inquisitively.
“My parents are safe and sound in Germany,” I told her.
“I’m glad to hear it. Let’s go make good on their investment with a couple hours of homework.”
The invitation wasn’t exactly thrilling, but it’s not like we had another choice. Study hall was mandatory, after all.
Study hall took place in the Great Hall, the big room with all the tables where I’d first gotten a glimpse of the plaid army. They were in full attendance tonight, nearly two hundred girls in navy plaid filling fifty-odd four-person tables. We headed through the rows toward a couple of empty seats near the main aisle, which would give us a view of the comings and goings of St. Sophia’s finest. They also gave the plaid army a look at us, and look they did, the thwack-thwack of my flip-flops on the limestone floor drawing everyone’s attention my way.
That attention included the pair of stern-looking women in thick-soled black shoes and horn- rimmed glasses. Their squarish figures tucked into black shirts and sweaters, they patrolled the perimeter of the room, clipboards in hand.
“Who are they?” I whispered, as we took seats opposite each other.
Scout glanced up as she pulled notebooks and books from her bag. “The dragon ladies. They monitor lights-out, watch us while we study, and generally make sure that nothing fun occurs on their watch.”
“Awesome,” I said, flipping open my trig book. “I’m a fun hater myself.”
“I figured,” Scout said without looking up, pen scurrying across a page of her notebook. “You had the look.”
One of the roaming dragon ladies walked by our table, her gaze over her glasses and an eyebrow arched at our whispering as she passed. I mouthed, “Sorry,” but she scribbled on her clipboard before walking away.
Scout bit back a smile. “Please quit disturbing the entire school, Parker, jeez.”
I stuck out my tongue at her, but started my homework.
We worked for an hour before she stretched in her chair, then dropped her chin onto her hand. “I’m bored.”
I rubbed my eyes, which were blurring over the tiny print in our European history book. “Do you want me to juggle?”
“You can juggle?”
“Well, not yet . But there’re books everywhere in here,” I pointed out. “There’s gotta be a how-to guide somewhere on those shelves.”
The girl who sat beside me at the table cleared her throat, her gaze still on the books in front of her. “Really trying to do some work here, ladies. Go play Gilmore Girls somewhere else.”
The girl was pretty in a supermodel kind of way—in a French way, if that made sense. Long dark hair, big eyes, wide mouth—and she played irritated pretty well, one perfect eyebrow arched in irritation over brown eyes.
“Collette, Collette,” Scout said, pointing her own pencil at the girl, then at me. “Don’t be bossy. Our new friend Parker, here, will think you’re one of the brat pack.”
Collette snorted, then slid a glance my way. “As if, Green. I assume you’re Parker?”
“Last time I checked,” I agreed.
“Then don’t make me give you more credit than you deserve, Parker. Some of us take our academic achievements very seriously. If I’m not valedictorian next year, I might not get into Yale. And if I don’t get into Yale, I’m going to have a breakdown of monumental proportions. So you and your friend go play clever somewhere else, alrighty? Alrighty,” she said with a bob of her head, then turned back to her books.
“She’s really smart,” Scout said apologetically. “Unfortunately, that hasn’t done much for her personality.”
Collette flipped a page of her book. “I’m still here.” “ Gilmore Girls ,” Scout repeated, then made a sarcastic sound. Apparently done with studying, she glanced carefully around, then pulled a comic book from her bag. She paused to ensure the coast was clear, then sandwiched the comic between the pages of her trig book.
I arched an eyebrow at the move, but she
“My parents are safe and sound in Germany,” I told her.
“I’m glad to hear it. Let’s go make good on their investment with a couple hours of homework.”
The invitation wasn’t exactly thrilling, but it’s not like we had another choice. Study hall was mandatory, after all.
Study hall took place in the Great Hall, the big room with all the tables where I’d first gotten a glimpse of the plaid army. They were in full attendance tonight, nearly two hundred girls in navy plaid filling fifty-odd four-person tables. We headed through the rows toward a couple of empty seats near the main aisle, which would give us a view of the comings and goings of St. Sophia’s finest. They also gave the plaid army a look at us, and look they did, the thwack-thwack of my flip-flops on the limestone floor drawing everyone’s attention my way.
That attention included the pair of stern-looking women in thick-soled black shoes and horn- rimmed glasses. Their squarish figures tucked into black shirts and sweaters, they patrolled the perimeter of the room, clipboards in hand.
“Who are they?” I whispered, as we took seats opposite each other.
Scout glanced up as she pulled notebooks and books from her bag. “The dragon ladies. They monitor lights-out, watch us while we study, and generally make sure that nothing fun occurs on their watch.”
“Awesome,” I said, flipping open my trig book. “I’m a fun hater myself.”
“I figured,” Scout said without looking up, pen scurrying across a page of her notebook. “You had the look.”
One of the roaming dragon ladies walked by our table, her gaze over her glasses and an eyebrow arched at our whispering as she passed. I mouthed, “Sorry,” but she scribbled on her clipboard before walking away.
Scout bit back a smile. “Please quit disturbing the entire school, Parker, jeez.”
I stuck out my tongue at her, but started my homework.
We worked for an hour before she stretched in her chair, then dropped her chin onto her hand. “I’m bored.”
I rubbed my eyes, which were blurring over the tiny print in our European history book. “Do you want me to juggle?”
“You can juggle?”
“Well, not yet . But there’re books everywhere in here,” I pointed out. “There’s gotta be a how-to guide somewhere on those shelves.”
The girl who sat beside me at the table cleared her throat, her gaze still on the books in front of her. “Really trying to do some work here, ladies. Go play Gilmore Girls somewhere else.”
The girl was pretty in a supermodel kind of way—in a French way, if that made sense. Long dark hair, big eyes, wide mouth—and she played irritated pretty well, one perfect eyebrow arched in irritation over brown eyes.
“Collette, Collette,” Scout said, pointing her own pencil at the girl, then at me. “Don’t be bossy. Our new friend Parker, here, will think you’re one of the brat pack.”
Collette snorted, then slid a glance my way. “As if, Green. I assume you’re Parker?”
“Last time I checked,” I agreed.
“Then don’t make me give you more credit than you deserve, Parker. Some of us take our academic achievements very seriously. If I’m not valedictorian next year, I might not get into Yale. And if I don’t get into Yale, I’m going to have a breakdown of monumental proportions. So you and your friend go play clever somewhere else, alrighty? Alrighty,” she said with a bob of her head, then turned back to her books.
“She’s really smart,” Scout said apologetically. “Unfortunately, that hasn’t done much for her personality.”
Collette flipped a page of her book. “I’m still here.” “ Gilmore Girls ,” Scout repeated, then made a sarcastic sound. Apparently done with studying, she glanced carefully around, then pulled a comic book from her bag. She paused to ensure the coast was clear, then sandwiched the comic between the pages of her trig book.
I arched an eyebrow at the move, but she
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