Chapter 45

HOW LOW CAN WE GO?

Oh, no,” Brainzilla breathes an hour later. Her face is pale, and her feet are doing their crazy stress dance beneath her desk.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

“I didn’t study,” she whispers. “I’m a little behind in the reading.” We’re in English class, and Ms. Olsson is handing out pop quizzes.

Ms. Olsson just looooooooves pop quizzes.

“How far behind?”

Brainzilla’s eyes flash at me. “I had to prep for my interview, Kooks.” Her voice is brittle, like a word might break off and land on her foot.

“It’s okay,” I say to Brainzilla. “It’s just one test.”

“You don’t understand,” she hisses, shaking her head at me. “You don’t know what it takes to get into a school like Yale.” Brainzilla mashes her lips together, and her breathing comes fast and shallow from her nose.

“You’ll do fine,” I say, trying to sound encouraging. “At least you haven’t fallen asleep, like Tebow. Wake up!” I lean forward to whisper in his ear. Tebow’s head is bowed, his eyes closed.

“Shh!” He opens one eye and glares at me with it, then snaps it closed again. His lips start to move, but I can’t hear what he’s saying.

“Stop that!” I hiss. “What are you doing? Silas Marner is coming to get you!” Ugh. Sorry to be a mini Hater, but I despise Silas Marner. If you’re a fan, please contact me via my Twitter handle @silassux and explain why this is great literature. Warning: I may use your answer on a pop quiz.

Tebow’s lips stop moving, and he opens his eyes just as Sheila McGuinness hands back the pile of quizzes. “As long as there are tests, there will be prayer in public schools,” he explains.

“Pray for me, too,” Brainzilla says. She doesn’t sound like she’s kidding.

“Done,” Tebow says, snapping his eyes shut and muttering to himself.

“Mr. Jemowicz!” Ms. Olsson shrieks. It takes me a minute to remember that Jemowicz is Tebow’s real last name. “This will be your first and last warning! I expect SILENCE!”

There’s something funny about hearing the word silence screamed at top volume, but I don’t dare laugh, because Ms. Olsson’s got her Crazy Teacher face on. I swear, that woman needs a ten-day observation period at St. Auggie’s way more than I ever did.

Here is the difference between Mrs. Rosewater and Ms. Olsson, which I didn’t even realize until Mrs. R. revealed that she’s an actual human being:

Mrs. Rosewater is strict.

Ms. Olsson is mean. She loves giving pop quizzes because she likes to see us squirm—and fail.

You know what they say: Misery loves company. I guess Ms. Olsson is as miserable as they come, because she loves to make us suffer.