what Lee’s last name was.

“Whatever.” Lee rolled his eyes.

“I heard that Mr. Wander,” said Mr. Sankton. “And while I’m at it, I should remind you all that back-talking is against the rules of my classroom.”

I raised my hand, but didn’t wait for him to learn my name. “Sir, what were you saying? About voting, I mean,”

“I was getting there, kid,” he said. “All those who prefer their first name to their last name, gather at one end of the room, and those who prefer their last name to their first name, gather at the other end.

I was in the end where people preferred their first name. Nick and Lee were there too - with names like Porker and Soopllex, it’s no surprise.

On the other end was Leah - I’d rather be known by Oadebhor than Ophelia, too… I think.

“Okay you all long enough,” said Mr. Sankton. “By now, you all should have memorized the periodic table of elements. But then, with some of you, I have my doubts… Anyhow, you’ve each selected your letter already.”

“We have?” Lee asked.

“Yes, you idiot,” said Mr. Sankton, “when you decided which name you’d rather be called by. Your letter is your initial. Now, you all can pair up in groups of two or three and you’ll do a report on the element of your initial.”

A couple people snickered before grabbing their friend to partner up. I, on the other hand, was lost. Who was I supposed to be partners with?

“Monica?” said Lee from behind me.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” said Lee.

“Sure, why not,” said Nick to Lee.

“Fine,” said Lee.

“Monica, you want to be partners with me and Lee?” Nick asked.

“Lee and me,” I corrected.

“Huh?”

“Never mind,” I said, thinking. Nick and Lee weren’t the friendliest of sorts, but somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to say “no”. “Sure,” I said.

In the long run, I was glad I partnered with them. In the short run, however…

“Two days left!” I said to Lee and Nick five days after our Science assignment.

“Uh…” Lee groaned as he drank his mango juice.

“I bet you haven’t done your Math homework, either.” Miss Macintosh had assigned a review page of multiplication and division tables to get everyone on the same page.

“Just because you’re our partner, doesn’t mean that you’re our homework advisor,” said Lee. “So, stop the nagging.”

“Fine,” I said. “I was going to help you decide between Lithium, Lanthanum, Lutetium, and Lawrencium for your report. But I can take a hint; my help’s not wanted. I’ll go work on my Molybdenum report.” I walked away, and they didn’t’ stop me. But why should I care if I didn’t have a partner? And what should it matter to me if they failed?

Whether it should have mattered or not didn’t matter. ‘Cause it did matter. To me.

I walked to my dorm, wondering what there was left to do. Despite what I told those boys, my Science report was finished.

I put Nowhere But Up on the portable CD player. After I had listened to it about five times, there was a knock at the door to the dorm.

I got up, and opened the door. When I saw Nick and Lee in the doorway, I was about to slam the door in their faces, but Lee stuck his foot in the way.

“Let us in,” said Nick; I obeyed.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“I don’t know anything about Nickel,” Nick said quickly. “We - we need your help.”

I crossed my arms, but then decided to put them on my hips instead. “Well, I daresay, it took the two of you long enough. Sit.”

They sat down on my bed, and we discussed everything I knew. About the elements.

I took a deep breath and said, “Nick, Nickel’s symbol is ‘N’. It’s atomic number is twenty-eight, and has an atomic mass of fifty-eight, point, seventy-one.”

“Slow down,” he said. “Let me write that down…”

“As for you, Lee,” I said. “I think we’ll try something sneaky, if that suits you.”

“I can roll with that,” Lee replied. I only hoped he was more enthusiastic than he sounded.

“okay,” I said. “Then, you’ll go with Lead. Its symbol is ‘Pb’. Its atomic number is-”

“Did you say ‘Pub’?” Lee asked.

I nodded. “The elements don’t get much sneakier than that. As I was saying, its atomic number is eighty-two, and it’s got an atomic mass of two-hundred-and-seven, point twenty-one.”

“Got it.” Lee closed his notebook.

“That’s not everything,” I said. “How pathetic would a report with be, if it only had the information I gave you just now? No depth! Tsk, tsk. Lee write down ‘electron configuration equals negative eighteen, thirty-two, eighteen, four’. Nick, you write ‘electron configuration equals two, eight, sixteen, and two’.”

“Right,” said Nick. “Anything else?”

“Well, of course,” I said. “But we’ll have to go to the library. Don’t know if we’ll have to use book or the web…”

“Oh, so this - it takes you more than a couple minutes to whip all this up?” Lee asked.

“Of course, it does,” I said. “What did you think? That I use a cheat sheet?” I was trying to be funny, but then they didn’t say anything. “Is that what you thought?”

“Well, yeah,” said Lee.

“How dare you?”

“Well, you didn’t - I mean, you -” Nick sputtered.

“How dare you?” I said again.

“Then how did you get that scholarship?” Nick asked.

“I’m smart?”

“You don’t sound so confident,” said Lee, staring me down closely.

“Even if I did cheat, what difference would it make to you?”

“So, you are a fake!”

“No. I’m smart.”

“Nobody’s that smart.”

“Shows what you know.”

“Ah, see; you just proved my point.”

“Monica, what Lee means to say is, we know about your perfect, 110% GPA,” said Nick. “This is yours.” He handed me my homework folder.

“You stole this?” I accused. “You believed I was cheating because you that if I was cheating, then I wouldn’t mind helping you cheat!”

“Don’t you think you’re jumping to conclusions a bit quickly?: Nick asked.

“Don’t you have basketball practice to go to?” I snapped. It was not my day.

“They haven’t had try-outs yet,” Lee pointed out.

“Oh, please,” I said. “Everyone knows you’ll make the team without even trying.”

“Come on, Nick,” said Lee. “Let’s go.”

I really wanted to let them go. How great my life would be without them! They were incompetent cheaters, but somehow, I couldn’t let them walk through that door. But then also, I wanted to tell them to stop where they were; that I was sorry for being rude; that I was so smart because books had been my only friends for a long time; that I had looked for a life free of teasing at Cabot’s, but failed. Every issue that had caused me to cry myself to sleep so many nights that week was ready to spill out of my mouth. I had more self-control than to let that happen, though.

Dumb self-control…

“Wait, you guys, stop,” I cried. “We’re partners. If you don’t want to be friends, than that’s fine, too, but I’m not letting you get in the way of my A-plus!”

“See, that’s your problem,” said Lee.

“Uh-uh,” I said. “Our grade; our problem.”

“Don’t you ever just have fun?” Lee asked. “You’re like the Teacher-Pet-bot 3000. You take everything so seriously! We’ve got the info. on our elements, so we’re no longer in need of your assistance. Don’t need you; don’t want you. Goodbye.”

They left.

I had been used, and I knew it. I needed someone to talk to; a shoulder to cry on; a sympathetic friend. I needed Dan.

I opened my briefcase (Mom had chosen it over the backpacks), and took out a sheet of paper. I couldn’t speak to Dan verbally, but I could write him a letter:

Dear Dan,

These last few days at Cabot’s have been awful. I was wrong about people here being like me; they’re not. They hate me here. I’m the freak show. Again. I want to go home and never come back!!

Sincerely,

Monica (a.k.a braniac freak)

Of course, I knew I couldn’t send that. Mom would take me home. At least, at Cabot’s, I didn’t have to sit with the Social Rejects.

I folded the letter, and put it in my pillowcase. I took out a fresh sheet of paper, and started over:

Dearest Family,

Cabot’s is an amazing school. It was everything I had dreamt of and more!

Guess who I met here? Nick Porker! He’s okay, but can you blame him for not hanging out with me? He’s famous…

I’ve got myself settled in my dorm, but have loads of homework! I can’t wait until Christmas!

Love,

Monica

I sounded pretty convincing, didn’t I? I couldn’t dwell on that thought for long, though, for I needed to fin out where to go to mail my letter.

I left my dorm, but I wasn’t exactly sure where to go from there. Because it was still sunny out, I decided I’d look outside first. Getting outside, however…

It didn’t take me long to get outside because I got lost. I did get lost, but that’s not why it took me so long. I got distracted:

After about ten minutes of wandering around the school, I found myself in the library. And what a library it was! I so wanted to get my hands on one of those books, but then I saw the prime distraction: Nick and Lee. Why did they have to be everywhere that I was? How annoying!

Despite how annoying they were, I kept my eyes on them. Something about them didn’t sit right with me… or maybe it did sit right with me? Hmm… Anyway, I watched carefully. They were writing, but what?

I stood there for twenty minutes, watching them struggle to write whatever it was they were writing.

Then, a group of boys walked past me. “Hey, Porker!” they said. “Want to shoot some hoops?” They looked older than Nick.

“Yeah, sure,” said Nick, who put down his pencil and stood up.

A woman with short, curly, gray hair walked over to Nick. “How many times do I have to tell you hooligans to stop shouting like baboons in my library?! Out! Out! All of you GET OUT!”

Nick dragged Lee out of the library. I supposed they were going to play basketball with the older boys.

Once they were gone, I marched toward their table - quietly, of course, lest I make the librarian cross…er. Lucky for me, Nick and Lee had left their papers on the table. It was their reports for Science class.

I took out my red pen; their reports could use some work. I marked spelling errors, places where paragraphs were needed, and added notes where they left out key information.

After half an hour of proofreading their reports, I was able to sigh, proudly, “My work here is done.” I left the papers on the table, hoping they would come back for them. I found out the next day.

“You little rat!”

I half-choked on my mango juice at the mere thought that that comment was aimed at me. It was. “Excuse me?”

“You marked all over our papers!” Lee pointed a filthy finger at me. “Mr. Sankter will never take them now. There goes your precious A-plus!”

I rolled my eyes. Had he never taken an English class before? “They’re proofreading marks,” I explained. “Just re-write your paper with the adjustments I noted. Our A’s still there, but it won’t be if you two don’t start acting like the partners that we are. My corrections to your paper will get our A.”

“Corrections?” Nick repeated. “What’s wrong with this sentence here?”

“It ends with a preposition,” I replied. “That’s a grammatical no-no.”

“Why did you cross this sentence out?” Lee asked.

“It didn’t concern your subject,” I replied. “Brown-nosing isn’t acceptable; not at our age. The statement, ‘my favorite subject is Science’, has nothing to do with the elements.”

The boys said nothing, but walked away. I had, apparently, done the wrong thing again. I really wanted my A, they didn’t care, I pushed for it, and they got mad. Yes, I must have done something wrong.

“A…A…” I whispered to myself as Mr. Sankter passed out our reports at the end of class. Did I get an A? Or better yet, did Nick and Lee get As?

Mr. Sankter handed Lee his report first. His face lit up, and he scanned his paper. He looked back at me, and I smiled. I received a similar reaction from Nick.

“What did you do?” Lee asked when class let out.

I bit my tongue, trying to conceal the grin I had obtained because of my juicy secret.

“Yeah, how did we manage to get As?” Nick asked.

“You didn’t do it for us.”

“Yeah, it sounded like we wrote it!”

“Did I write that in my sleep?”

“Good idea! I’m going to sleep through our exams this year!”

“Enough!” Their talk of nonsense was driving me mad. “I tweaked your paper: made the necessary corrections; added in a bit of your personalities. But I won’t do it again!”

I walked away. I couldn’t believe I had sold out; cheated; stooped so low.

Why were those boys following me?

Nick and Lee bore guilty expressions. They stood their ground when we reached the stairs. I wish I had too.

I tripped over a hardly visible string, and landed in a puddle of chocolate pudding; a large one. I couldn’t see where I was going, but I wish I could have, for I slipped into a pile of pencil dust. So, this is how they tar and feather these days.

I looked at the boys (or guessed where they were), who seemed to be struggling to keep themselves from laughing. “I - you - OH!” I couldn’t talk without getting pencil dust in my mouth, so I stayed silent. But then I heard laughter from all sides. It was like I was on display. I tried to run, but I slipped and fell again; this time, I didn’t bother trying to get back up. I accepted my defeat. I wish The Guyz were here, I thought as I cried silently. They never would have let this happen, and even if they did, they wouldn’t have let me lay there in my cell of the zoo. CHAPTER ___

Then, I felt two hands pull me up. I half-thought, half-hoped I was hallucinating - or dreaming, even. I felt my feet practically dragging on the floor, but since I had pudding in my eyes, I didn't know where I was being dragged to.

“Sorry about that,” I heard Nick's voice say.

“Here, take this,” I heard Lee's voice say. He handed me what, by it's touch, I guessed was a paper towel.

“Sorry, my foot!” I said as I wiped enough pudding and pencil dust off of my face, as to where I could see and talk.

“No, really,” said Nick.

“Yeah, right.” I wondered if they could see a smirk through the pudding. “This was no accident. You may not want ties with 'other species', but you had no right to do this!”

“Well, you see-”

“Hush!” I said. “Just leave me alone, would you? I'm going to my dorm.”

“Good luck with that,” said Nick.

“I- what?” I looked around me; the room didn't look at all familiar. It was dusty, and there was a lot of junk laying around - but wait... where was the door?

“How did we get here?” I asked.

“Trapdoor.” The boys had this really annoying look on their faces, as though saying, “Who's the smart one, now?”

“And 'here' is where?” I asked. I couldn't remember a trapdoor on the map. But then I hadn't studied it very carefully. “It isn't on the map, is it?”

“We're in the Confiscation Room,” said Lee.

“How do you know, if it's not on the map?” I asked.

“At first we were just guessing,” said Nick. “But then we heard some girl complaining about how her CD got confiscated. Then, it turned up here.”

Lee handed me a CD case; it was some “Green's” greatest hits.

“Why was it confiscated?” I asked. “Use of vulgar?”

They looked at me like I was crazy.

“What?” I asked. "Use of vulgar is strictly forbidden!”

“Music is strictly forbidden,” was Nick's response.

“What? No!” For the first time, I disagreed with a rule.

“Yep,” said Lee. "Apparently, it disrupts the learning process. Ha! What process?”

With the help of a five-foot mirror, I cleaned the rest of myself off. “Is there a rule against vanity, too?”

“I thought you knew all the rules,” said Lee.

“Okay, so I overlooked a couple… If it’s not on the map, then how’d you find this place?”

“It was under a rug,” Nick explained.

“And you’re the only two to ever lift up a rug?” I asked.

“Heck, no,” said Lee. “There’s hundreds of rugs in this place! What idiot would turn over every single one. They’d look too suspicious!”

“So, are you an idiot, or are you going to tell me how you stumbled upon this place?” I asked.

“We knew it was here,” Nick whispered. “You see, for ages-”

“-This school hasn’t been around that long,” I pointed out. “It’s founder’s our current principal, you know.”

“Fine, Nick muttered, and continued to whisper his story. “For a while - which doesn’t sound half as school as ‘ages’, mind you - people have been wondering where the confiscated junk goes - ‘cause you know you never get it back, not usually. People have suspected the Teacher’s Lounge, but when they sent someone in-” he showed his empty hands. “-nothing.”

“You’ve only been here a week, same as me,” I reminded him. “Where’d you hear all this?”

“The gym,” he replied, in a casual tone of voice. “When I was shooting some hoops with the guys.” He lowered his voice again. “There’ve also been rumors of a secret room. No one knows how the rumors were started, for no one had ever seen the place, not as far as anyone knows. So, Lee and I set out to find the place: banging on walls to see if they’re fake; pushing random objects to see if they’d reveal a hidden passageway; stomping on floorboards to listen for something unusual.”

“Oh, I thought you were just ‘jamming’, or whatever it is those weird people call it…” I wondered if I had underestimated those boys‘ intelligence…yeah, right. “Why did you throw me into the pudding?” I had just remembered how I had come to Confiscation Room in the first place.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” said Nick.

“Yeah,” Lee agreed. “’Cause we’re past that.”

“Friends?” I said weakly.

“Yeah,” Nick replied.

“Ditto,” said Lee.

Pinch me; I’m dreaming, I thought.CHAPTER ___

It turns out, I wasn’t dreaming, after all. Or so I guessed, because my CD and Dan’s portable CD player were missing, and I found a note from “Confiscation Station”, telling me to reread the codes of conduct, and to report to detention at 4:30 pm that day. One week = one detention. What a way to start a school year! I wanted to sleep in; skip school for a day. But unfortunately, when you’re in a boarding school, you can’t just call in sick. I missed The Guyz’s forgery skills.

So, I went through all of breakfast, wondering what had become of that CD. At eight o’clock that morning, I found out.

Since Nick and Lee had shown me how to get back to my dorm from the Confiscation Room, I stumbled only slightly in finding my way to the trapdoor.

I crept down the ladder. I guessed that, at some point, some of the staff had to come down there, to drop off the confiscated junk, if nothing else. And if that was true, I didn’t want to be caught.

It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the dark (Nick and Lee weren’t there to turn the light on), but it was all worth it - or so I thought at the time - so long as I got my CD back.

I searched the room, but found nothing. Actually, I found a lot of stuff, just not my CD. And then-

“AH!” I screamed. A hand had just appeared out of no where, grabbed me, and pulled me straight through a wall. No, it can’t have been, ‘cause I got pulled through it. You can’t be pulled through a wall, if it’s real, now can you? Perhaps it was a hologram.

“Ha-ha, I told you so,” said the woman, who had pulled me through the wall-like thing. She looked about thirty.

“You’re right,” said another woman, who also looked about thirty. “That’s the kid.”

What would you call a secret room within a secret room? Not a double secret room, no. An extra-secret room? No - or maybe some people would. But me, I call it Secret Room².

The Secret Room² looked like the principal’s office at my previous school, but I would have to ask Dan to be sure; he saw it a lot more than I did.

“You are Monica Ginger, aren’t you?” asked the second woman. She was sitting behind a desk.

“Y-yes,” I answered nervously. “Yes, I am.”

The second woman laughed. “Let go of her, Shelly.” The first woman, Shelly, released me, and the second woman went on talking. “Take a seat, honey.”

“Are - are you from the Confiscation Station?” I asked as I took a seat next to the desk. “Because I’d really like my CD back. You see, I didn’t know it was against the rules, so if you could just-”

The second woman started laughing again. “Ha, ha, ha! …Confiscation Station… ha, ha, HA!”

This is the part where I felt like an idiot.

“CDs against the rules?” said Shelly. “I thought this was the smart kid! Kid, did you not read your own acceptance letter? All sorts of people and their talent have been recognized here! How could, say, a pop star, be recognized if music’s prohibited?”

“See,” said the other woman. “We don’t work on people’s talents, skills, or character until they’ve attended Cabot’s Academy for a few years.”

“But you were all so impressed by my test scores and work in class that you just had to talk to me sooner?” I guessed.

Idiot.

“Um, no, actually,” said thee woman behind the desk. “We want to talk to you about the eleventh track on your CD.”

“The eleventh track… oh.” My face fell with disappointment, for that track was the surprise track (I didn’t know it existed until I listened to the CD all the way through), and it was of Dan, singing a song he had written and dedicated to me.

“Yes, Monica, track eleven,” said Shelly. “How old is this Dan person?”

I almost asked myself how she knew his name, but then I remember how the track started out: “Hey, Girl, it’s me, Dan. N’ I made this song just for you.” The song had no instruments, but his voice was so wonderful, he needed them not. “Thirteen.”

“I told you this would be wonderful!” Shelly excitedly clapped her hands. “Kid, what’s your relation to this Dan?”

“He’s my brother,” I replied.

“And do you think he would be interested in attending Cabot’s?”

Those last two words echoed in my mind. Of course, Dan would want to be at Cabot’s… BECAUSE I’M HERE! If Dan were at Cabot’s, I’d be The Girl again. Any chance I had of friendship with Lee and Nick would be sabotaged by my overprotective brother. Right now, I might be known as a braniac, here at Cabot’s, but at least I’m not some face with no name! That’s all I’ll be if Dan comes here.

“No,” I said. “I don’t think he’d be interested in this school at all.”

“Are you sure?” Shelly sounded quite grumpy all of a sudden.

“Oh, never mind her,” said the woman behind the desk. “We just want to make sure you’re absolutely sure, because your brother has incredible talent. Why, he could make it to number-one-selling-album-in-the-country if he comes here!”

“Oh,” I said quietly. “I guess I could talk to him, and if he’s interested, he’ll send in an application.”

Of course, I did not intend to mention to Dan that this conversation had ever taken place, but I didn’t have to tell these women that.

“Hey, thanks, kid,” said Shelly, who pushed me back through the wall.

“Kid” is what she had called me. Once again, I was a face with no name.CHAPTER ___

“Where’ve you been?” Lee demanded (he had just popped out of nowhere).

