for, like, twenty minutes.”
They were sitting at the kitchen table with an open notebook in front of Arthur, who was scribbling something in it.
“I didn’t feel well,” I said. “I left school early.” I didn’t want to talk about my day. It had been too strange.
Jeremy scrutinized me. “You don’t look sick,” she said.
“I feel better now.”
“Good. We’re furious,” Jeremy said. “Aren’t we furious, Arthur?”
“We are totally . . .” Arthur stopped writing for a moment and searched for the right word. “Furious.”
Arthur is the president of GWAB. She actually does look like a boy, and it’s not just because she has her hair cut short with tiny sideburns showing or because of the red polo shirt and chinos she always wears. She has a sort of heavy, bully-boy jaw. I think that makes the difference. Jeremy could cut her hair as short as Arthur’s, but she would just look like a girl with short hair.
“What happened?” I asked. “Oh, was it Shackly? I told you he wouldn’t go for the name thing.”
“He says we have to retake the test tomorrow, and if we don’t write our girl names on our tests, he’s going to mark them with Fs! And that test is 50 percent of our entire grade!” Jeremy said. She was all bright-eyed. It was partly from anger, I’m sure, but I think it was partly from pure joy. She loved stuff like this. Fighting for hopeless causes.
“He will fail you guys, you know,” I warned them.
“Let him.” Jeremy smiled. “Mr. Shackly is going to be in for a little surprise tomorrow.”
I looked at the two of them. Arthur was writing away in the notebook.
“What are you two doing?” I asked suspiciously.
“Oh, we’re just drafting an e-mail, that’s all,” Jeremy said. She jabbed Arthur in the ribs and Arthur snorted and nodded. “Yes, just a simple e-mail,” Jeremy continued. “Which Arthur is going to send to all the major television networks tonight. We think the news shows will be very interested to know about this situation.”
I sincerely doubted that, but I didn’t want to be the one to burst their bubble.
“Arthur will be our television spokesperson, of course,” Jeremy went on to explain. That was even more dubious, since Arthur generally never said more than a few words at a time. “We’re actually hoping that she gets on Good Morning America or David Letterman or something. That way Arthur will actually appear in her own collection.”
At the mention of this, Arthur looked up from her writing and smiled. It was a nice smile. By the way, Arthur nearly always wears the same clothes every day, even though everyone teases her about it. It’s because she won’t buy girls’ clothes and her mother refuses to shop in the boys’ department for her. So she is stuck with one boy outfit that another GWAB member gave her out of pity—the red polo shirt and chinos.
“What’s her collection?” I asked.
“Arthur collects Retro TV Magazines," Jeremy explained.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“They give the TV listings, just like TV Guide, ” Jeremy said, “but they pay the most attention to the retro shows. You know, plot summaries, trivia, stuff like that. Arthur’s had been collecting them since—how long, Arthur?”
“Since I was six.”
“Really?” I said. That was actually impressive.
Weird, but impressive.
I left them to their work, and went to my room and sat down heavily on the edge of my bed. I usually went right to work on Nemesis, but the day had taken a toll on me. I felt completely unmotivated. And it was all because of Mason Ragg. Who, I now reminded myself, would be eating my three Oreo cookies tomorrow unless I found a way to prevent it.
That got me to my feet.
I went to my desk, pulled out my yellow graph paper notebook and a mechanical pencil, and started to draw. At first it was really just crazy doodles—a huge guillotine hanging from the ceiling above my lunch sack, a dagger that shot out of my lunch sack the
They were sitting at the kitchen table with an open notebook in front of Arthur, who was scribbling something in it.
“I didn’t feel well,” I said. “I left school early.” I didn’t want to talk about my day. It had been too strange.
Jeremy scrutinized me. “You don’t look sick,” she said.
“I feel better now.”
“Good. We’re furious,” Jeremy said. “Aren’t we furious, Arthur?”
“We are totally . . .” Arthur stopped writing for a moment and searched for the right word. “Furious.”
Arthur is the president of GWAB. She actually does look like a boy, and it’s not just because she has her hair cut short with tiny sideburns showing or because of the red polo shirt and chinos she always wears. She has a sort of heavy, bully-boy jaw. I think that makes the difference. Jeremy could cut her hair as short as Arthur’s, but she would just look like a girl with short hair.
“What happened?” I asked. “Oh, was it Shackly? I told you he wouldn’t go for the name thing.”
“He says we have to retake the test tomorrow, and if we don’t write our girl names on our tests, he’s going to mark them with Fs! And that test is 50 percent of our entire grade!” Jeremy said. She was all bright-eyed. It was partly from anger, I’m sure, but I think it was partly from pure joy. She loved stuff like this. Fighting for hopeless causes.
“He will fail you guys, you know,” I warned them.
“Let him.” Jeremy smiled. “Mr. Shackly is going to be in for a little surprise tomorrow.”
I looked at the two of them. Arthur was writing away in the notebook.
“What are you two doing?” I asked suspiciously.
“Oh, we’re just drafting an e-mail, that’s all,” Jeremy said. She jabbed Arthur in the ribs and Arthur snorted and nodded. “Yes, just a simple e-mail,” Jeremy continued. “Which Arthur is going to send to all the major television networks tonight. We think the news shows will be very interested to know about this situation.”
I sincerely doubted that, but I didn’t want to be the one to burst their bubble.
“Arthur will be our television spokesperson, of course,” Jeremy went on to explain. That was even more dubious, since Arthur generally never said more than a few words at a time. “We’re actually hoping that she gets on Good Morning America or David Letterman or something. That way Arthur will actually appear in her own collection.”
At the mention of this, Arthur looked up from her writing and smiled. It was a nice smile. By the way, Arthur nearly always wears the same clothes every day, even though everyone teases her about it. It’s because she won’t buy girls’ clothes and her mother refuses to shop in the boys’ department for her. So she is stuck with one boy outfit that another GWAB member gave her out of pity—the red polo shirt and chinos.
“What’s her collection?” I asked.
“Arthur collects Retro TV Magazines," Jeremy explained.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“They give the TV listings, just like TV Guide, ” Jeremy said, “but they pay the most attention to the retro shows. You know, plot summaries, trivia, stuff like that. Arthur’s had been collecting them since—how long, Arthur?”
“Since I was six.”
“Really?” I said. That was actually impressive.
Weird, but impressive.
I left them to their work, and went to my room and sat down heavily on the edge of my bed. I usually went right to work on Nemesis, but the day had taken a toll on me. I felt completely unmotivated. And it was all because of Mason Ragg. Who, I now reminded myself, would be eating my three Oreo cookies tomorrow unless I found a way to prevent it.
That got me to my feet.
I went to my desk, pulled out my yellow graph paper notebook and a mechanical pencil, and started to draw. At first it was really just crazy doodles—a huge guillotine hanging from the ceiling above my lunch sack, a dagger that shot out of my lunch sack the
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