“Shut up, slut,” Stoors snaps. “Or I’ll have someone else claw your eyes out.”

The memory of Jenna’s attack flashes through my mind, and I see Brainzilla flinch. We aren’t the only ones remembering the fight—I have to dive in front of Flatso, who had just barreled toward the Haters with—I believe—foul intentions.

“Don’t even think of threatening her!” Tebow shouts, and Bloom says, “Why don’t you try to stop me?” and I’m thinking that stuff is about to get seriously out of hand when Winnie Quinn appears and demands, “What’s going on here?”

In the silence that follows, I realize how crowded and still the parking lot is. Nobody is getting in a car to leave. Everyone is just watching us, as stationary as the lamppost beside me.

Winnie eyes the torn flyer in Bloom’s hand. “Did you take that down? Why would you do that?”

Bloom’s only response is a sneer, but it bounces off Winnie like bullets off Superman’s chest.

“These people,” Winnie says, pointing at us—well, really, at me, “are just trying to do something positive. If you don’t want to do it, fine. You don’t have to. But you don’t have to ruin things for everyone else, either.” He turns to face the gawkers. “And why don’t any of you speak up?”

Nobody says anything, which seems to irritate Winnie even more. “God! I’m so sick of stupid bullies ruining everything!” He points at Bloom. “You don’t get to decide what everyone else does! Now, apologize!”

Bloom crosses his arms and smirks. “Or what? You can’t really believe you have any kind of authority in this place. You’re just another weirdo like the rest of them—no idea how to just be normal.”

Winnie looks like he’s been punched. But just as I think he’s about to back off, he gets right in Bloom’s face.

“I’d rather be like the rest of them than some spoiled rich kid who pretends he’s happy but never gets enough attention from Daddy and doesn’t have any real friends because they’re all just using him for his money. I’d rather be one of these kids any day. In fact, I am one of these kids! Now. Apologize!”

And to my shock, Bloom’s face has gone pale. He mutters something that might or might not be an apology, but either way, he takes off, and Stoors follows. Then Winnie stomps to his MINI Cooper before anyone can say a word.

I call out, “Thank you!” but I don’t think he hears me—he’s already pulling away.

“That was so heroic,” Flatso murmurs with a wink and a laugh. She had given up on her crush on Winnie almost instantly, and then it became sort of an inside joke. But I wholeheartedly agree that Winnie is basically a superhero. It crosses my mind that I may be falling in love with Winnie Quinn. That may sound absurd and childish, but I don’t even care. It feels nice. And I’ve never been in love before. Except with Laurence.