laughed. “Mr. Trillmane, seventh-grade English. He totally fought for getting not crappy books for us to read on the school list. Totally cool. He let me write three reports in poetry format because he knew I loved writing songs.” I smiled, remembering him. “He always said the only purpose the English language had was to communicate.”
Dad nodded, smiling. “Think about giving Mrs. Baird a second chance? She did end up coming through, and she's a fantastic teacher.” His eyes twinkled. “In my opinion, that is.”
“Why would I?”
He smiled again. “Because first of all, it might not be worth hurting yourself to hurt her, and second of all, I'd like to sit in the audience and say, ‘That's my daughter up there.’ Then I'd like to stand up and clap like a big goofball. Like in the movies.”
My breath caught, and I exhaled, all the fire gone from our debate. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Here I was all pissed off and enjoying our argument, and now it's gone. It's not fair. We're supposed to not talk to each other for three days now.”
He shrugged. “Sorry.”
I stood there for a moment, holding my plate, and he turned his eyes away uncomfortably. “I'll think about it.”
He shifted, staring at the TV. “Night.”
Chapter Eight
Two days later, I found out the names of the guys who made Velveeta eat the paper. Ron Jameson and Colby Morris. Colby Morris was the guy in third-period current affairs that Velveeta avoided the first day. Colby Morris, asshole of the year. He gave me a hard stare when I walked into class, finally realizing I'd been the girl in the lot. I flipped him off.
Theo walked with me after the hour was up, and I asked him about Colby. He smiled. “Our resident god. You might have to wear sunglasses around him. The halo gets bright. Especially after a win.”
“A win?”
“Football, my little innocent. He's the star receiver. He caught for five billion yards last year and attained the ‘most likely to live in the past when you're thirty years old award.’ You know, one of those guys sitting on a barstool talking about the halcyon days of glory back in high school.”
“Oh.” I wasn't about to mention what happened to Velveeta.
Theo wore an Iron Maiden T-shirt today, and he looked cute. He slid me a glance. “Why? Got a crush on him?”
“Hardly. Just wondering.”
He laughed. “Whatever.”
“What if I do have a crush on him?”
He shook his head. “Then you have a nice way of showing it. I saw you give him the finger.”
We walked.
“Something happen to make you give him the bird?”
“No.”
“Awesome. I love people that randomly flip off strangers.”
“Not to me. Someone else.”
He sighed. “Velveeta.”
“How'd you know?”
“There's nothing not to know. Colby Morris makes a sport of it.”
“A sport of picking on him?”
He nodded. “Ever since he got here last year, some of the guys saw some fun in him. The kid is a magnet for that kind of shit.”
“The whole school is in on it?”
He smiled. “Yeah, but Colby is the main one. And the vacant lot is the gossip of the day. The paper thing. Velveeta's the school entertainment.”
I frowned. “I was starting to like you.”
“What did I do?”
“You think it's funny.”
“No, I think it's pitiful, but look at the guy, Poe. He aches for those guys to walk all over him, and Colby Morris is a natural at things like that. At least now. He used to be cool.”
“And you just sit there and laugh.”
“No, I don't. But you can't stop it. God, some weeks it happens every day.”
“Yeah, but I don't have to like it.”
He smirked. “Well, then, maybe you could borrow some halo polish from Colby, Mother Teresa.”
“That's totally uncool, Theo. You don't have to sit there and gloat.”
He smiled. “Take a breath. I don't like it either, but what am I supposed to do? Talk to Mr. Halvorson about it? Have a sit-in for anti-harassment? Jesus, Poe, this place was like
Dad nodded, smiling. “Think about giving Mrs. Baird a second chance? She did end up coming through, and she's a fantastic teacher.” His eyes twinkled. “In my opinion, that is.”
“Why would I?”
He smiled again. “Because first of all, it might not be worth hurting yourself to hurt her, and second of all, I'd like to sit in the audience and say, ‘That's my daughter up there.’ Then I'd like to stand up and clap like a big goofball. Like in the movies.”
My breath caught, and I exhaled, all the fire gone from our debate. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Here I was all pissed off and enjoying our argument, and now it's gone. It's not fair. We're supposed to not talk to each other for three days now.”
He shrugged. “Sorry.”
I stood there for a moment, holding my plate, and he turned his eyes away uncomfortably. “I'll think about it.”
He shifted, staring at the TV. “Night.”
Chapter Eight
Two days later, I found out the names of the guys who made Velveeta eat the paper. Ron Jameson and Colby Morris. Colby Morris was the guy in third-period current affairs that Velveeta avoided the first day. Colby Morris, asshole of the year. He gave me a hard stare when I walked into class, finally realizing I'd been the girl in the lot. I flipped him off.
Theo walked with me after the hour was up, and I asked him about Colby. He smiled. “Our resident god. You might have to wear sunglasses around him. The halo gets bright. Especially after a win.”
“A win?”
“Football, my little innocent. He's the star receiver. He caught for five billion yards last year and attained the ‘most likely to live in the past when you're thirty years old award.’ You know, one of those guys sitting on a barstool talking about the halcyon days of glory back in high school.”
“Oh.” I wasn't about to mention what happened to Velveeta.
Theo wore an Iron Maiden T-shirt today, and he looked cute. He slid me a glance. “Why? Got a crush on him?”
“Hardly. Just wondering.”
He laughed. “Whatever.”
“What if I do have a crush on him?”
He shook his head. “Then you have a nice way of showing it. I saw you give him the finger.”
We walked.
“Something happen to make you give him the bird?”
“No.”
“Awesome. I love people that randomly flip off strangers.”
“Not to me. Someone else.”
He sighed. “Velveeta.”
“How'd you know?”
“There's nothing not to know. Colby Morris makes a sport of it.”
“A sport of picking on him?”
He nodded. “Ever since he got here last year, some of the guys saw some fun in him. The kid is a magnet for that kind of shit.”
“The whole school is in on it?”
He smiled. “Yeah, but Colby is the main one. And the vacant lot is the gossip of the day. The paper thing. Velveeta's the school entertainment.”
I frowned. “I was starting to like you.”
“What did I do?”
“You think it's funny.”
“No, I think it's pitiful, but look at the guy, Poe. He aches for those guys to walk all over him, and Colby Morris is a natural at things like that. At least now. He used to be cool.”
“And you just sit there and laugh.”
“No, I don't. But you can't stop it. God, some weeks it happens every day.”
“Yeah, but I don't have to like it.”
He smirked. “Well, then, maybe you could borrow some halo polish from Colby, Mother Teresa.”
“That's totally uncool, Theo. You don't have to sit there and gloat.”
He smiled. “Take a breath. I don't like it either, but what am I supposed to do? Talk to Mr. Halvorson about it? Have a sit-in for anti-harassment? Jesus, Poe, this place was like
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