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“We have to endure Kendrin’s Health class, and you don’t?” asked Lee. “What’s up with that?”

“I missed Kendrin’s Health?” I asked. “That means I missed Hukra’s PE, too!”

“I’m sure you’re so disappointed,” said Nick, who stood next to Lee.

“I - I was busy… doing something,” I said. “Really, I was!”

The boys looked at each other, and I read their glances to mean they’d start talking about me (and what they thought I had been doing) the second I was out of earshot.

“You’re lucky you didn’t miss Sankter’s class,” said Nick. “I don’t think he likes many of his students.”

“Right,” I said. “How much longer do we have until his class?”

Nick looked at his wristwatch. “Somewhere from ten to fifteen minutes.”

I was gone so fast that I didn’t hear Nick ask why. I needed to get to the Math room, so I could talk with Miss Macintosh. A detention was more than I could bear, and Miss Macintosh was strict. Weaseling out of a detention from missing her class would not be easy. I needed some sort of an excuse. I could say… too late. I was there.

I let myself into the classroom where Miss Macintosh was sorting papers.

“Be brief, Miss Ginger,” she said. “You wouldn’t want to be late for class… or miss it altogether.” She stared at me with eyes of stone.

“I’m sorry, Miss Macintosh,” I said. “I’m still getting used to the school, and I’ve had a lot of homework this past week…”

Miss Macintosh cocked an eyebrow, and I realized that I was babbling and making excuses. I inhaled deeply. “I’m read to accept responsibility for my actions.”

“Good for you, Miss Ginger,” she said. “With an attitude like that, you just might get somewhere in this world.”

“Thank you, I-

“I wasn’t finished, Miss Ginger,” Miss Macintosh cut me off. “Miss Ginger, you may be one of the most decent student I’ve taught in years, but be that as it may, you were marked absent in my class today. I’m afraid I have no choice…” She handed me a pink sheet of paper: a detention slip.

“Uh… thanks,” I said, though I wasn’t quite sure what I was thanking her for. “Like you said, I’ve got to run, or I’ll be late for class.”

Before I left, Miss Macintosh had one more thing to say: “And by the way, you homework? It was perfect.”

I hurried to Mr. Sankter’s class, where Lee and Nick had saved a seat for me.

“Where d’you keep disappearing to?” Lee asked.

Mr. Sankter slammed a stick against Lee’s desk. “Talking will not be tolerated in my class, Mr. Soupless.” Mr. Sankter addressed the rest of the class. “You’ve had enough easy days to get you started. So I think it’s time I cracked the whip on you lot.”

Someone in the back of the classroom raised his hand. “Sir-”

“I know what you are wondering,” said Mr. Sankter. “And I must say that it’s rather pathetic that you do not know the answer.”

All the class knew the question, for it was lingering on the minds of all. No one had had the courage to ask it, though. Everyone was wondering why we were in school on a Saturday.

“Duke, perhaps you’d like to enlighten your idiot classmates,” Mr. Sankter said, and the boy who had called me “garlic” stood up.

“Of course,” said the boy, Duke. “We are in school on a Saturday because we are not dweebs, worthy of nothing more than a hillbilly pre-school… well, most of us.”

This “Duke” kid had broken a rule. I was sure of it. The language rules at Cabot’s were very strict. “Dweeb”, I know, was outlawed, and “idiot”, even, which Mr. Sankter said a lot, was walking on a fine line.

“Thank you, Duke,” said Mr. Sankter. “I thin you all get the point: you are in school on Saturday so you can learn something, and become better than everyone else!

“Because everyone did unrealistically well on the P.T.E. assignment, I think you all are ready to move on to basic chemistry.”

I began to wish I hadn’t made Lee and Nick do “unrealistically well” on their reports.

“Basic chemistry?” Lee repeated.

Mr. Sankter slammed his stick on Lee’s desk again. “You did not raise your hand before you spoke, Mr. Soupless! Detention!”

“But he - that’s not - you just -” Nick sputtered.

“Ooh-hoo! Detention for two!” Mr. Sankter got way too excited about detention slips, I decided.

Lee and Nick looked at me, as though they were wishing I had detention, too. Shows what they know, huh?

Turn out, “basic chemistry” meant we got to use the science lab. (note: I didn’t use an exclamation point at the end of that sentence for a reason) However, we didn’t get to have actual chemistry experiments. After we finished memorizing all the lab rules, we had just enough time to make a tornado in a bottle. Also, he gave us homework: make a volcano (due in two days).

“That was so insane!” I found myself half-shouting after class. “How come that Duke kid can break whatever rules he wants to, and does Mr. Sankter say a word about it? Oh no. But when you talk without your hand raised, ‘that’s it! Detention!”

“He’s Mr. Sankter’s son,” said Nick.

“WHAT?” I unleashed my disbelief.

“Yeah,” said Nick. “His name’s Duke Sankter.”

“Ruddy teacher’s pet,” Lee murmured.

“How do you know?” I asked. “The gym?”

“Actually, no,” said Nick. “I heard it from that Ophelia Oadebhor girl. I thought I’d take advantage of her GQS.”

“You know that’s not a real medical condition, right?” I said.

They either didn’t hear me, already knew, or simply didn’t care, for Lee continued talking.

“I still can’t believe we got a detention for talking.”

“It’s not that hard to believe,” I said. “He told you not to talk, you talked, so you got a detention. It actually makes a bit of sense.”

“That makes sense?” said Lee.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Not really,” said Nick. “We talk, and we get detention. You skip class-”

“Actually, I-”

“Yeah, what was up with that?” Lee asked. “And where were you, anyway?”

I sighed. What would Dan tell me to do? Then, I stopped myself. I remembered that The Boss was not the boss of me and my life. Cabot’s was a new beginning for me, and I needed to make some decisions for myself. If you’re going to make a decision, the do it! But be quick about it. They’re waiting…

I decided that I couldn’t provide them with too much information. After all, I’d only known them a week. Dan might be overprotective, but about many things, he was wise. One of a million lessons I had learned from him was that not all people were good people, and that it’s difficult to know if a person is good or not if you’ve only known the person a week.

“So, where have you been disappearing to?” Nick asked.

“I guess you could say I was doing some research,” I said. “I just wasn’t doing research in the library. I still learned something, though.”

Lee and Nick rolled their eyes and exchanged looks.

“What was that for?” I demanded.

“Oh, nothing,” said Lee. “Just that, well, it’s no secret that you’re the smartest kid in our class. But even so, no one expected that you’d be too good for class and the library, and would go off and teach yourself somewhere else.”

I wanted to punch him. I really did. I think he sensed it, too, because he flinched when I brought my hand up to put a lock of hair behind my ear.

“And you didn’t even get a detention,” Nick muttered.

“FYI, I did get a detention,” I said. “okay? Does that satisfy you? Now, listen up, you might want to hear this: you guys were wrong! Your two rumors you were telling me about? They’re not both the Confiscation Room.”

“Yes!” said Lee. “I was right!”

“No, you weren’t,” I said. “Haven’t you been listening?”

“I knew you should have got a detention!” said Nick. “And you did! See, we were right.”

“Doesn’t it matter to you that the Confiscation Room isn’t the secret room you’ve heard tell of?”

“And how do you know this?” Lee asked.

If I told them the answer to that question, I’d have to tell them about Dan. I really didn’t want to talk about all that Cabot’s was offering to Dan. I just had a feeling that the three of us weren’t ready for that conversation yet. “Um, Leah - I mean, Ophelia - told me about it.”

“Right,” they mumbled.

Someday, I knew, I’d be able to tell them everything. I’d introduce them to Dan and The Guyz (duo, not trio), Mom and Dad would be so pleased that I had found friends, and Aly and Abby would be so jealous because I’d have two boys, and they’d have none (not that I liked Nick and Lee like that, but I didn’t have to tell my cousins that).

“I am so glad this week is over,” said Lee.

“Why’s that?” I asked. “We get one day off before we have to do it all over again.”

“Nuh-uh,” said Nick. “I was talking to this seventh grader, and he was saying that today’s the only Saturday we have class. He also said they’ll let us out of class on Monday to make up for it. Something about confusing the newbies…”

“Odd,” I said. “But what does it matter? We’ll just get the opportunity to sit in our dorms, and pick our noses ‘till they bleed.” I really need to stop hanging around Dan. Yuck!

“Monica, we get to go home over the weekend,” said Nick. “I’ll just be in a hotel room, though, ‘cause we go from place to place too much to have a permanent house.”

“I’m going home,” said Lee. “We live just out of the city. It’s a bit of a drive, but it’s worth it for the quiet - if you can call it that. There’s a fair few people.”

“I suppose I’d just stay here,” I said.

“Don’t you and your family get along?” Nick asked.

“Oh, sure we do,” I answered. “They’re just all the way back in Alabama.”

“So, you won’t see your folks ‘till Christmas?” said Lee.

I shook my head, but said nothing. I was feeling very homesick all of a sudden.

“Lee Sooplex, you have a call at the office,” said a voice over intercom.

“You guys wait for me outside,” said Lee. “I should only be a minute.”

I followed Nick outside, but my mind was a day ahead. Everyone’s parents would be picking their kids up. Except mine. There’d be a couple of other kids there, but they’d be social rejects, and want nothing to do with me. The meals would taste awful because the staff wouldn’t put in much work for only a couple students. The teachers would not want to put up with students when they didn’t have to, and therefore would be very unkind. Imagine what Mr. Sankter would be like! And Duke would probably stay there too. The image in my head was like one you’d see in a particularly frightening horror movie.

“-so you’re welcome to stay with us.”

I opened my eyes (physically, they were never closed, but mentally, I wasn’t paying any attention, and hardly remembered Nick helping me onto the tree, whose branch I sat on).

“Did you even hear what I just said?” Lee asked (yes, he was there now). He sighed. “I said you can spend the weekend at our place. Mom’s already said you could.” Nick raised his eyebrows at Lee, who muttered in response, “Mom demanded I be polite.”

I could have sang upon hearing this news (even though Lee had been forced to invite me, I was happy, nevertheless). I could have danced. I could have screamed. I could have went up to Lee and hugged him without caring what it would look like! I almost did, mind you. I jumped out of the tree, but instead of hugging him, I just sort of squealed, “Thank you so much!”

Lee kind of snickered, but only for a second. “You’ll have to share a room with my little sister. She’s really annoying, but you’ll survive.”

My smile was the broadest it had been in years. So, this is what true friendship feels like… I like it.

“If we’re all leaving, we should probably pack,” said Nick.

“That can’t take long,” I said. “We only have to pack two days’ worth of stuff.

“We don’t have long,” said Lee. “We’ve got detention in an hour.”

Had it been any other day, I would have groaned, but it was that day, and nothing could have brought me down. There’s probably a word for that, but I can’t put my finger on it.

So, we all went back to our dorms (actually, we all went to the boys’ first, and then decided we’d go to mine after detention).

I was very much surprised at how much time it didn’t take them to gather their stuff, because their dorm was completely cluttered and unorganized (kind of reminded me of The Guyz’s rooms).

“And that’s it,” Lee concluded as he zipped his weekend bag (he didn’t want to bother with the huge suitcase).

“Yep,” said Nick, as he, too, zipped up his weekend bag. Why didn’t I have a weekend bag? “And now it’s time for detention.”

Detention was, as expected, miserable. Well, more miserable for Lee and Nick than it was for me. All detentions were held at the same place, at the same time, and are held by the same person. The librarian.

The librarian had us write a full-length essay on why what each of us did was wrong. Mine was easy enough, for I knew why skipping class was wrong, and I still felt bad about the whole thing. Lee and Nick, however…

Thanks to them, I (and everyone else who was in detention, but I didn’t know any of them, so I completely ignored their existence) was in the library a lot longer than I wanted to. They couldn’t think of anything to write! When was I supposed to pack?

After hours of detention, the boys finally handed in their papers.

“Sorry, we took so long,” said Nick. “That was a hard essay.”

I rolled my eyes (but I was still smiling). “Are you still going to help me pack?”

“Well, I don’t have a choice,” said Lee. “You know, since she’s staying at our place.”

“Mm-hmm, like Monica, here is going to forget anything,” said Nick, and when neither I nor Lee said anything, Nick added, “I suppose I’ll just keep watch for any teachers. It’s after hours, you know.”

We waved at Nick briefly before turning toward my dorm. But it was late, so, of course the door was locked.

I knocked softly on the door.

“is that you, Monica?” whispered Nellie’s voice.

“Yes,” I whispered back. “Please let me in.”

The door opened a crack, and I pushed it open the rest of the way. All of the lights were out, and the girls, in bed.

“What’s he doing here?” Nellie squirmed uncomfortably in her robe.

“Oh, never you mind,” I whispered. “He’ll be out in a minute. He’s helping me pack, alright? Please, try to go to sleep. We really won’t be long.”

Nellie went over to her bed, and lay down in it without taking off her robe.

I took two uniforms, and stuffed them into my suitcase.

Lee snickered. “Those are the only clothes that you’ve packed?”

I smiled weakly. “Yes.”

After I finished packing my “necessities”, I asked, “Is that all?”

“You’re going to need your pillow, too,” said Lee. “Yeah, we don’t have any extras.”

I smiled very weakly, trying not to blush. “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I’ll take care of it.”

Lee looked uncomfortable, like he’d never been in the presence of someone so pathetic.

Shortly afterward, I saw Lee to the door. “I’d see you to your dorm, but…”

“I know,” he said. “I get it.”

I closed the door, and locked it. That night, I dreamt of the wonderful family that must be the Sooplexes. It was the deepest sleep I’d had all week.CHAPTER ___

An orange minivan pulled up to the curb of the entrance to the school, early the next morning.

“That’ll be my Mom,” said Lee.

“See you in two days, Nick,” I said.

“Yeah, see you,” said Nick.

“Bye,” said Lee, who led me to the minivan.

I put my suitcase in the back, and Lee and I piled ourselves in the vehicle.

“I hope you’re up for a bit of a drive, Monica,” said Mrs. Sooplex. The curls of her perm shook when she talked. “With all the traffic, we’re looking at an hour’s worth of driving.”

“That’s okay, Mrs. Sooplex,” I said. “And thanks for letting me stay with your family over the weekend.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal,” said Mrs. Sooplex. “I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to live in Alabama, and go to school in New York.”

“It’s not as hard as it seems,” I said. “I just won’t get to see my family as much.”

Other than that, we made little conversation, but I was occupied. New York City was like a huge parfait with multiple layers.

Layer 1 - the huge skyscrapers, whose walls were so shiny, you could see the reflection of the other buildings in them.

Layer 2 - the traffic of both cars and people, all so eager to get where they’re headed, that they’re willing to forget everything fro the sake of the rush.

Layer 3 - all the little details, like little flowers or trees, not so different from the granola pieces sprinkled on a parfait.

“This is it,” proclaimed Mrs. Sooplex.

My breath was taken away, partially due to the awesome view before me, but also due to the power of inertia when Mrs. Sooplex jerked the car to the left to pull into the driveway.

The Sooplexes had about an acre of freshly mowed, bright green grass in their front yard. Their house was a dark brick, and white shutters accessorized every window.

I got out of the minivan to get my suitcase.

“Don’t bother, dear,” said Mrs. Sooplex. “I’ll get your things. You and Lee, go on it.”

“Come on.” Lee showed me to the door, and then opened it.

“Ah, Lee, m’boy,” said a scruffy Mr. Sooplex, who gave Lee a bro-hug. “And, um, Lee’s friend…” His expression froze, and he just stared at me.

“Eh, my name’s Monica,” I said, trying to fill the lull. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

Mr. Sooplex blinked a couple times, and then shook his head. “Yeah,” he said before walking away.

“You’ll be rooming with Jennifer,” said Lee. “Down the hall, last door on your left. Mom’ll bring your stuff in there.”

I was a little shocked by Mr. Sooplex’s… whatever it’s called, but I was happy to have a place to stay. So, I went into the room that was down the hallway, and the last door on the left.

Inside, before I noticed the size, colors, shape, or accessories of the room, I noticed the girl in it. I never - N-E-V-E-R - never would have guessed she was related to Lee. Her hair was black with red (not orange - red) streaks, and was crimped and frizzy. She wore black eyeliner, and brown eye-shadow. Her fingernails were blood red with black tips.

“Whoa, he actually pulled it off.” Somehow, the girl seemed to be impressed by me, though I couldn’t imagine why.

“Most people usually just say ‘hello’.” I wrinkled my nose. “Or they introduce themselves. Here, I’ll show you: I’m Monica. What’s your name? I’m eleven. How old are you?”

“Jennifer. Ten.”

Wow. One word sentences. Is she not a big talker? Or do I talk too much? Has Lee told her I’m a freak? Have I freak-a-fied myself?

-Whoa, Monica, chill! Breath, chill, and relax. There! Feel better?

I took a deep breath. “So, who pulled what off?”

“My brother,” said Jennifer. “Your fuh-riend? He pulled off, well, you.”

“Huh?” Maybe I was too naïve for my own good.

“You see, we all had this bet,” Jennifer explained. “We bet that there was no way my brother could land a girl at that smarty pants’ school. Obviously, we were wrong.”

I was gaping. “That stinks!” Lee was like Eric. “I thought we were… you know… just friends. What do I do now?”

For some reason, Jennifer started laughing.

“You like him! You like him!” Jennifer sang.

“I, WHAT?”

“See? It says right here in this issue of Tween of Trend that you like my brother.”

“Let me see that.” I snatched away the magazine, and looked at the article for myself.

Think Your Sib’s Friend Wishes Things Were Friendlier?

Ever seen your sib hanging out with people of the opposite gender? Of course, your sib claims they’re “just friends”, but does your sib’s friend know that? Here’s a test to see:

[sib’s friend enters room]

YOU say, ‘You know, I never thought he/she’d pull it off.’

[wait for sib’s friend to ask what you’re talking about]

YOU say, ‘My brother/sister - your fuh-riend - he/she pulled off you. Cuz, you see, our family had this bet. We were betting that there was no way (inset sib’s name here) could land a girl/boy at that (insert adjective here) school. But obviously, we were wrong.’

If your friend’s sib believes this, your sib’s friend definitely wished things were friendlier!

“You actually believe this junk?” Suddenly, I became rather calm, and quite skeptical.

“Of course!” said Jennifer. “Tween of Trend is, like, my Bible! I live by this thing! It has never steered me wrong.”

“Sure it has,” I said. “It just did. I don’t like your brother.”

Jennifer sighed. “Well, everyone messes up every once and a while. And besides, this thing is for the average person. You don’t look average, or really give off an average vibe.”

Normally, I’d be offended by something like that, but it wasn’t a normal time. I don’t know what was so peculiar about it. So, instead, I laughed, and she laughed too. We were laughing like fools who’d known each other forever.

There was a knock at the door, and Jennifer and I discontinued our giggles abruptly.

“Can I come in girls?” I heard Mrs. Sooplex’s sweet voice from the other side of the door.

“Yes!” I answered while, at the same time, Jennifer answered, “Whatever!”

Mrs. Sooplex entered the room, carefully carrying my suitcase (whereas I, myself, probably would have dragged it, inconsiderate to the money Mom spent on it). “Here’s your things, dear,” she said. “Breakfast is ready, so come on.”

“Your Mom is so sweet!” I said after Mrs. Sooplex had left, and Jennifer looked at me like I was crazy. “Seriously, Jennifer, I know that no one likes to hear people complimenting their parents, but your Mom is really nice.”

“Firstly, can you call me Jenny instead of Jennifer?” asked Jennif - I mean Jenny. “I’ve been trying to start that up, but everyone still calls me Jennifer. And secondly, does your mom, seriously never carry your suitcase to your room for you?”

I didn’t bother to point out that this was the first time I’d had a need for a suitcase. “Not exactly… Mom and Dad are usually pretty busy because they own a restaurant. I guess I just mean that my mom hasn’t ever had a chance to be real sweet.”

“Oh,” Jenny wore a look a lot like the “I-can’t-believe-how-pathetic-she-is” look that Lee was giving me the night before.

“Don’t you go looking like your sorry for me,” I said. “I feel sorry for you. You’ve got black war paint all over you!”

“It’s called make-up,” said Jenny.

“I thought make-up is supposed to enhance beauty, not dehance it,” I said. “What’s up with the punk look?”

Jenny shrugged. “I’ve been punk since I was four. See this?” She held up a small jewelry hoop. “One of my peeps shot this baby through my nose three years back.”

