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faces of the football team and sneers on the faces of the cheerleaders. Suddenly, the freshmen girls stopped on a dime. Spencer made the music go full blast. They changed formation, from two lines into a diamond shape, and then began to dance. Most of the girls looked painfully awkward. They were stiff and nervous, spinning at the wrong time, keeping their eyes on Spencer for cues. Spencer was different, and I could definitively tell that, yes, she was a good dancer. She confidently made her way through the routine, keeping eye contact with people watching her, even though her curls were swishing in her face. Her moves were simultaneously precise and sexy as hell. She was the star of this show. Ms. Bee reached out and grabbed Spencer by the arm. I had never seen her look so mad. A few people actually booed Ms. Bee for stopping the dance. Mostly guys, from the sound of it. Ms. Bee looked around the hallway, possibly for me. I moved my head so it was behind someone else's. I was that embarrassed, and I didn't want to get involved. The hallway got quiet, except for the music. Everyone was watching what was going to happen. I felt like I couldn't breathe. "These shirts are highly offensive, Spencer," Ms. Bee said. "Not to mention completely against school policy. You girls must change immediately." It was almost like slow motion, watching Spencer grin. I only saw it for a second, before her face got covered up. Because she took off her shirt, right there, in the middle of the hallway. Her bra was a pink gingham number, with a tiny rosette in the center, underwire working overtime to hoist and enhance a modest amount of cleavage. The grin returned, as a shirtless Spencer twisted the wad of material in her hands. "I'll turn it inside out, Ms. Bee," she said. "Problem solved." The hallway erupted again. It was pure energy, and the freshmen were drunk on it. The other girls grabbed at the hems of their shirts, too. But before anyone else could strip, Ms. Bee had their leader by the arm and dragged her down the hall. As Spencer passed me, she winked. CHAPTER ELEVEN "I honestly don't think it's going to rain," Autumn said, beaming her big smile up at the ominous sky, as if it could intimidate the storm clouds. "We just need to stay positive." "I'm positive this sucks."

    "Aren't you having any fun in there?" Autumn hid a smile by puckering her lips around the straw in her Coke. "I mean, you look awesome." I rolled my eyes, forgetting that Autumn couldn't see my face through the small square patch of mesh. "As if this morning's Rosstitute parade wasn't humiliating enough, now I'm entombed in the bowels of a stuffed-animal carcass. Oh, and don't forget that all of the local weather reports neglected to mention the monsoon clouds threatening to obliterate my bonfire. This truly is the very definition of awesome. Seriously. Look it up and you'll find a picture of me." Though the wind was steadily picking up, it was still hot and itchy inside Ross the Eagle. The oversize head smelled like the very bottom of a laundry basket, where the underwear that doesn't fit anymore, or the socks that have holes, stay unwashed for a long, long time. I felt like I was going to barf if I didn't get fresh air, so I tried to get my wings underneath the rim of the eagle head. Autumn pinched my beak. "You can't take your head off on the sidelines! Look at all the little kids around! Remember how freaked out I was after we saw headless Big Bird smoking a cigarette in the Sesame Place parking lot? You're lucky I'm even standing this close to you right now." "What's worse? That, or having Ross the Eagle die on the sidelines from heat stroke? Come on, Autumn. I'm so thirsty." She guided the straw of her Coke through the mesh. "Here. The game's almost over anyhow." Just as I sucked up some soda, the crowd behind us roared. Autumn turned away, taking the can with her but leaving the straw dangling out of my mouth. I spat it out. "Since when do you like football?" I