seemed like everyone knew them, and they knew just about everyone else. I suppose that’s what ‘popular’ means, and it shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. I could go a whole week without talking to anyone at school, sometimes anyone at all. Marci was the exact opposite, to a degree that I hadn’t even imagined was possible. It was a little annoying, but more than that it was exhausting. It was so much easier to be an outcast.
Mr Verner’s room was the same as always; I don’t think he’d put up any new posters since the 1990s, if that, which seemed weird for a Social Studies teacher. Shouldn’t he have been more on top of current events? The door was in the rear of the room, and Marci went straight to the far wall to claim the back corner seat. Rachel sat in front of her, so I hesitantly took the seat next to Marci on the back row. It’s hard to explain why I felt so strange. It wasn’t because Marci was popular or pretty, though she certainly was; it was more because I’d just never really hung out with anybody before. I felt like I was forgetting something; like I was supposed to do or say something and didn’t know what it was. I couldn’t think of anything, so I just sat down.
‘My next class is with Mr Coleman,’ said Marci. ‘Gag. Do you know how many times he’s tried to look down my shirt?’
‘So wear something else,’ said Rachel. ‘With a shirt like that on, I feel like I should be ogling you too.’
‘He’s a teacher,’ said Marci. ‘It’s completely disgusting.’
‘You should report him,’ I said, glancing at her chest and then looking quickly away. I’d given up my rules against girl-watching, but they were still so ingrained that I hadn’t even noticed her shirt yet – I’d been subconsciously avoiding it. It was a tight black tank top, the same colour as her hair, with a curly green leaf pattern that showed off her curves to perfection. She really was gorgeous . . .
And then I found myself thinking about Brooke. That’s the weirdest thing.
‘I almost did report him last year,’ Marci went on, ‘but when I got to the counsellor’s office he checked me out, too, so I gave up. Obviously I enjoy a little attention, but it amazes me how brazen some people are about it.’
Two more girls wandered into the room, talking and ignoring us. I looked at Marci, keeping my eyes firmly on her face; her eyes were the same green as the vines.
‘You shouldn’t just give up,’ I said. ‘We have a . . .’ I didn’t know what to say, or how to say it: we have a responsibility to stop people from doing bad things. Why was that so hard to say? Everyone I talked to was so complacent. Had people always been like this, and I was just noticing it now?
‘What do we have?’ asked Marci.
‘We have . . .’ Did they really want to talk about this? Most people didn’t care about any of the things I did, and I usually didn’t realise it until I’d already said something insulting, boring, or controversial. I looked around at the classroom. Think, John, I told myself. Find something to talk about. Talking is easy. People do it every day . I saw the two people who’d come in earlier, Kristen and Ashley, and I pointed at them. ‘We have our first two contestants,’ I said. ‘Do you think either of them will be the first ditcher of the day?’
Marci was looking at me out of the corner of her eyes, ignoring my question. What was she thinking?
Rachel laughed. ‘There’s no way Kristen goes first,’ she said. ‘Straight A students don’t ditch.’
‘They ditch all the time,’ said Marci. ‘I got straight As in ninth grade, if you’ll remember, and I ditched my math class about once a week.’ She grinned. ‘That’s a twenty per cent ditch rate.’
‘Kristen is not just any straight A student,’ argued Rachel. ‘She’s a straight A student taking every college credit class the school has, and she’s
Mr Verner’s room was the same as always; I don’t think he’d put up any new posters since the 1990s, if that, which seemed weird for a Social Studies teacher. Shouldn’t he have been more on top of current events? The door was in the rear of the room, and Marci went straight to the far wall to claim the back corner seat. Rachel sat in front of her, so I hesitantly took the seat next to Marci on the back row. It’s hard to explain why I felt so strange. It wasn’t because Marci was popular or pretty, though she certainly was; it was more because I’d just never really hung out with anybody before. I felt like I was forgetting something; like I was supposed to do or say something and didn’t know what it was. I couldn’t think of anything, so I just sat down.
‘My next class is with Mr Coleman,’ said Marci. ‘Gag. Do you know how many times he’s tried to look down my shirt?’
‘So wear something else,’ said Rachel. ‘With a shirt like that on, I feel like I should be ogling you too.’
‘He’s a teacher,’ said Marci. ‘It’s completely disgusting.’
‘You should report him,’ I said, glancing at her chest and then looking quickly away. I’d given up my rules against girl-watching, but they were still so ingrained that I hadn’t even noticed her shirt yet – I’d been subconsciously avoiding it. It was a tight black tank top, the same colour as her hair, with a curly green leaf pattern that showed off her curves to perfection. She really was gorgeous . . .
And then I found myself thinking about Brooke. That’s the weirdest thing.
‘I almost did report him last year,’ Marci went on, ‘but when I got to the counsellor’s office he checked me out, too, so I gave up. Obviously I enjoy a little attention, but it amazes me how brazen some people are about it.’
Two more girls wandered into the room, talking and ignoring us. I looked at Marci, keeping my eyes firmly on her face; her eyes were the same green as the vines.
‘You shouldn’t just give up,’ I said. ‘We have a . . .’ I didn’t know what to say, or how to say it: we have a responsibility to stop people from doing bad things. Why was that so hard to say? Everyone I talked to was so complacent. Had people always been like this, and I was just noticing it now?
‘What do we have?’ asked Marci.
‘We have . . .’ Did they really want to talk about this? Most people didn’t care about any of the things I did, and I usually didn’t realise it until I’d already said something insulting, boring, or controversial. I looked around at the classroom. Think, John, I told myself. Find something to talk about. Talking is easy. People do it every day . I saw the two people who’d come in earlier, Kristen and Ashley, and I pointed at them. ‘We have our first two contestants,’ I said. ‘Do you think either of them will be the first ditcher of the day?’
Marci was looking at me out of the corner of her eyes, ignoring my question. What was she thinking?
Rachel laughed. ‘There’s no way Kristen goes first,’ she said. ‘Straight A students don’t ditch.’
‘They ditch all the time,’ said Marci. ‘I got straight As in ninth grade, if you’ll remember, and I ditched my math class about once a week.’ She grinned. ‘That’s a twenty per cent ditch rate.’
‘Kristen is not just any straight A student,’ argued Rachel. ‘She’s a straight A student taking every college credit class the school has, and she’s
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