I winced in disgust. “Wouldn’t that make you seven? Ugh… Jenny, the goth-look doesn’t work for you too well.”

“Nah, I like it,” said Jenny. “You could use a hair straightener, though.”

I scoffed. “Your hair’s not much better!”

We laughed all the way to the table, where Mrs. Sooplex had sausages and a variety of fruit laid out on the table. I had an apple passed to me, carefully avoiding the grapes. Lee ate about five sausages. Jenny ate sausages, an orange, and a peach.

After breakfast, we girls went back to Jenny’s room and unpacked my stuff. It shouldn’t have taken very long, but Jenny turned her music on, and we got a bit distracted. Personally, I’m glad Lee hadn’t come in while we were “unpacking” because… well, how embarrassing would that be? I rarely goof off with music and all, but I felt so free I couldn’t help myself. However, if Lee had seen me, well it just doesn’t fit the “uptight-smart-person” impression of me that I gave him.

We were in there until noon, when Mrs. Sooplex came in with a tray of sandwiches (luckily, she knocked, and we were able to turn the music down before she entered). She let us eat in Jenny’s room, so we got to turn the music back on while we ate. Jenny’s punk music was… okay. I liked my music better, though, and while we ate, Jenny actually decided to give it a chance. We played Dan’s CD and she admitted it wasn’t half-bad.

While dancing to my music, I found myself trying to remember how long it had been since I let myself go like that. It felt really good. You feel free, and it’s awesome. (But once again, I was hoping, wishing, and praying that nobody came in while I was… “getting my groove on”).

We danced the hours away, and I almost forgot I was there because I was friends with Lee not Jenny,

-My bad.

“Come on, girls,” said Mrs. Sooplex when she, once again, appeared in the doorway, telling us to eat.

I got up from Jenny’s bed where I was sitting. “It sure smells good. What are we having?”

Mrs. Sooplex shook her head. “Wash up, and get to the table. Then, you’ll see.” With that, Mrs. Sooplex walked away, leaving the door open.

Jenny sniffed the air. “Hmm… smells like roasted pig.”

I sighed. Roasted pig… Just like Bessie…

Sometime when I was between six and nine years old, I went to visit my Aunt Anna and Uncle Joe (parents of Erl, whom I’ve mentioned before). Erl was - is - anything but civilized His best friend had been a pig named Bessie (a particularly fat pig), and his playground had been Bessie’s sty. The day I had come over for dinner, Bessie met the table. Poor Erl had gone without supper, refusing to eat his dear friend.

I, however, was not too sensitive about pork, so I washed my hands and prepared to enjoy a wonderfully roasted pig with a wonderful family. Sorta.

“So…” said Mr. Sooplex as we sat down to table. “You’re the brainy-”

“Ahem!” interrupted Mrs. Sooplex.

Mr. Sooplex chuckled lightly - I think I’ll always remember the way he did that. “I mean smart. You’re the smartest one in your class?”

Something about that made me feel uncomfortable. Maybe it was that Mr. Sooplex’s tone suggested that I was some nerd. Maybe because Mrs. Sooplex seemed to look at me as thought she wished her children were as smart (Lee and Jenny seemed to notice; they turned a light pink).

I put a small bite of pork in my mouth, and felt four eyes watch my jaw’s every movement (Lee thought his food was more interesting). I swallowed, and asked, “I thought you said your house’s crowded.”

“Weaw.” Lee swallowed, emptying his full mouth, and then cleared his throat. “Well, it’s usually full. Only it’s not.”

I raised my eyebrow, but said nothing.

“He means Phillip, Chris, and Bob,” said Jenny. “Phil’d be here, but he’s either at a job interview, out with a girl, looking for a girl, or doing homework. As for Chris and Bob… they’re always either at work or on a date. Otherwise, though, everyone’s here, and the house is chaos. Well, except fro Greg and Frank, who moved out.”

I looked over at Lee, as though asking him to confirm Jenny’s words.

He seemed to get the idea, for her quickly responded with, “Yeah, that’s pretty much what I meant.”

I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes, and finished eating my pork, continuously reminded of Erlando. Then, an hour into dinner, the door opened, and three boys - no, well they were older than boys, but not quite men - walked through the front door. These… guys, unlike Jenny, looked very much like they were related to Lee. Was it their hair? Their eyes? The shape of their face? Who knows. But they were Sooplexes to boot.

“We’re ho-ome!” they called through the house.

Lee and his family rose from the table, going to greet the three… guys. Because I was already finished eating, I, too, rose, from my seat, in case on of the… guys wanted to sit down.

“Where’ve you been?” Mrs. Sooplex demanded of the three.

“Triple-date!” one of them replied.

Mrs. Sooplex let out an exasperated sigh. “I still think you could’ve told me you would be late for dinner. Speaking of which, there’s still some left on the table…”

I felt so invisible! Though, I recall, I didn’t exactly mind it. I was merely absorbing everything.

“Nah, Ma, we already ate,” said another one of the guys.

“Seriously, where do think we were with those fine ladies?” the first one asked.

I found it interesting that one of them remained silent.

“Speaking of ladies…” said the second guy when he first caught sight of me.

The first one whistled loudly, and Lee’s expression fell blank.”

The silent one made his way over to me. “You’ll have to excuse my brothers,” he said. With a closer view, I noticed that he looked the youngest of the three. “I’m Phil, by the way.”

“Monica,” I said.

“Those two goons over there are Bob and Chris,” said Phil. “You’re from Cabot’s School for the Talented and Bright, aren’t you?”

“Yes, actually,” I replied. “But how did you know?”

“Clever ones have always seemed, to me, to have a different air about them than most,” said Phil. “It’s in their voice, they words they use, the way they carry themselves. One can just tell.”

“You sound rather… intellectual, yourself,” I said.

“High Honor Roll,” said Phil. “Annually. I don’t mean to brag, but it is quite an achievement.”

“Oh, Phil, not going on about that again, are you?” Lee asked. Then, he turned to me. “He’ll talk about his ‘rather large achievements’ to anyone who listens.”

I said nothing. I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t even sure what to THINK anymore! I liked Lee’s family. They were nice…ish. Some more than others. Mrs. Sooplex was nice. Mr. Sooplex was strange. Bob and Chris were very outgoing… somewhat like The Guyz, but more so. Phillip reminded me of… well, me, but somehow I find myself able to talk to myself, just not to him.

Because he’s related to Lee?

As far as that went, I couldn’t decide which I liked better as a friend, him or Jenny? I could talk to Jenny, but we’re both girls, and Lee’s not. That’s probably why.

Then again, I wasn’t willing to choose one over another. I couldn’t explain it. Some things just are.

The phone rang.

Chris held up his hand fro everyone to stop moving toward the phone. “It’s for me.” He answered the phone. “You’re talkin’ to him. Hey, ‘sup, baby? Oh? I left my wristwatch at the restaurant?” He winked at all of us. He was like The Guyz.

He started talking again. “How ‘bout I drop by your place sometime tomorrow and pick it up? Cool. See you later, baby doll!”

Lee snickered when he heard, “baby doll”, but Chris didn’t seem to mind.

Then, it hit me like a hockey puck on the head of a stupefied goalie after a powerful shot from the rival team. I hadn’t called Dan to tell him I was staying at Lee’s for the weekend. I hadn’t asked Mom and Dad’s permission either.

“I-” I began to ask to use the phone, but Jenny cut me off.

“Mom, Dad, can me and Monica be excused? Future Star’s about to come on.”

“Oh?” I said. “What’s that about?”

Lee looked at me like I was crazy fro even asking such a question, to which I mouthed, “Just being polite” (at an angle which Jenny couldn’t see my lips moving).

“Future Star takes kids or teens with talent and they compete fro stardom, which only one of them will win per season. Nick Porker was on there once, you know. How else do you suppose he got so famous?”

“He won?” I asked.

“Of course not,” said Lee (I was kind of surprised he had joined in on the conversation). “But he was talented. A basketball coach happened to be watching the show, and though he didn’t win, the coach was so impressed, he considered Nick for his team.”

Then, the phone rang again, and Lee answered it.

“Hello? Well, speak of the devil! It’s Nick. What up?”

“Nick?” Jenny repeated. “Nick Porker? Lee said he was going to you guys’ school… oh my gosh, forget Future Star!” She dropped her voice so Lee couldn’t hear. “Girl, you have got to try to hook me up with him!”

“Uh…” At that moment, the conversation became too awkward for me. I got up, not only because it was awkward, but I also remembered something. I hadn’t called my parents yet.

But could I?

If I call Mom and Dad, they’ll wonder what’s wrong. Where I’m calling from.

- Where had Nick called from anyway? His hotel room? Or did he stay at Cabot’s? That thought made me feel guilty for staying at the Sooplexes’ -

If I call my parents, Dan’ll want to talk, too… it might be a bit strange talking to him from… Lee’s house. Dan could develop theories from that setting that I don’t even want to think about! …Unless I’m staying at Jenny’s house… And really, it makes no difference if I call it Lee’s or Jenny’s ‘cause really it didn’t belong to either of them.

Always interrupting my thoughts, Lee entered the hallway where I was pondering. “What’re you doing?”

Wait! Make up your mind! Do you or don’t you want to call your parents? It didn’t matter, though. Lee stopped me from saying anything.

“Can you believe Nick chose to stay at school? I mean, he could’ve stayed at a five-star hotel! Why d’you think he’d do that?”

I shrugged. I knew that I wouldn’t stay at school if I had the choice of staying at a five-star hotel.

“Basketball.” Lee nodded, though I’m not sure what he was nodding at. He may not have even known. Maybe it was just one of those times when you nod because it seems fitting, but you’re not really nodding for a specific reason.

“Apparently, the basketball team had tryouts today.”

“I must have missed the flyer.” Indeed, I had missed the flyer. After all, why would I have taken interest in the boys’ basketball team? Not that I wasn’t good at it. I would’ve been pretty good on the girls’ team, but I saw no flyer for that either. “Did he make the team?”

Lee almost laughed. “Are you serious? You don’t get results back that fast. Surely a brainiac like you would know that.”

On the contrary, I didn’t know. I had never done anything like that before, save for a talent contest Dan and I had entered (we did a duet), but al we had to do was put our names on the sign-up sheet.

“Of course, it’s really a sure thing,” said Lee. “I mean, if Nick Porker’s not good enough for Cabot’s team, then none of the students are.”

“Oh.”

“And he says to tell you that you can’t stay at my house every weekend.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but had no response.

Again, Lee almost laughed. I guess I looked funny, standing there with my mouth open. “He doesn’t want us to miss any of his games.”

Only one word accurately described both of them: overconfident.

“Anyway, that’s what Nick was calling about,” said Lee. “Did Jennifer get you all settled in?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, resisting the temptation to correct him: it’s Jenny not Jennifer.

“Mom wants you inside fro dessert.”

I nodded. Lee wasn’t looking at me or Chris. I think Chris and Bob, both, were trying to embarrass Lee for having a girl friend that wasn’t a girlfriend. Apparently, it was working too.

I, myself, can admit I was also a bit embarrassed, but I was used to it. Remember, the Dan’s-name-on-napkin incident a couple years back? Oh yeah, I was used to all this.

Lee and I walked inside, and our nostril were awakened by a warm, sweet aroma. We soon found the source of the smell when Mrs. Sooplex brought in a chocolate cake.

Mom never had time to bake cakes at home, not with the restaurant and all. The restaurant didn’t serve much dessert, and I rarely are there anyway.

“Would you like a piece, dear?” Mrs. Sooplex asked, and I realized her question was directed at me.

“Um, yes, please,” I said, remembering my manners.

Before I actually ate my cake, I studied it. It had a chocolate mousse-like frosting, and a layer of cream in the center.

“Don’t be shy, dear. Eat up,” said Mrs. Sooplex.

I wondered if I was the only one to notice that when you ear at someone else’s house, everyone just sits there and watches you eat.

But even so, I are my cake. “Mrs. Sooplex, what did you put in this cake other than… you know flour, sugar…what else? I mean, this is delicious!”

Mrs. Sooplex smiled. “Just a touch of love, dear.”

The other Sooplexes rolled their eyes, but I liked the saying. Maybe ‘cause it’d been so long since I’d heard it.

If I had said that to Aunt Anna, Erl probably would have cut in, saying, “Yeah, I think some cow spit migtha dripped in.”

If I had said to Uncle Samuel (his wife, Rose, died… I don’t know how many years ago), he probably would just shrug, and say, “Nothing that I can think of.”

If I had said that to Aunt Julie, she’d stick her nose up in the air and say, “Poor girl, what garbage is my sister feeding you?”

I smiled and ate the rest of my cake, almost feeling guilty because I envied Lee’s family and how close-but-not-close they were.

When everyone was finished with their piece of cake (or pieces in some people’s cases), Mrs. Sooplex began clearing the table.

“Oh, let me help you with that,” I said, remembering that when in someone else’s house (and as far as Dan was concerned, only when in someone else’s house), manners matter.

“No,” said Mrs. Sooplex. “Thank you for offering, but you are our guest, and it’s simply not proper to have the guest do housework!”

“Oh yeah, and we’re so proper,” Mr. Sooplex murmured.

Mrs. Sooplex gasped. “That is no excuse! We have every reason to be decent hosts.”

“Oh, no, it’s quite alright,” I said. In someone else’s house, if you create a dispute, you settle it. “I just wanted to be polite, is all.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” said Mrs. Sooplex. “You and I have different views of what is polite, Miss Ginger. In my view, it is polite for the guest to allow herself to be spoiled.”

“okay,” I said. After all, I wasn’t going to complain; I didn’t really want to help clear the table anyway.

When Mrs. Sooplex had finished clearing the table, she said, “You seem like a very nice young girl, Monica. To be frank, it’s nice to see someone around her, besides me, that wouldn’t mind pitching in a bit. Why, if someone were to meet one of my boys, but never learn a thing about them, they’d probably swear they were raised in a sty! But then, you don’t know much about Lee, having only known him a week… what you must have thought of him at first glance!”

I looked at Lee, whose face wore an expression that half seemed curious about my first impression oh him, half warning me that if I said I’d thought he were raised in a sty, I’d be dead.

But the truth was, my first impression of him was that he appeared to be a younger version of Eric. Of course, I couldn’t explain this to the Sooplexes, not without talking about L.S.P.P. And I couldn’t do that, no. That topic was top secret, and not to be mentioned under any circumstance.

So, I merely shrugged, and then I stood up. Only then did I realize just how bloated I was. Mrs. Sooplex was an excellent cook, but she served in double portions. I hadn’t eaten that much in such a long time, that though it was only eight o’clock, I was absolutely ready to sleep.

I yawned and, though they thought it strange that I was tired, bade them all good night.

Mrs. Sooplex conducted me to Jenny’s room. “Do you think you’ll be comfortable? Oh, goodness me! Where’s your sleeping bag?”

“Oh, I forgot to bring it,” I said. “But don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“Oh no, you won’t!” Mrs. Sooplex said. “Remember now what I said earlier about my view of being polite? Yes. Now, let me get an afghan to keep you warm… too bad we’ve got no extra mattresses for you, but well… we just have guests so rarely!”

“No, Mrs. Sooplex,” I said. “It’s really alright. You see, I go tent-camping a bit, so I’m used to sleeping on the ground.”

“Oh…well… I suppose it’s alright, then,” she said. “Not like I have a choice, but to make you sleep on the floor… I’ll get you that afghan.” With that, she left.

Moments later, she returned with a black and white afghan, which, judging by the uncommon pattern, I guessed that she had made it herself.

Although I was sleeping on the floor, which the carpet just barely cushioned, and I went to bed at eight o’clock, and that voice in my head was bothering me about not calling my parents yes, I slept considerably well, and awoke at six o’clock the next morning. To me, six o’clock was neither early nor late, but just on time. The Sooplexes however…? Not so much.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” said Mr. Sooplex as I walked down the hallway in my bathrobe (I became instantly aware of how terrible my hair probably looked). “Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise… well, you seem to have nailed the ‘early to be’ part, but the ‘early to rise’ could use some work.”

“Uh… right.” I smiled very, very weakly - almost sarcastically, but I tried to make my annoyance imperceptible. “Where is everyone, anyway?”

“Already up and at ‘em,” said Mr. Sooplex as he turned a page of his newspaper. “Jenny’s gone to the mall with some of her friends, and the boys are… actually, I haven’t a clue where they are.”

I sighed, and stood there fro a moment. Mr. Sooplex didn’t offer me breakfast (I doubt he meant to be rude, I think me presence just seemed to draw his mind blank) so I headed toward Jenny’s room to get dressed. For a minute, I stood beside the window, and stared out at the view of the side yard. The grass was green as the monster inside me, as I watched Lee and his brothers playing kickball.

I close the blinds and got dressed. Then, I peered through the blind again. The boys were still playing kickball, and though Dan had taught me how to play (and I was rather good, mid you), I simply watched, admiring their okay skill, their good sportsmanship, and how they basically loved being around each other.

Lee was up. Phil was pitching to him. Chris was on second base, and Bob was standing back, waiting to catch the ball and score his team a point.

Phil rolled the ball, carefully, but powerfully, as though in a bowling tournament.

Lee stared the ball down as it neared him. He kicked it with the toe of his tennis shoe, and the ball flew straight to Phil, who caught it. Now I knew why Lee stuck with checkers: no hand-eye coordination involved.

Chris rolled his eyes and call out something as he walked over to home play, which was marked with an empty, two-liter bottle. He had probably said, “Ghost man on second.”

Phil rolled the ball with the same technique as before, but this time, faster and harder.

Chris kicked the ball, hard. It flew over Phil’s head, and landed some six yards away from Bob. Chris had to slide to get to 1st base before Bob. It was a smart move, but I couldn’t help but feel sympathy for Mrs. Sooplex, who probably did Chris’s laundry.

Because Chris made it to 1st base, the “ghost man” move to third base.

Lee stepped up to home plate. He looked at Chris, who seemed to be kicking the air in front of him to his side (I assumed he was telling Lee that he didn’t want the ball to roll straight to Phil again). Lee nodded and awaited the ball’s arrival.

Phil rolled the ball slowly again.

Lee kicked with great force to the left. Unfortunately, in most sports (including kickball) this will usually earn you a foul. He did this three times.

Bob and Phil moved in to Home, and Chris and Lee moved into the outfield. It was the end of an inning.

“Watching the game, are you?” asked Mrs. Sooplex from the doorway.

“Ah!” I felt like someone had just put an ice cube on the back of my neck. “I… didn’t know you were standing there.” I made my best attempt at a smile, but it turned out looking more like the face of an angry rat.

Mrs. Sooplex smiled back (and her smile actually looked human, unlike mine). “Would you like some breakfast, dear?”

“What? I thought you already ate,” I said.

“Oh, no,” Mrs. Sooplex replied. “We Sooplexes are early risers, but not early eaters.”

“Oh,” I said. “I think I would like some breakfast. Thanks. Oh, but first I should call my parents and let them know I’m here.” I carefully concealed my evil-genius grin. I knew that my parents would both be at work, and Dan would not be at my house. He had no reason to be. I would hang up before the answering machine would kick on, and because we had no Caller ID, my parents couldn’t deny that I called, if I told them they weren’t home when I called.

“Sure, dear,” said Mrs. Sooplex. “I’ll show you to the phone, and you can talk while I make breakfast.”

“Thank you.” I said, as Mrs. Sooplex led me to the phone, which unfortunately was not a cordless. That meant I couldn’t call, and then hang up just before the answering machine. I hadn’t planned on this.

Unsure of what I was going to do, I picked up the phone, dialed a one, our area code, and then our phone number, silently begging that no one would pick up.

“Hello,” said Dad’s voice on the other line.

Dang it. What now? Should I hang up? Or should I stay quiet in hope that he’ll hang up? Wait, he’s saying something…

“You have reached Robert…”

“And Janet Granger,” Mom chimed in.

“If you’re calling for Monica, she’s in New York until Christmas,” said Dad, and I felt a twinge of guilt at the note of loneliness in his voice. “Whoever you’re calling for, they’re obviously not home right now, so please leave a message, and we’ll try to call you back.” Beep!

How lucky I was to get the answering machine! But still, what to say…?

Eventually, I decided to not say anything until the answering machine kicked off. I ended up spending two or three minutes in silence, waiting. Mrs. Sooplex gave me a funny look after a while, and I had to mouth, “still ringing” to keep her from getting suspicious. Finally, when the answering machine beeped again, I began my “conversation” with Dad.

