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Authors: Megan McCafferty
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know that kid!"
"Who is he?" yelled Hy.
"He’s Pepe Le Pew!"
"Who?"
"Pepe. Pierre. This kid in my French class who has a crush on me."
Pepe must have stuffed his jumpsuit with about a dozen pillows. But fake fat aside, he was pure King. He did mock karate chops. He even had two burly "bodyguards" come out and throw a cape over him. The final touch? An announcement over the loudspeaker thatElvis had left the building.
I was so proud of him when he won.
I don’t know how I didn’t recognize him instantly. While a few hundred Wiggaz front like boyz and girlz in da hood, there are only twenty-five real black students at PHS. And there’s onlyone black kid in my French class who has a crush on me, for Christ’s sake. Maybe the reason I didn’t immediately recognize Pepe is because he’s such a gifted chameleon. I’ve been observing him lately. He’s one of the few kids at PHS who defies categorization. He wins the talent showand wrestling matches. He speaks English, French,and Ebonics. He hangs with Double-Asand Wiggaz, 404sand Dregs, Jocksand I.Q.s. I wish I felt as comfy withone clique as he seems to be with them all.
the seventeenth
Things are getting really weird.
Greg Mahoney was shot at a kegger last night. Greg is a Dreg–Hick hybrid, a burnout who blasts country music and decorates his pickup truck with a Confederate flag and anI’m A Piney, From My Head Down To My Heinie bumper sticker. (Translation: I’m proud to live off a dirt road in the middle of the woods.) Anyway, this wasn’t another tragic teenage rampage. No one had a gun. Greg found some loose bullets in his truck that, for reasons that remain unclear, he drunkenly decided to throw into the bonfire. The bullets exploded and shot up Greg’s ass.
I heard about it in homeroom from Sara, who just loves sharing gossip like this.
"Omigod! Only a total idiot would try to,quote make fuckin’ fireworksunquote ."
"That’s why he did it?"
"That’s what I heard."
"I bet there wasn’t any thinking involved at all," I said. "Greg did it because that’s what Dregs do. It’s his contribution to society."
Then I heard a voice say, "Excuse me, Miss Don’t-Get-High-and-Mighty …"
I didn’t have to look up to know who it was. And when I did look up and saw him zooming in on me from two rows over, I was proven right.
"What’syour contribution to society?" Marcus asked.
I giggled. Jesus Christ, that’s annoying.
"Omigod! Ugh. Mind your own fucking business," Sara said.
"Why don’tyou mind your own fucking business?" Marcus countered. "You weren’t at the party, were you?"
And that’s when our homeroom teacher, Rico Suave, got involved.
"What’s my rule about foul language in this room?"
"Well, if you’re going to bust me, bust her, too," he said, pointing at Sara. "She said ’fucking’ before I did."
Before Sara even had a chance to protest, Rico Suave said, "I didn’t hear her. I only heard you. Out."
"You’ve got to be kidding me," laughed Marcus.
"Out!"
It wasn’t fair. It really wasn’t fair.
Marcus didn’t take his eyes off me as he gathered his stuff to go down to the principal’s office. That’s when I realized that Sara and I hadn’t been talking that loud. Marcus had been listening to our conversation on purpose. And he wanted me to know it.
Why? He had pretty much ignored me since the office incident. And I had done my best to ignore him, too. I don’t know what he’s doing with me, but he definitely did it again. Now I can’t stop thinking about it.
the nineteenth
Sara and Manda undoubtedly killed time on their flight to Mexico today by (a) analyzing Marcus’s outburst and (b) hypothesizing about my role in it. I’m telling myself that there’s nothing I can do to stop this, so there’s no point in getting all hung up on it. I’m doing an okay-to-sucky job.
Only
"Who is he?" yelled Hy.
"He’s Pepe Le Pew!"
"Who?"
"Pepe. Pierre. This kid in my French class who has a crush on me."
Pepe must have stuffed his jumpsuit with about a dozen pillows. But fake fat aside, he was pure King. He did mock karate chops. He even had two burly "bodyguards" come out and throw a cape over him. The final touch? An announcement over the loudspeaker thatElvis had left the building.
I was so proud of him when he won.
I don’t know how I didn’t recognize him instantly. While a few hundred Wiggaz front like boyz and girlz in da hood, there are only twenty-five real black students at PHS. And there’s onlyone black kid in my French class who has a crush on me, for Christ’s sake. Maybe the reason I didn’t immediately recognize Pepe is because he’s such a gifted chameleon. I’ve been observing him lately. He’s one of the few kids at PHS who defies categorization. He wins the talent showand wrestling matches. He speaks English, French,and Ebonics. He hangs with Double-Asand Wiggaz, 404sand Dregs, Jocksand I.Q.s. I wish I felt as comfy withone clique as he seems to be with them all.
the seventeenth
Things are getting really weird.
Greg Mahoney was shot at a kegger last night. Greg is a Dreg–Hick hybrid, a burnout who blasts country music and decorates his pickup truck with a Confederate flag and anI’m A Piney, From My Head Down To My Heinie bumper sticker. (Translation: I’m proud to live off a dirt road in the middle of the woods.) Anyway, this wasn’t another tragic teenage rampage. No one had a gun. Greg found some loose bullets in his truck that, for reasons that remain unclear, he drunkenly decided to throw into the bonfire. The bullets exploded and shot up Greg’s ass.
I heard about it in homeroom from Sara, who just loves sharing gossip like this.
"Omigod! Only a total idiot would try to,quote make fuckin’ fireworksunquote ."
"That’s why he did it?"
"That’s what I heard."
"I bet there wasn’t any thinking involved at all," I said. "Greg did it because that’s what Dregs do. It’s his contribution to society."
Then I heard a voice say, "Excuse me, Miss Don’t-Get-High-and-Mighty …"
I didn’t have to look up to know who it was. And when I did look up and saw him zooming in on me from two rows over, I was proven right.
"What’syour contribution to society?" Marcus asked.
I giggled. Jesus Christ, that’s annoying.
"Omigod! Ugh. Mind your own fucking business," Sara said.
"Why don’tyou mind your own fucking business?" Marcus countered. "You weren’t at the party, were you?"
And that’s when our homeroom teacher, Rico Suave, got involved.
"What’s my rule about foul language in this room?"
"Well, if you’re going to bust me, bust her, too," he said, pointing at Sara. "She said ’fucking’ before I did."
Before Sara even had a chance to protest, Rico Suave said, "I didn’t hear her. I only heard you. Out."
"You’ve got to be kidding me," laughed Marcus.
"Out!"
It wasn’t fair. It really wasn’t fair.
Marcus didn’t take his eyes off me as he gathered his stuff to go down to the principal’s office. That’s when I realized that Sara and I hadn’t been talking that loud. Marcus had been listening to our conversation on purpose. And he wanted me to know it.
Why? He had pretty much ignored me since the office incident. And I had done my best to ignore him, too. I don’t know what he’s doing with me, but he definitely did it again. Now I can’t stop thinking about it.
the nineteenth
Sara and Manda undoubtedly killed time on their flight to Mexico today by (a) analyzing Marcus’s outburst and (b) hypothesizing about my role in it. I’m telling myself that there’s nothing I can do to stop this, so there’s no point in getting all hung up on it. I’m doing an okay-to-sucky job.
Only
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