35

The closer we get to room 225, the slower Spud walks. By the time we’re passing 224, he’s practically immobile.

“Come on, Spud. It’s going to be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” I lie.

“Um, okay.”

We nudge forward a few more feet until we’re looking through the window in the door of room 225. Morgan is sitting on the teacher’s desk, chairing the emergency session of GRRLS. I hope that she’ll be the one to see me, but no such luck. Instead, Kayla catches a glimpse of me, and within seconds the classroom is rattling with boos. Morgan turns around, gives a curt nod, and then I pull Spud away.

“I thought you said it’d be fine?”

“They weren’t booing you,” I say comfortingly.

“They’re going to lynch us.”

“Probably.”

“Geez, Kev. Like, why don’t we just go back and take our chances with Brandon?”

“We still might.” I drag Spud along the corridor and down the main staircase. “Listen, Spud, do you trust me?”

“No, of course not. Why the hell would I trust you?”

“So what was all that stuff about my speech changing your life?”

“It doesn’t mean I trust you.”

“Great!”

At the bottom of the staircase, I hesitate by the double doors leading to the Quad. I have serious misgivings about this part of the plan, but Spud seems to be reading my thoughts—he mumbles something about his counselor and then clomps onto the thick lush grass, while I follow close behind. Then he turns around expectantly, and I point to the doors. Almost immediately the entire contingent of GRRLS comes pouring through, all death stares and hands on hips and concentrated estrogen.

“Um, hello,” I say, once they’ve fallen into silence. “So you’re probably wondering why Morgan told you to come down here, huh?”

Actually, they just look like they’re waiting for a chance to pummel me, but I pretend they’ve answered in the affirmative as it makes it easier for me to continue.

“Yeah, so the reason you’re here is that—”

“I’m really sorry,” babbles Spud, like they’ve just threatened him with thumbscrews. “I wholeheartedly apologize for any part I have played in the offensive endeavors of the so-called Graduation Rituals.”

There’s a lengthy silence as they process this impressive oratory display, then they’re all staring at me again. But it’s clear that Spud has softened their resistance, and as I resume my speech I’m not so afraid that this will be my last day on earth. I even catch Abby smiling at me reassuringly, which really helps.

“Yeah, so I … oh, the hell with it,” I shout, pulling the book from my bag. “This is the Book of Busts. I’m sorry I ever made you care about something as meaningless as this. And since the information in it belongs to no one but you, I hereby return it to you, to do with as you please.” I throw it on the grass with a flourish.

“And this is the Alternative Yearbook,” adds Spud, “which … well, actually, I never got around to filling it in, but if I had it would have been pretty offensive as well, and I’m sorry for that.” He throws it on top of the Book of Busts.

“And now,” says Morgan solemnly, stepping forward to join us, “I think it’s time to free ourselves from the influence of bad literature forever.”

Everyone holds their breath as she pulls a bottle of perfume and a lighter from her purse. She douses the open leather-bound books with Calvin Klein Euphoria, then flicks her lighter. Instantly the worn pages are devoured by flames, and the air fills with smoke and cheering.

Abby points to a row of windows running along one side of the Quad. Behind them, the remaining proponents of the Graduation Rituals are staring at us with seething hatred.

Without hesitation, Morgan takes charge. “Sisters,” she cries, “I want you to make a note of each of those boys. Whatever happens, they won’t have a dance at the prom. Agreed?”

Suddenly everyone is cheering again, and Zach comes out to investigate. The sight of Taylor applauding wildly probably didn’t sit too well with him. He ought to realize he’s vastly outnumbered, but he doesn’t seem to have a firm grasp on the situation, so he strides forward until he’s surrounded by GRRLS.

“What are you doing here, Taylor?” he asks with a bemused expression. “You’re not a dyke.”

Taylor just shakes her head. “Isn’t it time you crawled back to your cave and played some more drinking games?”

“Screw you, bitch.”

There’s an eerie silence. Taylor looks like she can’t decide whether to laugh or scream or punch Zach.

Spud steps forward. “I think you need to leave, Zach,” he says calmly.

Zach blinks in surprise, then regains his composure. “Oh yeah? Why?”

“Because I’m feeling really tense.” Suddenly, Spud is doing a passable impression of Bruce Banner just before he becomes the Hulk. “And I don’t think I can be held responsible for what I might do.”

Zach’s eyes narrow, and in a rare moment of intellectual clarity he takes a step back. “Yeah, well … fine.”

Zach hasn’t made it back through the double doors before everyone is laughing and cheering again. All except Taylor, who plants a kiss on Spud’s cheek.

“My knight in shining armor,” she bubbles.

Spud blushes.

“Oh, the fire’s gone out already,” says Jessica, directing everyone’s attention to the sad pile of charred sheets on the ground. She proposes a moment of silence.

Morgan leans in toward me and whispers, “I’d have to say that went pretty well.”

“Yeah, it actually did.”

“You did a brave thing, Kevin. Everyone here knows that now. I’m proud of you. You should be proud of yourself too.”

I look around and see that Abby is smiling, and suddenly everything seems worthwhile. And I really do feel proud.

“Ah, wonderful,” cackles Principal Jefferies, appearing beside the double doors. “A bumper crop! So many punishments, so little time!”