“Hi, Daddy, how’s it going?” I asked the empty phone. “It’s me, Monica. Oh, I’m doing just great. Actually, I’m calling from my new friend’s house. I know! I can hardly believe it myself! But see? I told you this school would be good for me -” Beep!

Oops… I hung up immediately, for I knew what that “beep” meant. It meant that the answering machine was still running, and everything from the first “beep” to the last “beep” was now stretched over two messages.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Mrs. Sooplex asked. “You ended your call most abruptly.”

“Oh - I - we were disconnected,” I replied, and eager to change the subject, I asked, “What is there for breakfast?”

Mr. Sooplex did that little chuckle again. Until now, I had forgotten he was there. “What d’you think this is, a breakfast buffet? ‘What is there for breakfast?’” He chuckled again.

Mrs. Sooplex gave a small cough, clearly indicating disapproval of Mr. Sooplex’s mocking. “I’m making pancakes.”

“Alright! Pancakes!” exclaimed Bob’s voice, which was shortly followed by Bob, himself, who was followed by the other Sooplex boys. Chris gave a whoop before starting a chant of, “Pancakes! Pancakes! Pancakes!”

We ate our breakfast, and then Mrs. Sooplex drove Lee and me back to Cabot’s.CHAPTER ___

“What do you mean, you didn’t make the team?” Lee asked. “Do you know what I’m going to do to that coach!?” His fists were clenched, and his eyes filled with rage. I knew this look; I had seen in on Dan many times. Lee didn’t plan on hurting the coach, but he really wanted to. Dan taught me how to tell. People who plan on inflicting damage on someone aren’t going to tell anyone; they’re going to act on impulse. People who just want to inflict damage on someone are going to tell the world. They’re going t vent, or start handing out empty threats.

“I mean, who wouldn’t want Nick Porker on their basketball team?”

“Apparently, Cabot’s,” Nick replied.

“But why…?”

“Well, it’s obvious,” I said. Both boys looked at me like I wasn’t being as supportive as I should have. Then, I remembered: Nick wasn’t just Nick, like I was just Monica. He was Nick Porker, star of youth NBA. He wasn’t used to this kind of rejection. I decided to state my opinion… more gently than I had originally planned. “What I mean is, this is Cabot’s School for the Talented and Bright. Many famous people were discovered here.” I felt like I was quoting a brochure, and Lee and Nick simply weren’t getting my point. I sighed. “They probably want fresh talent.”

Clearly, this was the wrong thing to say to a semi-professional athlete.

“Fresh talent!?” Nick repeated with rage. “Why does it matter to them how fresh the talent is, so long as it’s talent!? Talent is talent! So, why didn’t I get put on the team? Don’t these people care about winning?”

I looked over my shoulder. Students who were currently, or already had arrived, were beginning to stare. Luckily, they looked away as soon as they noticed I noticed.

“And if they didn’t want me here for my basket ball skills, then why would I be here?”

I couldn’t say it. I wouldn’t way it. Though I knew the answer probably had something to with publicity, I refused to say it.

“Nick’s got a point,” said Lee. “This is a school for talented people. How are they supposed to nurture their talent if they won’t even put him on the team?”

I found myself seeing Lee as a lawyer. If he learned to pay more attention in classes, maybe, one day, he would be.

“Well…” I knew the boys weren’t going to drop the subject until they received a satisfactory answer. And I was the only one who could give them one (the coach, chances are, would not have wanted to be specific). “Someone told me that, for the first few years here at Cabot’s, they won’t really do anything for your talent. My guess is that you, Nick, have pretty much told them you’re talented. Maybe they want to find out on their own.”

This wasn’t what Nick wanted to hear, and I was aware of it. However, I longed for the conversation to be over, and ended it by saying, “A perfect opportunity to show them you’re talented in class. Every virtue or skill necessary to pursue a dream with your talent. Perseverance; dedication: Could you have your talent without them?” Now I really felt like an advertisement. “To be more specific, Nick, to play basketball, you’ve got to use both strategy and awareness - not to mention physical capabilities. Lee, playing checkers requires patience, logic. You’ve got to know your opponent’s move before they make it. Don’t you see? If you use these tactics in class, teachers are going to realize your abilities.”

The boys turned up their noses at the idea of ‘giving their all’ in classes, but over the next few weeks (we all stayed at Lee’s house over the weekend), I swore I saw improvement… or rather, they began to show a bit of effort. Slowly, gradually, their grades were raised. I suggested we celebrate, but they didn’t find the rising of one GPA point worth praised, so we let the event slip past, unnoticed.

Halloween crept up so stealthily, I was overcome by shock when I was told it was only a week away.

“Woo-hoo,” said Nick lamely. “It’s just Halloween. Who celebrates that anyway?”

I sank a bit in my seat in the cafeteria. I felt like I was at my old elementary school again, at the Rejects’ table.

“Lots of people,” said Lee. “Well, lots of little kids anyway. You know, trick-or-treating and such… little kid stuff.”

I sank even lower in my seat. Just the year before, I had been one of those ‘little kids’. Dan and The Guyz had taken me trick-or-treating. I was a queen, and Dan, Chad, and Brad had all been throne bearers. I wasn’t all that thrilled about my throne resting on three boys’ shoulders, but the neighborhood though it was kind of cool, so I lived.

“Monica, what are you doing?” Nick asked.

I had no excuse for being eye-level with the table. “Nothing,” I said, and then changed the subject. “Did you know that Halloween really has nothing to do with the devil? I mean, loads of people won’t celebrate it because they think it’s the devil’s birthday or something, but really, it’s All Hallows Eve, the day before - Eve - All Saints Day. Hallows means ‘Holy’ such as Saints.” The boys gave me ‘why-do-you-think-we-wanted-to-know-that?’ looks, to which I responded, “Thought you might want to know.”

“Speaking of things that people might want to know…” said a voice behind my shoulder. The voice belonged to a thin man in a pinstriped suit. His chin was pointed, and his cheekbones stuck out, giving his hazel eyes the appearance that they were being sucked into their sockets.

I gasped, and then tried to force words out of my mouth. “I - I - I-” I tried to bring oxygen to my lungs, enough to say a couple more words, but I found none.

“Could I have your attention, please?” he said loudly.

Silence fell, but no one reacted as I did. I was disappointed that my fellow classmates couldn’t recognize their founder. Those that weren’t in my class, I suppose, had the excuse that they had seen him the previous year.

Cabot cleared his throat. “Ah, thank you. Guess what time it is?”

“Lunch time?” Lee said.

Cabot looked at Lee. “Guess silently. Yes, thank you. Now, as I was saying, it is Halloween. And you all know what that means, don’t you?”

I saw people a few years older than me nod with excited looks.

Cabot nodded. “Mm-hmm. Yes. It’s time for the first dance of the year!”

I could just hear Dan explaining why my elementary school didn’t have dances: “Because you’re emotionally immature.” Well, ha. In your face, Dan. I’m going to a dance. I’m emotionally mature.

“Awesome!” Leah shouted.

“Ah.” Cabot pointed at Leah. “Which brings me to another point: you must be at least thirteen to attend the dance. Sorry.”

“And what exactly are we people younger than thirteen supposed to do while everyone else is out having a good time?” Nellie asked.

“Well, you all can touch up on the talents you’re supposed to have,” Cabot replied.

“Excuse me?” said Duke’s cold, sludgy voice. “I wonder, what would happen if, say, an eleven-year-old was asked to the dance by a thirteen-year-old? Would you expect the eleven-year-old to say no?”

“That’s the only exception,” said Cabot. “Now, I’ll leave you to finish your meal.”

Cabot left.

Lee waved a hand in front of my face. “Hello? Are you through being awestruck? Who does that guy think he is, anyway?”

“That was William Cabot,” I explained. “I’d know his face anywhere! He is the founder of Cabot’s School for the Talented and Bright. I can’t believe you didn’t know that.”

“What on earth?” said Nick. He was looking in the direction of a girl, older than the three of us, who was talking to Duke. She was thing, and had very light brown, thin hair. Another girl, not too far away, was watching Duke. This girl was chubby and blonde.

“What do you s’pose is going on?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” I said. “The blonde girl is in our grade, and so is Duke. The brunette’s old enough to go to the dance and is asking Duke to go with her. The blonde girl isn’t sure what to think about this.” I shocked myself at how much of the “signs” for these things I remembered… I missed Dan.

The boys looked at me incomprehensibly. “What’re you talking about?” Nick asked.

“Me?” I said. “What’re you…?” I peered harder in that direction. There was a flyer just behind Duke’s head. All I could make out of it was a huge ‘13’.

“Oh, that,” I said. “Forget what I just said, then. I don’t know what that is. A flyer for the dance?”

The boys shrugged. We finished out lunch and then headed for the flyer.

For those of you who are

13

I hope you’ve touched up

your talents throughout

the past two years.

For, behold!

Your test is at hand!

The boys rolled their eyes.

“Behold, your test is at hand…” I muttered. “I wonder what that means.”

“Who cares?” said Lee, who then pointed at the word ‘your test’. “It’s a test.”

“Of talent,” I clarified, pointing at the word, ‘talent’.

“Cool,” said Nick. “Finally, a test I can ace!”

“You sound awful confident, hot shot,” I said.

Nick raised an eyebrow at me. “Monica, I’m Nick Porker. I have talent. I don’t need some multiple choice test to tell me that.”

For the next two weeks, the eleven- and twelve-year-olds were relatively secluded from the rest of the school. Except Duke. He was part of the crowd we were avoiding. The crowd itself was organized into a few groups. One group (that was by far the largest) was or girls, discussing wardrobe ideas and dates for the dance. A slightly smaller group was the couples’ group. We avoided these two groups like the plague. A very small group included several guys planning some prank for the dance. I found myself wondering which of these groups would include Dan at his current school…

“This is so lame,” said Lee, gesturing to the crowd we were trying to avoid.

“Not so much lame as sickening,” I said.

Nick snarled his nose. “Too bad we can’t make them go away.”

“perhaps,” I said. “But we can. We can go away. I’m sure this school has a lot to offer if we give it half a chance.”

“What’re you talking about?” Nick asked. “We’ve given it months of chances!”

“And besides,” said Lee. “If we stay in school, we can’t get away from-” he gestured to the crowd, “- the school.”

“You two are so naïve,” I said. It felt weird for me, who had been called naive for years, to finally use the word on someone else. “What is the most interesting aspect of a person or place? It’s secrets. It’s hidden places. Those things are often not seen fully by the people around them, however close those people might get.”

The boys looked at each other, and then back at me.

“I suspect that if we learn to thing of Cabot’s more like a home away from home, and less like a boarding school, we’ll find ourselves more prone to enjoy ourselves.”

The boys merely shrugged, expressions bare.

“For example,” I said, growing exasperated from their stubbornness. “I’ve been wanting to check out the library. We’ve been here for months and, save for detention, I’ve not hardly been there at all. Nick, if the basketball team doesn’t have practice scheduled for today, you could check out the gym. Work on your free-throws? And Lee, I wonder if there’s any amateur checker-players you could practice on…”

“Fine,” said Nick. “We’ll come. But only because, if we don’t, you’ll be nagging us again and again and again and again-”

“Fabulous,” I said. “Where to first?”

Library, I guess,” Lee sighed.

The three of us walked to the library, me being the only one looking anxious and enthusiastic.

I headed immediately for the non-fiction section, for not only was it far vaster in inventory, but as Dan pointed out more than once, the truth is often more shocking than fiction. However, I lost the boys before I’d even scanned the first shelf. I looked over my shoulder to find them rummaging through the shelf of newly-released fiction books. I sighed and skimmed the titles on the bindings of the books at my eye-level. Within the first minute, I’d grabbed three: one that looked interesting, one by a well-known author, and one that was thick and leather-bound.

I made my way to the librarian’s desk, but before reaching it, noticed something. A computer.

“Nick! Lee!” I hissed, but because they were so far away, they didn’t hear me. I waved my arms over my head, but they didn’t see me. Eventually, I walked over to them and dragged them to the computer.

“Wow!” said Lee. “A computer! You know they’re really rare in New York City…”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be sarcastic to that which will help you.”

“And how are you going to help me?” Lee asked.

“Besides saving you from failing this grade?” I asked. “But I wasn’t talking about me. I meant the computer.” I sat down in the chair and logged on to the internet. Easily, I located a site of online games, and amongst the online games was one of the most common: checkers.

“You’re welcome,” I said as I stood up, allowing Lee to sit down. “Happy training. Come on, Nick, I’m going to check out these books, then we’ll head for the gym, okay?” I stepped quickly, but softly to the librarian’s desk. I got myself a library card, and check out my books.

Leaving Lee in the library, Nick and I went into the gym. Like most, there was a basketball court.

“You got a ball?” I asked.

Nick grabbed a ball from a black bag on the floor, and dribbled it a couple times. He then shot a basket without the ball touching the net. “You can read on those bleachers over there.”

I scoffed, then snuck up behind him and stole the ball. When I shot it, it rolled around the rim a bit, but it did go in.

“Whoa!” he said. “What was that?”

“Haven’t you ever heard of the WNBA?”

“You play then?”

“Heck, no,” I said. “But you should never underestimate a girl.”

He half-smiled, half-smirked. “Can I…?”

“Yeah,” I said, holding up my books. “I’m gone. Actually, I think I’ll take these to my dormitory.”

And so I did. I crawled into bed and began reading the leather-bound book (the only one I took out that turned out to be fiction).

It was about a girl who was an only child, and lived a practically normal life. Until she became a teenager. Then, the secrets of her life unraveled: her biological dad; her step-dad, the girl’s true identity.

I found the book so fascinating, I could hardly tear my eyes away from it; all three of the books provided the same captivating sensation. However, they were so long, I had to renew them and check them out over and over again. The day after I finished them…

“So, you both coming over for Christmas?” Lee asked.

“What!?” I exclaimed. “Christmas already!?”

“How is it you can give us the time left, to the minute, ‘till our next test, but you can’t keep track of one of the biggest holidays of the year?” Nick asked.

“So, you guys coming, or what?” Lee asked.

“You know I’m there,” said Nick.

“And Monica, you’ll be coming, of course.”

“No, actually, I won’t,” I said.

“Why not?” Lee actually looked surprised. “The Christmas dance is only for people thirteen and over, you know.”

“Lee, I haven’t seen my parents in four months,” I said. “They’ll be furious if I don’t use these two weeks to visit them.”

“Yeah, I guess I forgot,” said Lee. “Enjoy your flight to Alabama.”

“I’m not leaving yet, Lee,” I reminded him. “I’ve got, what, a week?”

“Three days, “Lee corrected.

“Three days?” I repeated. “Three days! That means our tests are in-”

“Two days,” Nick finished. “We though you knew. We though you’d been studying all this time; you’d been reading so much…”

“I read,” I said. “It’s what I do.”

For the next two days, I studied, hard. I spoke to no one; focused 100% on my studies. Lee and Nick accompanied me half he time, the other half, just me and my text books, as it used to be. The memory embedding in my déjà vu seemed so far away. Had it really been no more than a year?

“Hey, Mom,” Lee said into the payphone outside the school. “Yeah, I did. Mostly upper 90s. Nah, she’s got folks in Alabama. I know! I forgot too… Nick’ll be there, though. Oh, yeah,” Lee glanced over his shoulder where I was hovering. “Monica would like to know if, where you’re taking me and Nick back to the house, you could drop her off at the airport. You can? Great. Now Monica can stop breathing down my back about it.”

I took the hint, and stepped back a few paces. While Lee finished his conversation, I considered my possibilities. The first was obvious: to call my mother, and have her meet me at the airport. The second was sneakier. And I liked it.

“Bye, Mom,” Lee said as he hung up the payphone. “I guess you’ll want to call your folks now?” He was talking to me.

“No,” I said, suppressing an evil grin. “They’ll… they’ll be waiting for me.”

“How long will we be waiting for your mom, Lee?” Nick asked.

“She said a couple of hours,” Lee replied. “She wants to clean house a bit. And she wants to give us time to pack, I suppose.”

“Pack,” I muttered. Then, I said that word again and again in my head. For months, I had hardly had to pack anything, save for clean clothes. Now I had to pack everything I had brought to Cabot’s… I nearly laughed at the thought, for even with all that I brought, I had about half the amount of stuff that Lee and Nick had brought, and therefore, was finished pack in half the time.

I used my extra time t return my library books. Lee and Nick met me there.

“Come on, Monica, my Mom should be here soon.” Lee beckoned me to leave, then ushered me out of the school, where the orange minivan was waiting for us.

“First stop, New York Airport,” said Mrs. Sooplex. “It’s going to be very crowded, so I’ll walk you in, and make sure you get on the right flight.”

“Oh, no,” I replied. “That really isn’t necessary.”

“Hmm…” For a moment, I thought she was considering it, but, “Perhaps it isn’t. But until you get on that plane, you are, so to speak, my responsibility. Now, I wouldn’t have one of my own children wandering about unaccompanied in an airport. It’s bad enough that you’ll be flying several states all by yourself; I will definitely be walking you in.”

“okay,” I said. There was no saying no to that woman.

When we arrived at the airport, I realized just how right Mrs. Sooplex was; the place was packed! Not before driving around the parking lot a couple times did we actually enter the building. Then, we had to wait in line and get my ticket.

“The next flight is in twenty minutes,” said the flight attendant.

“Get he a ticket for that, then,” Mrs. Sooplex requested.

“Two tickets? okay-”

“No!” I quickly interrupted the man. “It’s just one. Just me. You see, I-”

“okay, one ticket then…”

Mrs. Sooplex reached into her purse. She was about to pay!

“Look, I’ve got the money here,” I explained. “My mother gave it to me at the end of last summer, right before school started. Here you are, sir.” I handed the man the money before Mrs. Sooplex could object.

“Very well,” the man said, his face blank with boredom.

Mrs. Sooplex and I gave my luggage to an attendant.

“Your mother will be waiting for you at the other airport,” said Mrs. Sooplex.

“What? Oh, yes, of course. Right.”

Actually, my mother wouldn’t be waiting for me at the end. I knew this; it was part of my plan.

Mrs. Sooplex sighed. “Now, just get on the plane, and enjoy your trip home.”

I smiled, again envying Lee that he had a mother who was always there for him. “okay. Bye, Mrs. Sooplex!” I called as I waved and retreated slowly toward the plane.

“See you in two weeks!”

“Have a merry Christmas, Mrs. Sooplex!”

“You too, dear.” That was the last I heard of the woman for two weeks.

I searched the plane for a good seat, and found one by the window. I was terrified of heights, but I figured that, after we took off, the view would be nice.

I twiddled my thumbs for a few minutes. Great. The plane hasn’t even taken off, and already, I’m bored. I sighed and buckled my seatbelt. In only twenty minutes, we would be taking off.

And so we did. I found the motion of the plane soaring through the air was soothing, and the next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes. We had landed.

I took a short breath, unbuckled, and then stood up. I found my way to the exit, where Mrs. Sooplex presumed my mother would be waiting. But, of course, my mother wasn’t there, and a wave of excitement passed over me. I was on my own and liking it. My parents were in for a surprise.

I asked an attendant about transportation services. Surely I wasn’t going to walk home.

“Well,” she said. “You’ve got your cab service, and there’s the bus. I s’pose it’d depend on where abouts you were headed. How many miles?”

I stopped for a moment, wishing I knew the distance, jogging my memory for any small clue.

“Mall,” I muttered under my breath, shuddering as I remembered my last encounter with the place.

“What?”

“Uh…” I shook my head. “What’s the name of the nearest mall?”

“The Two-Story Mall,” the woman replied.

I paused for a moment. I knew that name.

“Yes, yes, I know,” the attendant said. “It’s a pathetic name.”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant. It’s just that…” I took a deep breath while I collected my thoughts. “How far from here is the Two-Story Mall?”

“Not too far,” the woman replied. “Ten miles at most.”

“Then it should be about seventy-five miles I’ll need to travel.”

“I’ll? the woman repeated. “You mean you’re hear by yourself? Golly, the things parents will let their children do on their own!”

“Ma’am, your recommendations?”

“You could take two buses and a cab,” the woman answered. “Or, you know, we have a service that drives you home…”

“Well, ma’am, why didn’t you say so before?”

I couldn’t believe how much time I wasted talking to that woman, how much closer I could be to home, had I not talked to her. So, I took what money I had left to pay for the cab service.

I sighed as I climbed into the car, and fidgeted uncomfortably through the whole ride, constantly checking the dial that said how much I owed. When we were passing Tidal Park, I only had one dollar left, so I had the driver drop me off there.

Great, I thought as the car drove away. Now I’ve got to drag my suitcase all the way home. I hadn’t prepared for that, but seeing little other choice, I picked up my suitcase and walked home.

I gasped as I turned onto my street when the thought occurred to me that my parents might not be home. I found it unnecessary to worry, however, when I saw a polka-dotted Cadillac in the driveway. I smiled and crept toward the house.

I took a deep breath and opened the front door.

“Robert, honey, is that you?” my mother’s voice called softly from the other room.

“Hello!?” I called loudly. “I’m home!”

My mother rushed into the room. “Monica…” she approached me slowly, like one would approach a corpse in a casket at a funeral home. Then she wrapped me in a tight hug.

Maybe she is as sweet as Mrs. Sooplex…

“Yeah,” I said once she released me. “I’m home for Christmas.”

“Oh, I’ve missed you,” she said, and for a moment I thought she was going to hug me again, but she didn’t. “Well, aren’t you going to tell me about Cabot’s? I saw a bit of it when I dropped you off, but what’s it like?”

“Don’t you want me to wait until Dan and Dad are here so I can tell them, too?” I asked.

“No, no, it’s okay,” she replied.

“You won’t have to wait, I’m here.” After Dad spokaye from the doorway, there was silence. The tone he used was the same tone that he used when Dan was in trouble. But he wasn’t talking to Dan this time. In face, Dan was standing right beside him, his irritable expression matching Dad’s perfectly.

“I, um… did I do something wrong?” I asked.

“You’re home early,” said my mother.

“Monica, how’d you get here?” Dad asked.

“Is everything okay at work?” my mother asked.

“What kind of question is that?” I asked. “Huh, Dad?”

“Young lady, I don’t like your tone,” Dad scolded.

“Why is Daniel here?” my mother asked. “Was he with you at work?”

I couldn’t believe that, with all the talking going on, Dan remained silent. I stared at his eyes, so deep. It felt like he was saying, “This is all your fault. And you don’t even know what you’ve done, do you?”

“NO!” I replied, out loud. “Could you all just stop it!?”

Then, there was a deafening silence. And finally, my mother said, “So this is what New York’s done to you.”

“NO!” I said again. “All New York’s done to me is pen my eyes to how great life can be! If anything, it’s changed me for the better!”

“Young lady, I-”

“Don’t you ‘young lady’ me!” I snapped. “If anyone’s changed, it’s you. You sound like an Aunt Julie clone!”

I stomped off to my room (though I almost walked into the bathroom by mistake) and threw myself onto my bed, letting my suitcase fall into the floor. However, I had slept the entire flight from New York, and was only able to lie awake, staring at my bookcase, which looked pathetic after seeing Cabot’s library. I skimmed the titles: Cinderella, Romeo and Juliet, and 101 Things You’d Never NEED to Know. Each of these books I’d read numerous times, and I didn’t want to read them again, not today.

“Hey, Girl, what up?” asked Dan’s voice, suddenly coming from my doorway.

“You could’ve knocked,” I grumbled, my arms crossed.

“Hmph.” Dan turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Knock! Knock!

Dan reentered the room, and I couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t his most hilarious, but it certainly lightened the mood.

“So, Cabot’s School for the Talented and Bright… what’s it like?” he asked. “The school, New York, all of it. How was it?”

“You actually want to hear about it?” I rolled over on my bed to look at him. “I thought you were angry about something.”

“Well, for a while, we all were,” Dan replied. “You didn’t write us or call us- well, in less you count your message on the answering machine… what was that about anyway?”

“Long story,” I said.

“We’ve got two weeks,” Dan said,

“Right.” I sighed. “Two weeks. So, do you want to hear about Cabot’s or my phone call?”

“Fine, I get it,” he said. “You don’t want to talk about it.”

“Or maybe I think you don’t need to know everything down to the last detail.”

“O…kay.” Dan looked taken aback, but why? Why was everything his business? “Come on, we’ll talk later. Right now, let’s go to the park, just how we used to.”

I shrugged. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Don’t you want to change out of your uniform and into something more sensible?”

I looked down at the uniform I was wearing, realizing that he meant that a skirt was not ideal for the park. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll change and be out in a minute.”

Dan left the room, and I walked over to my dresser. I pulled out a pair of jeans. Immediately after putting them on, I missed my skirt. The jeans were rough and tight, not at all like the baggy gym shorts I had grown accustomed to. I threw on a too-big hoodie over a loose t-shirt. The complete attire felt foreign to me, like I was a dog in a cat’s fir coat, but I ignored this and went outside, finding Dan by the stop sign. I took out my bicycle and hopped onto it, stumbling only briefly to remember how to use it.

Finally, I caught up to Dan, who realized this, and sped off toward Tidal Park, where The Guyz were waiting.

Upon first seeing us, Chad laughed. “I don’t know what you were so worried about, Boss, The Girl hasn’t changed a bit.”

“Right down to the hair,” added a voice from behind me that sounded horribly familiar. It was a female’s , but I couldn’t remember her name. Until I turned around.

The person standing before me, I had never seen before. She was wearing skin-tight jeans, and looked far older than fourteen, but I knew she was. Her long, black hair flowed down her shoulders and back like a polluted river. I did not know her. I had met the twelve-year-old her. I didn’t like her at age twelve, and I didn’t like her at age fourteen either.

“Hey, Natasha, what up?” Dan said coolly. Was he actually flirting with her? I wanted to kick him.

“Ahem!” I said, not for fear of seeing spit-swap, but because Tashy was not at all good enough for Dan.

“What?” Natasha said without taking her eyes off Dan.

I was positive that I could get some support from The Guyz on this one, but no. They were grinning at two girls who were batting their eyelashes from a few yards away,

I sat down on the dead grass, watching the last leaves fall from the trees, and blow away, never to be seen again.

“I can’t believe you actually put up with that skirt for so long,” Dan laughed at dinner that evening. “I mean, you just about did last year when Aunt Janet made you wear that dress for Christmas!”

“I don’t have to dress up this year, do I?” Yes, I had become used to wearing skirts while at Cabot’s, but I despised dresses above all else.

My mother sighed. “Well, I guess not, but mostly because you’ve had to wear that skirt for months now…”

“Just don’t point it out to Aunt Julie-”

“Julianna,” my mother corrected.

“Yes, yes, of course,” I said. “Sorry, Mother. I’ll begin [practicing my bowing and scraping now, so I don’t disgrace Madame.”

My mother’s expression looked half-tickled, half-annoyed, and partly bemused. Dad still was choosing to speak to me little.

“Dad, are you angry because of me message on the answering machine?” I asked.

I heard my mother mutter something, something, something, “blunt”, then another couple somethings.

“Messages,” Dad clarified, and I took that to mean, “yes”.

“If you’d like, I’ll explain,” I said.

“Actually, I’ll explain,” Dan interrupted. “You see, it’s my fault. I sent a letter to her, told her to call and say… well, you’ve already heard the message. I thought it’d be a bit of a jokaye, I didn’t mean it to go this far. I’m sorry, sir.”

My jaw dropped. How could he take the wrap for that? He had nothing to do with it! Was he trying to get himself in trouble?

I saw a look of disappointment come over Dad, then anger.

“I’m done,” I said. “Dan’s done, too. We’ll call Uncle Samuel and tell him to expect Dan in an hour at the most.”

I hopped out of my seat and turned to leave the room; Dan took the hint and followed me.

“Why did you tell Uncle Robert that you’re going to tell Uncle Sam that it’ll take an hour?”

“Because that’s what I’m going to do.”

“You know it only takes me forty-five minutes!”

I was already dialing the number. Ringing. Ringing. Uncle Samuel, pick up your phone!

“Hello?”

“Hello? This is Monica, Uncle Samuel. Yeah, I’m on Christmas break. Sorry, but I’ve got to make this call short. Yeah. I was just calling to let you know that Dan’ll be home in about an hour. okay. I’ll see you Christmas! Bye!”

“Why did you tell him that?” Dan almost looked angry, but he wasn’t. What he was, I didn’t know, but it was usually difficult (for me, at least) to anger.

“Me? Why did you tell my dad it was your fault?” I asked.

“That’s right,” he said. “I took the wrap fro you, it’s what I do. I don’t care what New York’s done to you, I’m not changing.”

Huh! What about Tashy, hmm? Y’all’s relationship ain’t changed none, huh?

“I got to go,” Dan said. “I guess I’ll take the long way since I’m supposed to take an hour. I’ll see you at y’all’s Christmas party. We’ll be early.”

“Like always.” I smiled as Dan left, but as I should have anticipated, Dad wasn’t through with me.

“How come you didn’t write to us or call us to tell us what Dan told you to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I shrugged dismissively. “It just slipped my mind, I guess. I was so busy reading, and doing homework, I… I guess I just forgot. I really am sorry.”

My mother and dad seemed to accept my package of half-truths, and I was happy with that.

I went to my room, and began to brainstorm. After all, I had to buy gifts for several people, and didn’t have a clue what to get.

And with what money?

That question stumped me. I only had two weeks, and my only option was to make something. I had never been very crafty, and my talent for homework wouldn’t help me now. Besides my lack of experience in making things, I had few materials.

Duct tape, I told myself lamely.

Desperate though it may seem, I searched the internet for “things you can make out of duct tape”. I couldn’t believe someone had made a duct tape lovers website.

Things You Can Make:

wallets

purses

belts

shoes

dresses

roses

pencil holders

I smiled. I couldn’t believe someone made the site, but I loved it. I took out a piece of paper and started jotting things down:

Dan - pencil holder

Uncle Samuel - wallet

Aunt Julie - roses

Abby - dress

Aly - dress

Aunt Anna - ?

Uncle Joe - ?

Erl - shoes?

It took long studies and my entire two weeks, but I learned how to make a pencil holder for Dan, and a wallet for Uncle Samuel, but the duct tape roses for Aunt Julie proved impossible; they took skill and precision in art that I simply did not have. So, I made her a flower out of tissue paper, and it almost didn’t look half-bad, I handmade Christmas cards for Aunt Anna and Uncle Joe (they, unlike Aunt Julie, appreciated the simple things). The only shoes I could make that Erl might wear were flip-flops. None of these items took as long as Aly and Abby’s dresses.

After all was done, I realized I shouldn’t have put so much work into the gifts. Uncle Samuel, Aunt Anna, Uncle Joe, and Erl might get something out of their gifts. Dan wouldn’t really use a pencil holder, Aunt Julie would look at the flower with pity, and the dresses would be thrown in the garbage as soon as the twins got home.

I met Dan at the stop sign on the after noon of Christmas Eve. I could’ve waited at home, but I was excited, so I didn’t.

“Guess what?” was the first thing he said, but didn’t appear to be excited. “Nana and Grandmother are both coming.”

“Oh no,” I groaned. Nana and Grandmother weren’t actually Dan’s grandparent, but he addressed them as such.

Nana and Grandmother both came from families with strict traditions. Grandmother (my mother’s mother) liked everything good and proper, and Nana… her traditions didn’t occur at most celebrations, but when they did, it was strange. When the paths of Nana and Grandmoth crossed, one tradition would prevail; one that included me.

It was a memorial for Roseanne Ginger, Dan’s real grandmother. She was a performer back in her day. She could sing, and always stole the spotlight by doing so. She could also dance; Uncle Samuel was her partner. As previously noted, she died.

Naturally, Nana wanted to do something to remember her by. When Nana first mentioned this idea, Grandmother just happened to be there. And she just happened to have an idea, too: a memorial dance, because Rose performed. Dan was her last descendent. Guess who got to perform with him?

“But I don’t want to dress up, though!”

Dan looked down, and I realized my error. Rose was, after all, his grandmother, and I was supposed to represent her (Dan represented Uncle Samuel; it was a reenactment of their first performance).

“Yeah, I’ll do it,” I said, and we walked back to my house, where we went straight up the stairs and into my bedroom.

“Have you called your friends yet?” Dan asked as I fingered through my closet, searching for the red dress I wore only for this tradition.

“Who? Oh, no, I haven’t.”

“What did you say their names were, again?” Dan asked.

“Actually, I don’t recall ever mentioning that to you at all,” I said, but I knew he’d get the information out of me one was or another, so I told him, “Lee Sooplex and Nick Porker.”

Dan let his entire face fall into his hands. “No girl friends, eh? Wait, did you say Nick Porker?”

I nodded.

“The Nick Porker?”

I nodded again.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he said. “This Lee guy… you mentioned him first. Dang, he must be something’ else if you mention him before Nick Porker.”

I shrugged. “He’s okay, I guess. But Nick Porker’s not all that either, trust me.”

“Really?”

“Who do you think raised his GPA?”

“You?”

“Me. Actually, I hated the both of them after getting to know them.”

“And yet you helped the study?” Dan gave me his “I-cannot-believe-how-desperate-you-are” look.

“Well, eventually, the hate lessened to dislike, and no we’re cool.”

“So, you’re not considered a geek sickle anymore? -Not that you ever were… You know, I’m going to leave the room. Let you change.”

I smiled as Dan left the room, and then put the dress on. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I felt like I should be holding a fan or something; it would look good.

Dan reentered moments later and looked at me, the way a father looks at his daughter, as though saying, “Quit growing up so fast!”

“Beautiful,” he sighed. “Now, I’m going to need this.” He picked up a velvet box off my desk and put it in the pocket of his suit jacket. Inside the box was a amulet that had belonged to Rose. She never performed without it. After her death, it was passed from Uncle Samuel to Dan to me. This day, it would be our prop.

“Now,” I said. “Let’s go over the dance once before everyone gets here. I haven’t done this all year, and I’d hate to flub up in front of the whole family.”

Dan nodded. “Just remember to put that rose in your hair. It’s crucial to the tradition.”

“Right.”

After all of our guests had arrived (Uncle Samuel, Uncle Joe, Aunt Anna, Uncle Billy, Aunt Julie, Abby, Aly, Grandmother, Grandfather, Nana, and Grandpa), we gathered around at table. We enjoyed a smokayed ham, sweet potatoes, and steamed vegetables. Aunt Anna brought her homemade rolls, and Aunt Julie brought salad. We listened to Aunt Anna talk about her horses and livestock, then sat through Aunt Julie’s list of newly obtained possessions, gritting our teeth. Then, once everyone had finished the males stood up, and the females cleared the table, just like Grandmother liked it.

Then, everyone gathered silently in the living room, and the tango intro began.

“Rose, my dear, you are forgetting something,” said Dan, projecting his voice, and using the quotes Uncle Samuel had given him.

“But Samuel, what on earth do you mean?” I asked, also using memorized quotes.

Dan took out the velvet box and pulled out a amulet with a heart-shaped pendant. The pendant was black, and had diamonds outlining it. In the very center of the heart was a red rose.

Dan clasped it around my neck, and our tango began.

“Flawless,” Dan said when we finished. “And the best part is it’s over.”

I chuckled lightly. “I’ll go get changed.”

“Yeah,” said Dan. “And hurry, you’d hate to miss Aunt Julie’s gift.” He said this in a lower tone.

“I won’t be long.”

It took me no long at all to get out of that dress (mostly because I really wanted to). Then I only had to grab my gifts and get going.

Most people say that Christmas is all about the gift-giving, and it’s mostly done for the kids. Nana believed this, and this was they way it was done last year. But this time, it was Grandmother’s turn, so the older people received their gifts first.

Everyone dug around in the pile for their present for Grandfather, and sat their gifts before him.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Grandmother said as she counted the gifts. “We’re missing one.”

Mine.

I came before my mother’s parents, and could have sworn I heard Aunt Julie mutter, “disgraceful” as I walked by.

“I’m sorry, Grandfather,” I said. “I forgot.”

Grandmother seemed as though she was about to scold me, but Grandfather spokaye first.

“You’re forgiven,” he said softly. “New York City is more than enough to lure one’s attention. You’ll have to tell us more about that later.”

I nodded and returned to my stack of gifts, as Abby and Aly brought their gifts to Grandfather: a tie and a new comb set. Then, my mother gave Grandfather an embroidered handkerchief, and Aunt Julie gave him a trip for two on a cruise.

Grandmother got a pearl necklace and matching earrings from Abby and Aly. From my mother, she got a gift certificate to a hair stylist, and from Aunt Julie, she got a prepaid spa getaway.

Grandpa got a toupee made out of horse hair from Erl. Dan got him a pair of sunglasses (quite useless in winter), and Uncle Joe gave him some homemade jam. Dad gave him a day-pass to the restaurant. Last was Uncle Samuel, who gave him a photo album. Grandpa never talked much; his only word of thanks was a shake of his cane.

Nana got handpicked flowers from Erl, and a vase from Dan. Uncle Joe gave her some bacon. Dad gave her a blank book to write her traditions in, and Uncle Samuel gave her a music record.

Uncle Samuel got homemade maple syrup from Erl, the duct tape walled from me (to which he laughed), and a small, potted tree from Dan. Uncle Joe gave him the first season of some TV show on DVD, and Dad gave him a gift certificate for the restaurant.

Uncle Billy (Aunt Julie’s husband) got some classy shoes from Abby and Aly, and a new tie from Aunt Julie. Usually, we only give gifts to blood relatives, so no one else gave him anything.

Most everyone else’s gifts were too pointless to mention, and boring.

Except the gifts to me.

Dan gave me a lump of coal (underneath which I found a note stating my real present would be given to me later). Mom and Dad got me a new choose-your-own-ending book with over one-hundred possible endings.

Then came Aunt Julie’s gift…s.

“Here you are,” she said to me, but had nothing in her hands.

“Ma’am?”

“What is it, child?” she asked.

“Pardon me for saying so, but you haven’t given me anything.” I was aware that this sounded both rude and arrogant, and I was going to not mention it because it was Christmas, but her expression implied she expected me to say something.

“Forgiveness does not usually take form of material things, Monica.”

Yeah, she’s one to talk.

“Forgiveness, ma’am?”

“She’s relenting her punishment,” Aly explained, and when my confused expression did not change, Abby added, “You never did groom Sparkle.”

“Oh yeah.” I smiled weakly. “Sorry about that.” That punishment had been put into effect so long ago, I had practically forgotten about it, and was not the slightest bit sorry for not going through with it. But, again, it was Christmas.

I was about to tear into Uncle Samuel’s book-shaped gift, but Aunt Julie stopped me.

“Child, upper class people remember the importance of actual gifts to… children,” she said.

I assumed that “upper class people” was referring to her, and “children” was referring to me; I was not pleased by this, but… it was Christmas, and I decided it best, for the time being, to hold my tongue.

“Here you are,” she said again, but this time, she was holding something. The package was rectangular, and for a moment, I was excited. Then, I wasn’t. The book in the package was titled Etiquette for the Hopeless. I gritted my teeth and thanked her for it, hoping Dan had gotten me something worthwhile.

And he did not disappoint me. After everyone on my mother’s side had left, Dan took me upstairs, and handed me a rather large, rectangular package.

Inside the package, was a thick, leather-bound book.

“What is it?” I asked, as I stared blankly at the book.

“Oh, dang it!” Dan murmured. “I forgot the padlocks and chains at home. Here’s the pen, though.” He took a pen from behind his ear that didn’t appear to have any ink in it, and handed it to me. “It’s got invisible ink,” he added to my questioning look.

“So, does this book contain some huge secret I’m to discover?” I asked.

“Just yours.”

“But I don’t have any-”

“Ahem.” Dan raised his eyebrows and gave a short nod, a sure sign that the answer was obvious if I would only use my brain.

“So, this is like a diary-type thing?” I guessed.

“Close enough,” Dan said, shrugging. “Tomorrow we’ll go hang with The Guyz, and then I’ll give you the padlocks and chains.”

“Thanks.” I smiled, finally remembering the way things used to be.

Just as I had almost lost myself in my memories - almost made myself believe things were as they once were - Dan reminded me that I was wrong.

“We should go downstairs. Everyone’s dying to hear about Cabot’s and New York. Especially me. But, of course, you can give me the juicy details later.”

“And what makes you think there are any juicy details to tell?” I asked.

He said nothing, but gave me him “you-know-that-I-know” look.

We went downstairs, where we found my dad, making wild gestures to Aunt Anna, Uncle Joe, and Uncle Samuel, as he rambled about how the restaurant was “absolutely booming”. Erl had already fallen asleep.

“okay, look, they’ve finished upstairs!” Aunt Anna announce, clearly tired of my dad’s ranting.

Uncle Samuel smiled. “Now, let’s hear all about New York.”

My dad’s mouth stopped dead in its tracks. A look of disappointment spilled over his face, as he found that his audience had been stolen by his eleven-year-old daughter.

I kept my story very vague. I mentioned Lee and Nick, but not the part about our rocky start. I mentioned our teachers, but not Mr. Sankter, and definitely not Duke. I left out the part that, for a while, I had been far worse than a misfit, and temporarily forgot about Leah oadebhor.

When I finished, I found everyone smiling at me, some sweetly, some kindly, and some with pride.

Maybe, just maybe, my family’s just as good as Lee’s.CHAPTER ___

“So, have a good Christmas? Lee asked as I approached him for the first time in two weeks, Nick by his side.

“Actually, I did,” I replied. “And you two?”

“Okay,” said Nick.

“Okay?” Lee repeated. “Do you believe him? Okay? Jennifer baked cupcakes. Jennifer! She doesn’t bake!”

“Well, for somebody who doesn’t bake, she did a pretty good job,” said Nick.

“If you say so…”

“Never mind that,” I said, and took two small wrapped packages out of my sack. “Merry Christmas, open ’em up.”

They looked at each other only briefly before peeling the wrapping paper off, revealing two-

“Calculators?” they both said in utter disbelief.

“Graphing calculators,” I elaborated.

Neither one of them said anything.

I had been luck The Guyz had all pitched in to get me a big Bob*Mart gift card (I doubted Lee and Nick would have liked duct tape pencil holders much).

“Er, thanks,” Nick said awkwardly, while Lee remained speechless. “Oh yeah, that reminds me, Lee do you have the…”

“Right,” Lee said as he shook himself from his thoughts, and picked up a cardboard box, which he shoved at me.

“I-”

“Open the box,” Lee said, rolling his eyes.

I blinked noticeably and opened the box. Inside were several things, all concealed by giftwrap, ribbons, and bows.

“You guys, I-”

Nick mouthed, “Just open it.”

And so I did.

The first one was a pink and blue scarf made of soft baby yarn. I had no doubt Mrs. Sooplex had made it herself. “Thanks,” I said, still feeling the scarf.

“Hurry up, open the other ones,” said Lee.

The next one was rectangular, but it did not look remotely like a book. Quickly, I opened it. A big smile did not spread over my face, but rather, I glared at Lee. It was a hair straightener.

Nick snorted.

“Don’t look at me,” said Lee, putting up his hands defensively. “Jennifer did it.”

I exhaled slowly, groaning. Jenny would do something like this. I should’ve gotten her a bar of soap to wash that black gunk off her eyes.

“These are from me and Nick.” Lee held out two, nearly identical, rectangular packages. And better yet, they looked like books.

As a general rule, however, looks - particularly, good looks - are often deceiving. For the packages did not contain books at all, but boxed chocolate.

“Thanks,” I said again, keeping it short so I could change the subject swiftly. “Nick, how come you didn’t celebrate Christmas with your parents? I know you’re famous and all, but surely the Porkers do Christmas!”

Lee rolled his eyes, but whether or not it was aimed at me, I couldn’t say.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” he gestured toward the cardboard box the gifts had been in.

I was about to either tell him to recycle it, or push Nick further about his Christmas and his family, but a whole other idea came over me. “Can I catch up with you guys in a bit?”

“Like when? After curfew?” asked Lee.

“Like breakfast.”

With that, I scurried off toward the library, eager to see if there were any new books. I found no new books (or rather, none that were of interest), but did find a person.

It was a man. He looked around my father’s age, or perhaps a bit older. His hair ranged from black, to gray, to white, and his eyes were electric blue. He looked familiar, but only vaguely. As though I had once - long ago - seen his face and memorized its every detail, but only seen him occasionally, and from afar, since.

“Hello, sir,” I said to him as he checked out his book. I did not feel the slightest bit shy.

“Oh… uh… hello,” he replied, sounding both shocked and excited to be talking to me.

“Can I help you, sir?” I asked.

“No, no,” said the man. “I’m substituting for Mr. Kendrin for a day or so. I’ve just arrived, and thought to my self, ‘A library? That sounds worth checking out.’ I’m Bruce Sham, by the way.”

“Oh, I’m Monica Ginger,” I said, holding out my hand.

“Ah,” I thought so,” he said, shaking my hand.

His hands were not rough with calluses, as most men’s’ hands are; the only ridges on his hands were paper cuts, and even those were few and far between.

“I’ve heard quite a bit about you lately,” he said.

“All good I hope?”

“Well there was an incident or two… no, I’m kidding… Nice to see you - meet you. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

I set off for my dormitory, where the other girls had already changed into their pajamas, and were in bed, starting to doze off.

I put on my nightgown and crawled into bed.

The time was two years ago, 7pm. I was wearing a no-sleeve, black dress that wend down to my knees, and standing nervously in front of a mirror. Dan was standing beside me in his white tuxedo, a purple jacket underneath his suit jacket, and a red tie.

“Ready?” he asked. We were the third act in the talent show.

I bit my lip. “I don’t know…”

He clasped Aunt Rose’s amulet around my neck. “Rose is with you now. She’s done this for ages. Let her be your confidence.”

“Okay,” I said, gazing into his kind eyes.

And confidence did come, but not because of the amulet, because of Dan. As always, he was with me, there for me. Aunt Rose was of no solace to me; I had never even met the woman! The amulet was not special to me because of what Rose did, or who she was; it was special to me because it was special to Dan, and even so, he gave it to me.

“Beautiful! Beautiful!” we heard the announcer say. “Next up, we’ve got Monica and Dan Ginger, singing You’re My Angel as a duet. Give it up, y’all.”

Dan and I walked onto the stage, and the music began. After the intro, Dan started singing, his voice confident, strong, and passionate.

My voice joined his for the refrain, and eventually, I had to look out to the audience instead of at Dan.

My mother was sitting in the front row, smiling proudly at me (Dad was at the restaurant).

Then came the second verse, and my voice was alone, not as strong and mighty as Dan’s, but still somewhat confident, for the words were not only in my memory bank, but were also In my heart, for as I said before, this was our song.

The song ended and we got heavy applause (mostly from my mother). The loudest whistle I had ever heard joined the applause.

It came from a man with hair ranging from black to white who had electric blue eyes.

“Must be nice to sleep in,” Lee grumbled as I dragged my feet into the cafeteria at 10AM for breakfast.

“Yeah, what kept you?” Nick asked. “We’ve been waiting.”

“Slept in,” I mumbled groggily, my mind still on my dream from last night. It gave me a weird feeling of déjà vu. Could that really have been just a dream? It seemed like all of that had happened before. Because it had. Dan and I had entered the talent show when I was nine. We had sung a duet then, and I do recall someone familiar in the crowd, but had it really been Mr. Sham? Was my dream a mere memory, or a collision between the memory and my meeting with Mr. Sham?

“Did you not hear me?” said Nick, slightly annoyed. “We’ve been waiting for you for an hour.”

That moment was when my brain actually decided to wake up. And I remembered: I was supposed to catch up with Lee and Nick at breakfast.

“Right, right,” I said with new energy. “Have you all seen Mr. Sham yet?”

“Mr. who?” they said in unison.

“Mr. Sham,” I replied. “Bruce Sham. Our new Health teacher. Substitute actually.”

“You know too much,” said lee in almost disgust.

I rolled my eyes. “Or maybe you should just pay more attention. No, I met him in the library last night and he - there he is!”

Bruce Sham stood in the doorway to the cafeteria.

As I looked at him, I was instantly reminded of the time, five years ago, when my dad had been in the hospital, and Dan and I were in the hospital’s cafeteria.

“Where have I seen him before?” I demanded, not quite registering I had said it aloud until three seconds after I had said it.

“The library,” said Lee. “You just told us that. How do you remember everything with a ten-second memory span like a goldfish?”

“You remembered!” I exclaimed.

“Of course,” he said. “You just told us three minutes ago-”

“No! Not that. I mean the memory span of a goldfish. See? You remembered. I told you that studying wasn’t useless.Chapter __

“He seems to favor you,” said Nick, after Mr. Sham’s class. Everyone seemed to like Mr. Sham… at least he didn’t talk to himself.

“Can’t imagine why,” I muttered in response.

“I can,” Lee cut in. “All the teachers favor you, and for the same reason!”

“I don’t mean that,” said Nick. “I mean even more so than the other teachers. It’s just… strange.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t realize… maybe a little… maybe you’re just paranoid, Nick.”

“So, I’m thinking for Spring break…” Lee said out of nowhere.

“It’s a bit early to be thinking about that, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Well, no,” said Lee. “It’s only a season away. But here’s what I was thinking. Why don’t we all just stay here for Spring?”

“I don’t care,” I said. “But I am not going home over Spring break. No.”

“Things not go well over Christmas?” Nick asked, only because I, too, had given him a hard time about his Christmas.

“No, no, they went lovely,” I said. Lovely as a cow patty stuck between your toes on a hot day.

“So, it’s agreed, then?” said Lee. “We stay here for Spring break. So, nobody make any plans, okay?”

With that, Lee ran off.

“Something tells me Lee’s already made plans for us,” I said.

Nick nodded. “But whatever it is, it’s not until Spring break.”

“Until then,” I said. “We study.”

Nick must have really had his mind set on impressing our teachers, for he studied hard.

In the time between then and Spring break, my high grade remained steady, Nick’s grade went up from a D+ to a C. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for Lee. He had been distracted by something (neither Nick nor I could say what), and his grades slipped from a D+ to a D-. I was beginning to fear he would fail his end-of-year exams (most refer to them as tests, but I’d heard they were really hard, and so deigned them exams).

Spring came fast. It was amazing how fast time flew without Dan by my side. The first ten years of my life seemed so sluggish now, and I was happy to tell Lee I had made no change of plans to go home.

“Great,” Lee replied. “’Cause it’s all set.”

“What’s all set?” I asked, sensing by the look on Lee’s face that his plan involved behavior that I would consider questionable.

I was right.

“Come into our dorm,” said Lee. “I’ll tell you there.”

At the beginning of the year, all the girls in my dorm had frowned at my entering the boys’ dormitory, but by now, everyone had grown accustomed to my presence there, and it was understood that nothing was “wrong” about it.

The dorm was empty save for us, so we had the privacy Lee wanted.

“Get this,” he said. “Duke’s staying here for Spring break!”

“I must not have ‘gotten it’ because you sound thrilled, and I’m not.”

“Yeah, Lee,” said Nick. “Duke always stays here for breaks; his dad’s Mr. Sankter, remember?”

“Oh, believe me, I haven’t forgotten,” Lee said. “And that’s exactly what we’re going to take care of over break.”

“We’re going to make you forget about Duke?” I guessed, not entirely catching on to Lee’s “plan:”.

“No, we’re going to take care of Duke,” said Lee.

“How so?”

“You are so naïve.”

“Funny, everyone’s always saying that.”

“What Lee means to say,” Nick cut in. “Is that he wants to pull a prank on Duke.”

Questionable behavior.

“Hmm… I don’t know,” I said.

“Come on, don’t ruin the fun,” said Lee. “Do something against the rules for once in your life. This one time, don’t be a Goody Two Shoes.”

“For once? This one time?” I repeated. “I already did! Remember? Beginning of this year I cheated for you guys. That’s against the rules. So, there.”

Dan’s voice spoke in my head, Good going, Girl. Say NO to peer pressure.

“Come on, Monica,” the boys whined.

The Boss is not the boss of you anymore, said another voice in my head.

“You guys are right,” I said. “He deserves it.”

“So, what did you have in mind?” Nick asked.

“I’m thinking total sabotage,” Lee replied. “Itching powder, dyes, razors; I’ve got everything w could possibly need.”

“Where did all this come from?” I asked, looking through the cardboard box of pranks on Lee’s bed.

“Well, let’s put it this way,” Lee said. “My siblings are very supportive of this hobby.”

Something told me that Phillip wasn’t included in this reference to “siblings”.

“Right… So, what’s the game plan?”

“I’m thinking itchy uniform, and either blue hair or bald,” Lee replied.

“Detention,” said Mr. Sankter after we were summoned to his office one week into Spring break. “I don’t know about you, but that sure sounds fitting to me. detention for the rest of Spring break, I think should suffice.”

Lee and Nick shared looks with each other. I couldn’t believe they were going to go down without a fight! Didn’t they have any sort of back-up plan for this occasion? Oh well, I said to myself. After all, I had seen Dan get out of tough spots with his principal (and, I think, on one occasion, with the police) many, many times. How hard could it be?

“Could you at least tell us why you’re giving us a week’s worth detention?” I asked, playing ignorant.

“Because I’m feeling nice today. You’re lucky not to get suspended for what you’ve done.”

“And just what is it we’ve done?” asked Nick, catching on.

“Although I’m sure you already know, I’ll humor you,” said Mr. Sankter. “A student’s hair was cut short and dyed blue. What does that tell you?”

“That he - or she - needs to look over the dress code again?” I said.

“Your cheek is not acceptable here, Miss Ginger,” said Mr. Sankter coldly. “Also, this student’s bed was filled with itching powder. What does that tell you?”

“That he - or she - shouldn’t sleep with itching powder because it might spill?” Lee said.

“Mr. Soupless, trust me. Your jokes are not going to get you on my good side, and my good side is exactly where you need to be right now,” said Mr. Sankter. “A student’s sleeping area was also used as a storage for potpourri.” He said this with utmost seriousness that Lee and Nick almost laughed.

“Maybe his girlfriend brought it there, meaning for it to be an appreciated gift?” I suggested, remembering the older girl who had asked him to the dance.

“Ah-ha!” said Mr. Sankter, as though I had just said something incriminating. “You assume that it’s a male because you know that it’s a male because you are the culprit!”

“Ah - no!” sad Lee and Nick in unison.

“What they mean to say is…no,” I said cleverly. “I… assumed it was a male because you mentioned potpourri as a registered complaint. Typically, females like the scent of potpourri more than males. So, I could easily conclude from your statement that the victim was a male.”

“But I have evidence that the three of you are the culprits,” said Mr. Sankter.

“Oh.” My content smile slipped slowly into a scowl. “In that case, we confess, and will serve our detentions throughout the remainder of Spring break.”

“Good day, children.”

And we left.

“Why did you say that?” Lee asked. “In that case, we confess! Betcha he was lying. I made sure we didn’t leave any evidence lying about. That’s a rookie mistake. Mr. Sankter just figured that a goody-goody know-it-all like you would snap under pressure. Tsk, tsk. So predictable.”

“Oh please,” I said. “Even if I hadn’t admitted we’d done it, we’d still have detention. I mean, for goodness sake! Duke is Mr. Sankter’s son; he was bound to find out, and we were bound to get punished. If anything, I decreased our sentence.”

“Hmph.”

“What was up with the potpourri stuff?” Nick asked. “We didn’t tell you to do that.”

“Yeah, well, I had extra time between studying History and Math, so I disposed of some potpourri in his pillow,” I explained.

“Yes, but why?” Nick asked.

“Because I’m a girl and I dislike the smell of potpourri, so how much more so would a boy dislike it? It would be absolute torture.”

“That’s brilliant!” said Lee.

“Yes,” I said. “But I don’t think detention’s going to be.”

“Oh, please,” said Lee. “We’ll probably just have to write another essay about ‘why what we did was wrong’. Big whoop.”

“You didn’t find it so easy last time,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like we’re graded on them” said Lee. “I could write… Monica’s a vampire, and be out of the library in two minutes.”

“Ha, ha,” I said, feeling my face grow hot. Was my garlic allergy that obvious? It was supposed to be a secret.CHAPTER ___

“Come on,” said the librarian. “Can’t you guys even behave over Spring break?”

The answer to that was no, but it sounded horrible to say so.

The librarian sighed desperately. “I’m going to go easy on the punishment. Just… just go apologize to Mr. Sankter, okay?”

“But we didn’t do anything to him,” I said idly.

“We should have,” Lee murmured.

“No, you guys,” said Nick. “She means Duke, Duke Sankter.”

“That’s right, Mr. Porker,” said the librarian. “Now, hop to it, and stay out of trouble.”

The three of us nodded and headed for Duke’s dormitory. We knocked at the door.

“Who’s there?” demanded a voice from inside.

“Nick Porker, Lee Sooplex, and Monica Ginger,” Nick answered.

“Tell them to get lost!” hissed a voice which I presumed to be Duke’s.

“Get lost!” repeated the first voice.

“Don’t be an idiot,” said Lee. “Open the door.”

“Calling him an idiot is not helping, Lee,” I snapped.

“Open up,” said Nick. “We want to uh-”

“What’s the problem, Nick?” I asked. “Just finish your sentence.”

“Nah,” said Nick. “I don’t do apologies.”

“Don’t look at me,” said Lee. “This whole thing goes against my beliefs.”

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll take care of it.” I could handle apologies. After all, I managed to put up with Aunt Julie, didn’t I?

“Duke, we want to apologize for our behavior. It was completely juvenile, and someone like you doesn’t deserve to be treated that way. The truth it, we were jealous of you, so we wanted you to look bad. It won’t happen again.”

Nick and Lee gave me incredulous looks.

“That sounded really-”

“Sincere?” I guessed.

“Actually, I was going to say sickening,” said Lee. “But whatever floats your boat.”

“Oh no,” I said. “There is no time for boat-floating; we’ve got exams coming up! We’ve got to study, study, study!”Chapter __

For the next five days, we studied and went to detention, which was fairly simple, as the librarian only had us filing paperwork.

Thanks to all our studying, we all managed to pass our exams, some with better grades than others.

Lee and Nick’s grades were both B-, but at least they passed. Of course, I passed with an A+.

“I guess we won’t be seeing each other until school starts again,” said Lee as we waited for his mother’s minivan.

“You’re right,” I agreed. “Alabama’s far too far from New York to visit during break.”

“And I’ll be with the team practically 24/7,” said Nick. “That is, if I haven’t already been replaced.”

“I’m going to miss you guys,” I cried.

“Man, when we first met you, we never would have thought we’d hear you say that,” said Lee.

“Wow, it really has been a year, hasn’t it?” said Nick.

The orange minivan then pulled up to the curb. “Come on, kids,” said Mrs. Sooplex in her sweet voice, her perm shaking as she spoke. “Get in.”

Mrs. Sooplex dropped Nick and me off at the airport (or rather, walked us in).

Nick got on his plan for LA, and I got on mine for Alabama. This time, I called first, and my whole fmily would be greeting me at the other end.

“Hey, Girl, ‘sup?” were the first words I heard after stepping off the plane, and I knew they belonged to Dan.

He wrapped me in a big hug. Though this was near the three-billionth time we’d done this, it felt weird. I hadn’t hugged anyone, let alone a guy, in such a long time.

“Where’s my parents?” I asked after Dan released me.

“They’re not here.”

“Just you?”

“No, The Guyz are here, too.”

Sure enough, just behind Dan, stood Chad and Brad.

“But how did you all get here?” I asked.

Dan took out of his wallet a card and pushed it into my face.

“Learner’s permit, eh?” I said, unable to believe Dan was old enough to drive. But then, when I got a closer look at him, I saw that he looked more like an adult than ever. He had grown into manhood over the year and, just as when he would ride to school with me, he wasn’t looking back.

“Uncle Samuel’s taking me and The Guyz out driving, so we told Uncle Robert we’d pick you up while we were out,” said Dan. “Uncle Samuel, over here!”

Uncle Samuel rushed over to the four of us. “My, how you’ve grown!” He, too, wrapped me in a hug, his bonier than Dan’s. I supposed that the way Uncle Samuel treated me was similar to that of a typical grandparent. Of course, I had never known a typical grandparent. Maybe Uncle Samuel realized this.

“What would you say to going out for ice cream?” Uncle Samuel asked.

“I’m driving!” said Chad.

Uncle Samuel laughed. “If we want Monica to live to come back to school, I suggest I drive.”

We had our ice cream cones, dropped off The Guyz at their houses, and then we were off to my house. Neither my mother nor my father were home, but I still had my key to the front door.

Dan and I walked in as Uncle Samuel drove away.

“Now that they’re all gone, I just wanted to say thanks.”

I decided nothing good could come out of this situation. Dan looked happier than ever, and he was thanking me, but I didn’t recall doing anything worth his thanks.

“For what?” I asked.

“For missing me, needing me,” said Dan. “I thought you might’ve grown tired of me and The Guyz, and us being your pals, and protecting you and stuff. But no, you went straight up to those people at Cabot’s and said, ‘Hey, Dan deserves to be here as much as I do! See? Listen to track 13. He can sing, see?’ Oh, gosh, I can’t thank you enough for putting in a good word for me. Now we can be together again. Boss and Girl. Just like old times.”

That last sentence echoed in my brain. I remembered the cheerleaders from G.W. Elementary School, wiggling their fingers and smiling flirtatiously at the jocks. I remembered the kids at the Rejects’ Table: the one with the afro; the one with the inhaler; the one teased for mix n’ match socks. I didn’t want to be one of them ever again. At Cabot’s I wasn’t. But if Dan was there…

“NO! I DON’T WANT YOU AT CABOT’S! I DON’T WANT YOUR PROTECTION! I LIKE MY LIFE HOW IT IS RIGHT NOW! PLEASE DON’T GO MESS IT UP! I’VE PUT UP WITH YOU BEING MY “BOSS” FOR NINE YEARS, AND I’M READY TO BE WITHOUT YOU! I DON’T WANT TO BE THE GIRL ANYMORE! I WANT TO BE Monica! I WANT TO HAVE A NAME!”

Dan just stared at me, his eyes brimming with tears. He seemed to want to say something, but have no words with which to respond.

I was hyperventilating now, but my rage had died, and soon I was able to speak without screaming.

“Honestly,” I said. “When you look at me, do you see Dan’s cousin, Monica, or do you see The Boss’s Girl in need of protection?”

“I thought you might want this,” Dan said, holding up a piece of paper. “Aunt Janet found it when she washed her pillowcase. ‘These last few days at Cabot’s have been awful. I was wrong about people here being like me; they’re not. They hate me here. I want to come home and never come back.’ Yeah, I get why your life’s so wonderful without me.”

Now, it was my turn to be speechless. I had written that in my first week at Cabot’s, and now I regretted it.

“Later,” said Dan, and he walked out the door of both the house, and of my life.

I scampered to my room, wanting to cry, though I couldn’t. It was as if I knew that, in the long run, everyone would be happier without L.S.P.P. around.

Even if it did hurt Dan to know that.

When it neared six o’clock in the evening, and I had made it considerably far in the choose-your-own-ending book I got for Christmas, my mother and father arrived, greeting me warmly. Lucky for me, I had become such a stranger to them, that they had no sense of the sadness from my fight with Dan that was weighing down my heart.

“Oh! Thank goodness you’re home!” my mother exclaimed.

“Of course I’m home,” I said. “School’s out, where else would I be?”

“Well, you didn’t come home for Spring break,” said my father.

And my entire Summer vacation took a turn for the worst.Chapter __

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “There’s a very logical explanation to that. I… I had detention throughout practically all of Spring break.”

My parents’ jaw dropped. I had forgotten they were expecting the same perfect angel who had left for New York last year, not a twelve-year-old who’d spent an entire week in detention.

Then, both my parents laughed. I joined in on their laughter, though unaware what exactly we were laughing about.

“Oh!” exclaimed my father, clutching his side and panting. “You got us good that time!”

My laughing ceased.

“Now, honestly, why weren’t you home for Spring break?” my mother asked.

I looked the both of them square in the eyes. “I was in detention.”

“Monica, that sounds so unlike you,” said my mother.

“No, no, dear,” said my father. “Don’t you see? She was framed! All of her jealous classmates would certainly have a motive to get her into trouble.”

“Um, can I go unpack now?” I asked, sensing dangerous waters.

My mother nodded, and I went upstairs, but as soon as I escaped their view, they started talking, and I felt the urge to listen.

“Oh yes,” said my mother sarcastically. My mother was rarely sarcastic, so this behavior captured my interest. “Let’s send her to New York! Finally, she will be able to live without that bad influence! Oh, yes, what a wonderful idea that was! Honestly, Robert, at least when she was here she never got detention!”

“Yes, but now that she’s gone, I don’t have to yell at Dan anymore,” said my father.

“Perhaps, but if my daughter keeps coming home with detentions, you’ll have to yell at her.”

My father sighed. “I know. But, Janet, I don’t think you realize how hard this is for me! It was so much easier when I could just point the finger at Dan. She never had to be responsible for her actions. Now this!”

“I know, dear. But we can pull her out of Cabot’s and school her here in Alabama again. If you recall, we made her a deal: she could go to Cabot’s one year, and if we approved, she could stay, and if not, we yank her out.”

There was a silence after that, which I took to mean that my father had given his assent to pulling me out of Cabot’s.

Dragging my suitcase behind me, I ran to my bedroom. I didn’t care if my parents heard me. It didn’t matter to me if they knew I’d heard everything they said. All that I could think of was how I was going to make it back to Cabot’s.

Typically, Dan would be the one to help me with this sort of thing, but considering the circumstances, I knew I would feel hypocritical even asking him.

I cried long streams of tears at this thought. I now regretted blowing up at Dan.

But was it only because I needed him?

I cried harder at this thought. How could I even think of using someone who had done nothing but help me since I was three years old? What a selfish brat I was! How could I ever think that someone could ever replace Dan? Who could ever fill his shoes?

Well, a voice in my head answered my rhetorical question. That person would have to be willing to be there for me always.

-Like Lee or Nick?

My crying slowed and my breathing eased. I was crying over Dan, and so suddenly, it seemed foolish. Crying because Dan had gotten hat he deserved would not keep me enrolled at Cabot’s.

But maybe someone else could.

Lee was the boy with all the plans. Maybe all his checker-playing really did help develop strategy. So, I seemed to have two choices. I could (1) convince Lee to teach me how to play checkers, or (2) convince Lee to devise a plan for me.

My second option seemed easier than the first by far, and very possible. All that was left was to contact Lee, who should have been home for hours at this time.

“Can I use the phone?” I asked after coming downstairs, accustomed to being a guest and asking permission for everything.

“Finished unpacking already?” asked my mother, who was turning on both the microwave and the toaster over.

“Um…nearly…” I said, wondering if she would bring up Cabot’s. “Can I use the phone?”

My mother turned to look at me suspiciously. “Yes… who did you want to call?”

“You remember Lee, right?” I said. “I told you about him, didn’t I? I wanted to call him.”

“Really?” said my mother, either very suspicious or very close to laughter. “Didn’t you just see him earlier today? What could you possibly have to say to him?”

That question stumped me. Of course, I didn’t have a back-up plan, or any real plan at al for that matter (if I did, I wouldn’t need to call lee, now would I?).

“His… sister, Jenny…” I said, running with a random idea. “I haven’t spoken to her in a long time. I want to call her.”

“Um… okay,” said my mother, still suspicious. “Don’t be too long; your dinner will be ready soon.”

I dialed the number.

“Hello?” It was one of the Sooplex boys, though I could not tell which.

“Hi, Jenny,” I said, for my mother was still in the room. “It’s Monica. How are things?”

“Monica, are you feeling okay?” he asked. “It’s Lee.”

“Oh, yes, I heard,” I said, walking upstairs and into my bedroom. “Elp-hay ee-may,” I said, using pig Latin in case my mother had become suspicious enough to eavesdrop.

“Why are you using pig Latin? I got to say, though, you’ve got it down pretty good.”

“Oh, really?” I asked, already irritable without Lee’s dimwittedness. “Then what did I just say?”

“Elp-hay ee-may,” Lee repeated. “Oh!” he said, realization dawning on him. “What’s going on?”

“I - hold on a second.” I opened my door, peeked out it, made sure my mother was no where nearby, and decided it was safe to speak in English. “My parents are… hesitant… to send me back to Cabot’s.”

“Well, that’s dumb,” Lee said.

“What do you expect?” I asked. “Statistics show that only thirty-seven percent of adults say they can understand their teenage children.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said. “I meant that it’s dumb that you’re getting wimpy just because your folks are hesitant.”

I couldn’t understand or really even begin to fathom how Lee managed to make even the most threatening situations seem pathetic, and unworthy of his attention.

“I am not getting wimpy,” I said defiantly. “I was simply giving you notice ahead of time, so you wouldn’t be completely gob smacked if you don’t see me at Cabot’s next year.”

“Oh yeah?” he said. “Then what was up with that ’elp-hay ee-may’ crud?”

“I was… brushing up on my pig Latin.”

“Hmph. Fair enough, I s’pose. But why ’elp-hay ee-may’?”

“I just… wanted to make sure you remembered; I was testing you. Wanted to make sure you were staying up to speed. And I’ve got to admit you’ve slowed down a bit.”

I honestly couldn’t say where these words were coming from, or why exactly they were sounding from my mouth, but it didn’t particularly matter to me at the moment; I was rambling. I was a proud girl (in fact, too proud to admit I was), and if someone called me wimpy, you could bet I was going to keep rambling until they changed their mind (or else I would keep quiet and ignore them, but I seemed to use the rambling technique quite frequently around Lee and Nick).

“I- what?” he said. “Never mind, never mind; I have to go. Keep in touch. Bye.”

I hung up the phone. Well, he was helpful… Not!

“Monica, it’s time for dinner!” my mother called.

I walked back downstairs and put the phone back in the carriage, feeling that I had just wasted my time.

I washed my hands and came into the kitchen, where there was a horribly, though vaguely, familiar sight: my mother was sitting at the dinner table.

It would have been different if she had been eating dinner too, but she had eaten at the restaurant, as usual. The last time I had seen this, I had just come home from that party at the elementary school, and was sentenced to groom Sparkle because I had been disrespectful to Aunt Julie.

The only thing that was different between this time and the previous was that my father was also seated at the table.

I sat down before a plate of restaurant leftovers. As I ate, I was very aware of their eyes on me. It was as though I was of some new species (this analogy reminded me of my first few days at Cabot’s) and my parents were scientists, monitoring my eating habits.

“What’s the topic for today?” I asked when I had cleared my plate.

“Cabot’s,” my mother replied shortly.

“Oh.” Of course, I already knew that. Suddenly, I felt the need for a professional lawyer to plead my case.

“We heard Dan got a letter from Cabot’s.” My father looked at me kindly for the first time I could remember.

“Yeah, he did,” I said, wondering why they were beating around the bush instead of just spitting it out. “What about it?”

“Well, your dad and I were thinking…” my mother said, again saying “your dad” in that odd way. I was in the middle of a large mental argument with myself about whether or not it was okay to ask about it, when I was interrupted.

“We want you to be happy,” my father said.

“Of course we do,” my mother agreed.

“Are you happy at Cabot’s?”

“Yes,” I said, unable to believe they were possibly giving me the chance to negotiate with them. “More than I’ve ever been here in Alabama.”

Judging by the looks my parents were giving each other, they took my hint.

“But we also want you to be responsible,” said my mother.

“Very responsible,” my father agreed.

“We’re getting back to those detentions, aren’t we?” I asked.

Both my parents nodded.

“As you may recall, when you went to school here in Alabama, you never got detention,” said my mother.

“But that was to be expected since you were in elementary school,” said my father.

“But since you’ve been in Cabot’s you’ve had seven detentions,” said my mother.

“Eight,” I corrected, foolishly deciding that honesty was the best policy. “I got a detention once before that because I missed class.”

“But you never got detention when you went to school here,” said my mother.

“Quite frankly, you’ve stumped us, Monica,” said my father. “Why? What made the difference? What can we do to assure it doesn’t happen again?”

I was so glad that my father was in a negotiating mood. But the truth was, I probably would get detention again, what with having Lee and Nick for best friends.

“You know, Dan has missed you a lot while you were at Cabot’s,” said my mother. “And I’m sure you missed him too.”

I hoped my mother was not taking this conversation where I knew she was.

“What if Dan came to Cabot’s this year?” she asked.

I didn’t know what to say. I saw this coming, but even so, I was speechless. After all, what could I say? ‘No, Mother, that’s a bad idea’?

“Uncle Samuel’s willing to pay his tuition,” said my father.

My father must have fought hard for me to stay at Cabot’s (I wasn’t sure why, but I was thankful), for he despised Dan above all else, and he was willing to send him with me to New York.

“Well, I think that sounds like a fair compromise,” said my father. “You want to return to Cabot’s, and we want to see you detention-free for the rest of your academic life. I find that if Dan enrolls in Cabot’s, both sides will be satisfied.”

“Is it agreed then?” my mother asked.

I sighed. When Dan treated me like his little sister, when he was like a father I never had, it had been a wonderful feeling.

But I never had friends with The Boss at my side.

And what a wonderful feeling it was to have friends! Lee and Nick were great.

So the question remained thus: was I willing to put up with Dan, whom I no longer needed, in order to maintain my friendships at Cabot’s School for the Talented and Bright?

And my answer, first a downright no, became an absolute yes.

I nodded. “Yeah, I - I agree.”

That was the hardest decision anyone in the world could have possibly made. Or at least, that’s how I felt at the time. I was very overdramatic, but kept it to myself, unwilling to make a scene.

My parents called Uncle Samuel, who brought Dan over (again) to talk about Cabot’s. Apparently, Uncle Samuel was already sold on the idea and was simply waiting for my parents’ okay.

When they arrived, I stood on one side of the room, silent, arms crossed, and Dan stood likewise on the other side of the room.

Finally, Dan spoke up. “I don’t want to go to Cabot’s.”

“You don’t?” said Uncle Samuel. “It’s all you could talk about this morning. Oh, and it would’ve made Rosie so proud too. You could be recognized for that vocal talent that’s in your blood. What made you change your mind?”

This is it, I told myself. Dan’s going to tell everyone that I don’t want him at Cabot’s, and I’m going to have a lot of explaining to do!

But Dan surprised me (though I shouldn’t have been surprised by this).

“Have you seen the dorky uniforms?” he exploded. “No offense, Monica; I ain’t got nothin’ against the girls’ attire. The guys’ are so lame though. The suit jacket totally hides my guns! And the shorts are so dorky…”

I tried to look disappointed, but failed, and smiled brightly.

“Oh, well, if Dan doesn’t want to come, I guess he doesn’t have to…”

“The only way you’re going to Cabot’s is if Dan comes with you.”

My smile faded. I gave Dan a pleading look, and with a jolt of helplessness, I relied on Dan again.

“Well, I guess I can hide my guns for Monica,” he said.

Uncle Samuel took Dan home, and I went to my room to go to sleep. But my mind couldn’t - or rather, wouldn’t - rest. I reminisced my entire year at Cabot’s; it was like my entire life flashing before my eyes, for it seemed that my life had never truly began before I walked through the doors of Cabot’s School for the Talented and Bright.CHAPTER ___

“Rise n’ shine!”

I opened my eyes, but didn’t move. The bed in Uncle Samuel’s guest bedroom was very comfortable, and this, I told myself, was the reason I stayed put. But I knew it really had more to do with the fact that, for the first time in my life, I didn’t want to go to school today.

I was really looking forward to seeing Lee and Nick again, but the whole aspect of Dan being there made it awkward. Even more strange was that Dan was excited about his least favorite thing: school. It was a day of firsts.

“Come on! Get up!” Dan said. “You’re going to make us late!” He laughed. “I have waited a year to say that, you know! Whoo!”

I sat up in my bed. “Dan, you know, this isn’t like before. I actually know people at Cabot’s, so you can’t call me ‘Girl’ while we’re there.”

“Fine,” said Dan. “I guess I owe you that.”

I couldn’t understand why Dan always thought he owed me something. But it didn’t matter today. All that I cared about was being relieved that I could keep my name.

I got out of bed, packed my suitcase, and put on my uniform. Dan was right; the uniforms were very not him. They made him look less like a carefree, sweat-drenched, athletic bodyguard, and more like a scholar. He actually was more scholarly this year because he studied all Summer (when he wasn’t with The Guyz or Natasha and her friends, a.k.a. The Chicks) so he wouldn’t flunk out of Cabot;s.

Uncle Samuel drove us to the airport, where Dan convinced him that he needn’t accompany us on the plane to New York.

As we boarded the plan, I recall mentally associating the word “giddy” with Dan, something that no one in recorded or unrecorded history had been able to do.

“So, give me a brief review of the teachers at Cabot’s,” Dan said after the plane took off. On my first flight to New York, I had slept the whole way, but Dan wasn’t tired, he was excited.

“Miss Macintosh teaches Math. She’s really strict, so no nonsense in the classroom. Mr. Finklebury teaches Vocabulary, but he’s cool; listen to him, and you’ll manage. Miss Hukra teaches… girls’ gym; I don’t know who teaches guys’ gym, you’ll have to ask Lee and Nick - no, I’ll ask them. Mr. Sankter’s a nudnik, and his son, Duke, is in my class. Let’s just say the apple - well, actually Duke’s more like an acorn - doesn’t fall far from the tree. Oh, and then there’s Mr. Kendrin. He either has imaginary friend or a double personality; no one really knows.”

“Sounds like I’ve got an interesting year ahead of me,” said Dan.

We talked (or rather, Dan asked an endless amount of questions, and I answered them) the whole way to New York. We took a taxi cab, and before I knew it, I was back at my beloved Cabot’s.

Dan went straight into the office to fill out the rest of his paperwork and such, and I stood outside, fulfilling my promise to wait for him.

“Hey, Monica!”

And there was Lee and Nick, speed walking toward me.

“Your parents got over their ‘hesitant’ phase?” Lee asked.

“Uh…yeah.” I decided that, for the time being, I didn’t need to bring Dan into the Lee-Monica-Nick triangle. After all, if I’d added Dan to the triangle, it’d be so… square.

The lull didn’t last very long. I broke the lull, actually, when I noticed that Nick was looking really glum.

“Something wrong, Nick?” I asked.

Lee gave me a “you’re-so-insensitive” look, and it occurred to me that I should have been reading the Teen Sports Magazine (that Nick was frequently published in) over the Summer.

“Never mind,” I said, and tried to find a change of subject.

Enter subject change stage right!

Dan came out of the office and over to us, putting his hand on my right shoulder.

Lee and Nick smirked, and then broke out into snickers.

I shrugged Dan’s hand off my shoulder.

“Who’s your friend?” Nick asked.

“You’re Nick Porker!” Dan blurted, reminding me of my first encounter with Nick.

“Apparently, one of your fans, Nick,” said Lee..

“Not one of the loyal ones,” said Nick, glum again. “If he was, he’d know I’ve been replaced.”

“Oh, Nick, I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know.”

“So, the dorms are… where?” Dan asked.

“How’d he get into Cabot’s?” Lee whispered. “Who could be here four years and not know where the dorms are?”

“This is my first year here, Lee,” Dan replied, having heard Lee with his keen sense of hearing. “I’m Monica’s-”

“-friend,” I finished. “We know each other from school He’s here for his vocal talent.”

Lee and Nick exchanged skeptical looks. The conversation was over for now, but I would meet it again soon.

We helped Dan find his dorm, and then we set off for ours.

“Do we have the same roommates as last year, then?” I asked as we came into their dormitory.

“Looks like it,” said Lee, checking a paper tacked to the door.

“Great,” I said, not at all looking forward to bunking with Ophelia.

“So…” said Nick, walking into their empty dormitory. “How come ‘Mr. Friend-From-Your-School-In-Alabama’ is just now coming to Cabot’s?”

“You know. Mr. Tough Guy,” said Lee. “If he has all this amazing vocal talent, then how come he wasn’t here last year?”

“I get it!” said Nick. “He wanted his girlfriend to check out the school first.”

I crossed my arms and scowled. Why did that ridiculous misconception about Dan and me seem to follow me everywhere? “Come to think of it, I should probably go unpack my things in my dorm.” I turned to leave.

It took them all of last year to grasp the concept, but today their nailed it. Today they tried to stop me.

“Come on, Monica,” said Nick. “We were just teasing, you know.”

I turned back toward them. “Very well. If you must know, he’s my cousin. His voice is so brilliant, Cabot’s contacted him. End of story.”

“Hey, Cabot’s contacted me, you know,” said Nick. “And they won’t even put me on their basketball team!”

I rolled my eyes. “Point taken, Nick. But even though he’s my cousin, I want you both to pay him as little attention as possible, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Lee. “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” I said. “I’ll see you all in a bit. I’m going to go unpack.”

“Knock yourself out,” said Lee.

I found my dorm rather easily and unpacked my things. This time, however, I didn’t give in to Ophelia. I ignored her three dozen complaints and unpacked my things my way. I felt that I finally understood the meaning of freedom (momentarily forgetting Dan).

The next morning, I went down to the cafeteria, and got in line with Lee and Nick. When we got our food, we also got our class schedules.

“What the heck?” Lee exploded as we sat down with our breakfast.

“Something wrong?” I asked, breaking a piece off of my turkey bacon.

“Yeah!” said Lee. “We’ve got seven classes this year!”

“So?” I asked. “It’s only two more than last year.”

“Lee’s right, Monica, this is crazy,” said Nick.

“Not really,” I said. “Actually, I thought it was crazy when we went through all of last year without History or English. My guess is that we won’t have twenty-minute breaks between classes; that time will be devoted to class. Probably, they want to see how students react to having this dumped on them, and therefore know what the students are capable of. In order to be successful or famous, they have to be able to keep up with anything life throws at them.”

“What did you take, a psychology class?” Lee asked.

“Well, no,” I replied. “Why do you ask?”

“Because the staff are playing all these brain tricks on the students, but you see past every single one!”

“Does this surprise you?” Nick asked. “Monica’s a child genius.”

I sighed. “Oh great, there’s Dan.”

“Well, where’s he going to sit?” Lee asked.

“That group of girls is waving him over,” said Nick.

“No, they’re waving to the girl behind him,” I said.

“I don’t think there’s any room for him,” said Lee.

“Oh yes there is,” I said. The thought seemed to have occurred to Dan as well: the table of anti-social, random oddballs toward the back. Strangely enough, I had never noticed the table before. I guess Cabot’s had always been a paradise or a sanctuary to me, and I had never thought that there might be a Rejects’ Table here at my second home.

It was a moment of mixed emotions as Dan crossed over to the Rejects’ Table. At first, I felt sorry for him, and was about to offer him a seat at our table, but then I remembered all the suffering - all the time I spent at the Rejects’ Table - that he had thrust upon me. Dan was used to being “cool” - or at least, he thought he was - but now, not even Dan could muscle up enough self-confidence or self-importance to say he was cool.

I half-expected Lee or Nick to say something - laugh at Dan, scold me, anything! But they didn’t.

As we finished lunch, something occurred to me. “Are we in the same classes this year?”

“First I’ve got Science with Sankter,” said Lee. “Nick?”

“Yep. Monica?”

“Looking good,” I said “What’s your second class, Lee?”

“Gym with Wullis,” Lee replied. “Nick?”

“Uh-huh. Monica?”

“History with…” I checked my schedule. “Sindriff.”

“Third I have Math with Macintosh,” said Lee. “Nick?”

“Nope. English with Patin. Monica?”

“Math.”

“Fourth I’ve got English,” said Lee. “Nick?”

“Vocabulary with Finklebury. Monica?”

“Vocabulary for me too.”

“Fifth I’ve got Vocabulary,” said Lee. “Nick?”

“Math. Monica?”

“English.”

“Sixth I’m down for History,” said Lee. “Nick?”

“History. Monica?”

“Gym with Hukra.”

“That leaves us all with Kendrin’s Health last,” said Lee.

“Quiet, Mr. Soupless,” said Mr. Sankter. We had been discussing classes all the way to his class, forgetting that silence was enforced here.

Lee had learned his lesson last year about correcting Mr. Sankter about his last name. So, he remained silent.

“We’ll start with an aptitude rest to gauge your level,” said Mr. Sankter.

He passed the tests - which were five pages long each - out to the students.

The first page dealt with the Periodic Table of Elements. The second page dealt with ecosystems. The third page dealt with Earth Sciences, and the fourth page dealt with the human body. Page five covered basic chemistry.

Typically, I would just blaze through something like this, but today I took my time. If this test was going to gauge my level, my answers had to be 100% correct.

When the bell rang, I bade goodbye to Lee and Nick, and went to History class.

To my dismay, the only person in this class that I knew was Ophelia.

“Ah, fresh meat!” The teacher, Mr. Sindriff, a husky man with reddish-blond whiskers dotting his round face, licked his lips. “Let’s see what you all know. Everyone stand. Good, now I’m going to ask a question, and if you know the answer, you’ll put up your hand, but if you don’t, you’ll stand back and hang your head in shame. Okay?”

When we had thirty minutes left of class, many people had their heads hung in shame - and many of them had been in this position for some time. Only one person - besides me, of course - did not have her head hung.

I turned my head to get a good look at my opponent. She was skinny with long, strawberry blonde hair that cascaded down her back like a gentle waterfall.

And she stood there, her hand raised. But this time, mind wasn’t. As I took a step back and hung my head in shame, I decided I was happy that Lee and Nick weren’t in this class. I also decided that the girl - her name was Sheila - had become my rival, and I owed her my hatred.

“The ’S’ in Harry S. Truman stands for absolutely nothing,” Sheila recited.

“Now I can assign seats,” said Mr. Sindriff. “Sheila, you sit there,” he said, pointing at the left-most desk in the front row. “And Monica, you’ll sit behind here.”

I took my seat, and didn’t even bother to listen to the other assignments. This was the “Smart People Ron”, somehow I knew. But I wasn’t in the front, and I deserved to be. So what if she knew that President Truman didn’t have a proper middle name? That didn’t make her smarter.

Then I heard Nick’s voice in my head: “Monica’s a child genius!” It echoed painfully in my head. I was just second-best to Sheila.

For the remainder of class, we copied down Mr. Sindriff’s rules. At five minutes remaining, Sheila spilled her papers in the floor.

So, she’s not perfect! She’s a klutz!

Without thinking, I scooped up the papers and handed them back to her. I noticed one thing, though - and it occurred to me later on that maybe she wasn’t a klutz, but had dropped them on purpose - her handwriting was beautiful and neat, and I was horribly envious. There was nothing I had that she didn’t.

I met up with Lee at Math class, and lucky for me, Miss Macintosh never let people talk before, or during, her class.

“Let’s see what you remember from last year,” said Miss Macintosh, as she passed out papers to the class.

One look at the papers told me it was another aptitude test. It began with basic multiplication, then went into cross multiplication. From there, it went into division, through fractions and decimals, and ended in simple pre-algebra.

Math had always been one of my best (though not favorite) subjects, so I wet through the test rather quickly, but after what happened with Sheila in History class, I had to ace this thing.

When class was over, I bade goodbye to Lee, and met up with Nick for Vocabulary,

“So, how was History and Math?” Nick asked as we copied down definitions from the dictionary.

“Miss Macintosh is going to give you an aptitude test, not too unlike Mr. Sankter’s,” I replied. “It covers everything from multiplication to pre-algebra.”

“Great,” said Nick sarcastically.

“Actually, it wasn’t that difficult,” I said.

“No, not that,” he said. “I was so preoccupied listening to you that I wrote ’multiplication’ instead of ’bothersome’!”

“You’re still on ‘nudnik‘?” I asked, recalling the word ‘bothersome’ in nudnik’s definition.

“Some of us aren’t as fast-paced as you are,” said Nick.

“Right, sorry,” I said, passing him a bottle of correction fluid.

“Thanks,” he muttered. “What about History? How was Mr. Sindriff?”

“He’s not strict like Macintosh, but not totally lax like Finklebury. He doesn’t play favorites like Sankter either.”

“Oh, so he’s just a typical teacher?” asked Nick, sounding bored with the conversation. “That’s cool, I guess.”

“He assigns your seats based on intelligence,” I said sourly.

“I thought you’d like that,” said Nick. “Your brains would really be recognized.”

“What do you mean? Of course I like that,” I lied. “I’m ecstatic.”

Maybe Nick didn’t know me as well as Dan (if he did, he wouldn’t have believed me), but right now, I liked that, because I did not want to talk about Sheila.

After Vocabulary, I headed for English. I wasn’t exactly excited about it because (mostly due to Aunt Julie) I knew all my basic grammar. It’d just be another class I wouldn’t have to try at.

“Come on in and sit down,” said Miss Patin, a woman in her mid-twenties. She had short, dark blonde hair with highlights, and wore a blue floral skirt and a cream colored, three-quarter length sweater.

We all sat down, and Miss Patin smiled, revealing brilliantly white, straight teeth.

“How many of you like to read?” she asked.

I raised my hand, and so did a few other kids.

“I have a book that’s going to make you like to read,” said Miss Patin. And she held up one of my all-time favorite books: Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare.

“I don’t expect you all to know what this book is about, but-”

My hand shot up in the air, almost involuntarily.

“Yes, Miss-?”

“Ginger,” I answered. “The story is about a man and a girl who fall in love, but must keep it a secret because their families despise each other, and-”

“Thank you, Miss Ginger,” said Miss Patin. “I hope that that summary intrigued you all and made you want to read the story for yourself.”

While I had expected her to show us a short biography of William Shakespeare, Miss Patin gave us the rest of class to do as we pleased. I would have been more than willing to do my homework in this time, but as it was the first day, we had none, so I was bored,

As the other girl and boys turned to chat with their friends, Miss Patin turned to me.

“Miss Ginger?”

“Yes, Miss Patin?”

“What’s your first name?”

“Monica.”

“Well, Monica, this is my second year teaching at Cabot’s, and you’re the most impressive student I’ve had.”

This really inflated my ego, as there were students at Cabot’s who were several years older than me.

“And why were you so impressed by me?” I asked. Clearly, she hadn’t met Sheila yet.

“You summarized Romeo and Juliet!” said Miss Patin. “I had never so much as thought about Shakespeare before ninth grade.”

“I have a high reading level,” I said.

“I should say so!” said Miss Patin. “A twelve-year-old reading Shakespeare, now that’s unheard of!”

“Actually,” I said, trying not to brag, but wanting to Miss Patin to see me for what I was. “I read it several times before I ever came to Cabot’s.”

“Remarkable,” she muttered. “But if I were you, I’d read it again, just to refresh your memory.”

I nodded.

Next was gym. Unfortunately, Sheila had gym this period too; the last thing I wanted was to dress out for gym with Little Miss Perfect; it killed the self-esteem that Miss Patin had just built up for me.

Oh great, I thought. She’s probably an expert at all these feminine sports.

To my intense liking, we didn’t jump rope, or play badminton (though after last year, I at least knew how they were played); Miss Hukra decided we’d try our hannd at flag football.

Out of all the girls (including Sheila), I played flag football best, but I would much more like to play tackle football (how fun it would be to tackle Little Miss Perfect!).

I met up with Nick and Lee again for Health, where we read the first chapter from our textbook. Then, we went outside to the tree I’d sat on last year when Lee had allowed me to stay at his house for the first time. This, we decided, would be our new hang-out spot.

“So, how were your classes?” I asked.

“Same as yours, I expect,” said Nick.

“Do you two have to read that weirdo book too?” Lee asked.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “I’ve got Romeo and Juliet.”

“That’s exactly the weirdo book I was talking about!” said Lee.

“Yeah,” said Nick. “Looks lame.”

I sighed. “It really isn’t. I’ve read it before and I rather enjoyed it.”

“We’ve got to read the first scene for homework,” said Lee. “Monica, summarize.”

“Oh, just try to read it,” I pleaded. “If you don’t understand it, I’ll explain it, but I’m not doing all the work for you.”

“Fine,” said Lee.

And we discussed our teachers for the rest of the hour.

“Hey people!” called Dan’s voice as he approached us from the school.

“What’s taken you so long?” I asked. “You can’t have had any more classes than we did.”

“Private lesson,” Dan replied.

“In what?” Nick asked.

“Vocal, of course,” Dan replied. “Only teacher I’ve had all day, and he says I have real talent.”

“That’s real great, Dan,” I said. “Wait - did you say that was the only teacher you’ve had al day?”

Dan nodded. “Whoever Macintosh and Sankter are, I never met them.”

Lee, Nick, and I exchanged confused looks.

“Who taught Math then?” I asked. “And Science? English? Health?”

“We were either given a paper with an assignment on it or we had a computerized teacher. This school is very high-tech.”

A computerized teacher. The mere thought sent a shiver down my spine. It wasn’t natural. Call me old school, but I couldn’t see how that idea could possibly work.

“Yep,” said Dan. “Lectures and stuff are all on a disk, and there’s no human interaction whatsoever.”

“Cool,” said Lee and Nick in unison, as though the idea was absolutely inspired.

“Good luck passing your classed,” I said, as no one seemed to be willing to present the negative. “After all, this is Cabot’s School for the Talented and Bright. It’s not going to be as easy to pass as it was before.

“Chill, Girl - I mean, girl… named Monica.” Dan was so smooth, wasn’t he? “I’m gonna pass.”

Lee and Nick were looking at Dab like he was crazy, but I figured they’d get used to it, as I had.

“Well, I’m off to bed,” he said, and was gone.

“Your cousin… is strange,” said Nick.

“Yeah, well hopefully he’ll find his own friends in his own class, and we won’t have to put up with him much longer.” But my hopes were empty as the pages in my leather-bound book; the only friends Dan had (not counting his Tashy) were The Guyz, and the only thing he had in common with them was me.CHAPTER 19?

“So, there’s basketball try-outs tomorrow,” I said.

It was finally the weekend (Saturday, as the weekend of the first week begins a day late to confuse the new people), and the three of us were at our hang-out place (that tree, if you recall). We were in particularly good moods because we hadn’t seen Dan since the first day of class.

“I’m not trying out,” said Nick. He didn’t look glum, but rather had an expression on his face that gave me a feeling that he was up to something.

“What’s up?” Lee asked.

“Oh, nothing,” said Nick with a smirk.

And here I used the “mm-hmm-yeah-right” look that I had practiced on Dan for so long.

“Coach Wullis is going to wish he’d put me on the team last year.”

“Nick, revenge isn’t going to solve anything,” I said.

Hmm, I wonder how I could get revenge on Aunt Julie and Sheila…

“Maybe not,” said Lee. “But it’d feel good.”

“Who said anything about revenge?” Nick asked. “I’m not getting revenge, I’m just going to slack in his gym class.”

“Why?” Lee asked.

“Because!” said Nick. “Because, I used to be the hardest working kid in class, but you know what? No more. I’m going to make him think he lost his star pupil to someone really boring… like Sankter. That’s it! I’ll slack on Wullis and look obsessed with Sankter!”

“No!” I said flatly.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Nick asked.

“Yeah,” said Lee. “It sounds brilliant to me.”

“He can’t slack, he’ll fail!” I cried. “Does that mean nothing to you? Fail? Flunk? Expulsion!?”

“Expulsion?” Lee repeated. “Simmer down, Monica. He’s slacking, not… vandalizing.”

“I hope they expel me!” said Nick through gritted teeth, going from carelessness to rage in the blink of an eye.

“And you say I need to simmer down?” I asked Lee.

“So what if you’re not on the team?” Lee asked. “Don’t you think you’re being a tad overdramatic?”

“OVERDRAMATIC!?” Nick roared. “Me? Me, overdramatic? No… oh, no. You want to see overdramatic? Oh, I’ll show you overdramatic. This - this is overdramatic!”

He took a brochure out of the pocket of his tan Bermuda shorts and tossed it at Lee and me.

“Cool,” I said as I studied Nick’s picture on the cover on the cover of the Cabot’s brochure. “When was the photo shoot? Sorry I missed it.”

“Oh, it’s an old photo, Monica,” said Nick. “But that’s not the point. Look at how recent it is.”

I picked it up. It was this year’s brochure. It was bragging, “We have Nick Porker at our school!”,

“This is bad?” asked Lee.

“Well, yeah!” said Nick. “I was an icon!”

I’d known this was coming all along. Since last year. Since Nick first told us he hadn’t made the basketball team.

“Wait,” I said. “You said ‘was’ - past tense. You’re not their icon anymore?”

“Oh no,” Nick said. “That brochure came out two weeks before I was officially replaced. As soon as Cabot’s heard I was a has-been - bam! - I’m off that cover. Wouldn’t you know it?” He tossed out another brochure,

This brochure looked more professional, like the one I had gotten the previous year.

“This is bad?” I asked.

“Of course, Monica!” said Lee. “They were completely using him! And now that he’s off the team, it’s like they don’t need him anymore.”

“See, Monica?” said Nick. “There’s nothing left for me here without basketball. Without it, I’m just a louse, good-for-nothing, nobody.”

“Hey!” I said, my temper rising. “There is nothing wrong with being a nobody! I know you’re used to being famous, and getting all these perks, but that does not mean that I have to listen to you wallow in self-pity because you’re normal now! And just because you’re a nobody does not mean there’s nothing left for you in this world. So pull yourself together, be a man, and GET OVER IT!”

Lee and Nick just sort of stared at me after that explosion.

“Wow,” said Lee, in a tone that clearly stated that I was being insensitive. But how many times had they been insensitive to me? The way I saw it, I deserved to explode every once in a while. It wasn’t my first outburst, and it wouldn’t be my last.

Lee and Nick walked away, seemingly disgusted with me. Just as they left, it occurred to me that Lee was my ticked to a getaway for the weekend, and he was mad at me.CHAPTER ____

Neither Lee nor Nick spoke to me for the remainder of that day, and they both spent the “weekend” with Lee’s family. That left me alone at Cabot’s. Well, except for Dan, Sheila, and Ophelia, that is.

I decided I might as well visit Dan in his new dorm to see how he’d adjusted. Knowing the system in which dorms were arranged from the previous year, I located Dan’s dorm, and opened the door forgetting to knock. This earned me a couple of “do-you-mind-this-isn’t-your-dormitory” looks from nearly all of the boys in the room.

“You’re in the wrong hallway,” said one of them.

“Isn’t this Dan Ginger’s dormitory?” I asked.

“Who?” they all asked, exchanging looks with each other.

“Dan. Black hair. The arms of his suit jacket are bulging, like they’re going to rip at the seams?” I was beginning to get desperate with their ignorance. “The new guy? Doesn’t really fit in anywhere?”

Realization dawned upon their faces, and the boy who had spoken before said, “You just missed him.”

“Well, which way did he go?” I asked.

He pointed to his left, and I left their dorm, turning left. I ran off in that direction.

But how long could one run? Eventually, I got exhausted, and had to stop to catch my breath, leaning on a huge portrait of William Cabot/

I screamed, though I only fell a total of two feet. I was up there, now I’d down here… Where exactly is here?

And so I figured it was time to do me a bit of exploring. I walked down the hallway. There were doors left and right, so many I didn’t dare check them all. One said “vocal”, one said “dance”, another said “art”, and there were several others, but if I listed them all, I wouldn’t have room in his leather-bound book for the more important details of my life story.

Eventually, I went back to the two-foot trapdoor I’d fallen through. It had closed up, so how was I to get back? I had a feeling that, if I was caught here, I wouldn’t be too welcome. So, obviously, I had to find out how to work the trapdoor from below (after all, I’m supposed to be Miss Genius Girl; I should be able to get myself up from a too-foot hole).

For a moment, I just fumbled around, totally lost and completely clueless. I found nothing on the walls that could activate a trapdoor. Then I used my brain, and looked up, where I saw the trapdoor, closed, but there was also a lever beside it.

Typical. I gave myself a mental slap in the head and made a mental note to read more mystery novels from the children’s section of the library.

I pulled the lever, hoping with every fiber of my being that it would open the trapdoor, for I could think of no other way out.

And voilà! The trapdoor opened.

I hoisted myself out of the hole. Within seconds of my arrival next to the portrait of William Cabot, the trapdoor snapped shut.

I sighed. Thanks to my little voyage to the… Secret Floor, I wasn’t going to find Dan. Wherever he’d gone, he was hidden from me all that day, for I didn’t want to search the whole school. So, my quest for Dan would have to wait for tomorrow.

But even though each day of that weekend I got up earlier and earlier to Dan’s dorm, I never managed to get there before he left. I was beginning to wonder if he was sleeping on the Secret Floor.

And then it hit me, that Monday morning, that I wasn’t going to see much of Dan anymore. This thought itself made me feel lonesome, but actually accepting it was depressing.

I suppose it was the loneliness eating at me that morning that eventually convinced me that I needed to make peace with Lee and Nick. Dan had seemingly abandoned me, and they were real friends, driven away by my rage.

I walked outside Cabot’s and waited for the orange minivan to pull up. I remembered from the many weekend I had spent at the Sooplexes’ home the time at which Mrs. Sooplex typically arriver at Cabot’s: five minutes ago.

Oh well, I said to myself. This is New York City. They’re probably in a traffic jam.

Hmph, said my skeptic conscience, taking on Dan’s voice as it had not done for so long. Do you know how many car accidents happen daily in New York?

It’s amazing how your conscience always keeps talking when you least want it to.

Has Mrs. Sooplex ever been late? my conscience went on. Your friends are probably history. Goners. And what was the last thing you said to them?

“GET OVER IT!” My own words echoed in my head, but now louder and more malicious than when originally spoken. My conscience laughed maniacally as he watched me sobbing on the curb, driven insane by the sound of my own voice.