CHAPTER 21

HUDSON WAS SLOW ON THE DRAW. Those animals made Maggie cry, and he’d done nothing to stop them. Idiot. He should have said something —but what? And Maggie was acting so . . . weird. One minute she seemed to be opening the door a little, like she wanted to be friends. The next, she slammed it on his fingers.

Even from behind, Hudson could tell she was drying her cheeks. Tears were the blood of unseen wounds. Kat and her crew were animals, stalking their prey. And the smell of blood fueled them for the kill. Savage beasts.

Somehow he had to change the behavior of the bullies, right? He flipped open his notebook and read over his blacklist. Six names. It was enough. Actually it was perfect.

“Peace.” Mr. Cutter wrote the word in all caps across the entire whiteboard. “How does a country attain peace in a hostile world?” He faced the class. “Talk to me.”

Maggie didn’t even look up. Under her desk, Hudson noticed her covering one foot with the other —like she wished she could hide them. What was the deal with her shoes? He really did like them.

Mr. Cutter paced. “A nation that seeks peace in a hostile world must do what?”

Hudson turned that over in his mind.

“Have good foreign relations,” Giovanna said. “They talk. Trade. Compromise.”

“So,” Mr. Cutter said, “the key is diplomacy.” He wrote the word on the board. “Anybody else?”

“Contribute something to the global community,” Kat said.

“Okay,” Mr. Cutter said, “elaborate.”

Kat shrugged. “A country seeking world peace should bring something to the world table. Medicine. Food. Needed supplies.”

The answer sounded good —but Hudson felt she was still missing something.

“So,” Mr. Cutter said, “be a friend to every country —and they’ll be nice to you. Is that what you’re saying?”

Kat nodded. “Exactly.”

Okay, now Hudson was sure her answer was flawed.

Mr. Cutter wrote global humanitarianism on the board. “Mr. Sutton, how is that different from buying peace?”

“It’s not,” Hudson said.

Somebody laughed behind him. Wolfe?

“Hold on,” Kat said. “Helping others is the right, decent thing to do.”

What did she know about what was right or decent?

“In most cases I’d agree,” Mr. Cutter said. “But we’re talking about achieving peace in a hostile world. Is being a good neighbor enough?”

“It should be,” Kat said.

Alexa and Giovanna nodded like a couple of bobbleheads.

“In a perfect world,” Mr. Cutter said, “you may be right. But some countries are led by greedy, power-hungry men. Proud men. Heartless men. Jealous men. With that in mind, what does history teach us?”

“That men are the real problem,” Kat said.

The class erupted in laughter.

Mr. Cutter smiled, raised his hand, and waited for the class to quiet. “Name a country that kept peace by being a friend to a hostile nation. Think World War II.” He scanned the room. “Maggie?”

“Sweden tried to stay neutral —tried to be a friend.”

“To every country, including hostile Nazi Germany,” Mr. Cutter said.

Maggie nodded.

“And Sweden’s leaders successfully protected their own people —but gave Nazi troops free passage through their country, making it easy for them to occupy Norway,” Mr. Cutter said. “How do you think Norway felt about that?”

Maggie turned and seemed to lock eyes with Giovanna. “They saw Sweden as cowards. Traitors.”

Mr. Cutter nodded. “Many Norwegian patriots lost their lives because Sweden sought peace by refusing to fight against a global bully.”

Bully? Hudson hadn’t thought of Nazi Germany quite that way before.

“Honestly, I can’t think of a single country or civilization in history that attained long-term peace with hostile neighbors through simple diplomacy or by trying to appease them.” Mr. Cutter shrugged. “It sounds good. Noble. Civilized. But it leaves a country exposed and vulnerable to world leaders who are not quite as honorable.”

Mr. Cutter sat on the edge of his desk. “History isn’t just about memorizing names and dates and facts. What is the point of studying history?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Pancake said.

Everybody burst out laughing —even Maggie.

“I see . . .” Mr. Cutter paused for the room to quiet. “I have my work cut out for me. One aspect of learning history is to find the answers to questions like the one we’re looking at today. If a country thinks it will attain peace by mere diplomacy or humanitarianism alone —it will fail. Study history and you’ll avoid huge mistakes.”

“But countries are more civilized than ever before,” Kat said. “Our world is different.”

“The world is different,” Mr. Cutter said. “But are people?”

The class got quiet.

“Murder, rape, and violent crime. School shootings, road rage, and human trafficking. Racial bigotry, political corruption, and domestic abuse. All of that is here in our highly civilized country —and all on the rise. People are more polished, but what resides in their hearts is often no more civilized than it’s ever been.”

He turned and posted a question on the board: Based on history, how does a nation best attain peace in a hostile world? He tapped the board with his marker. “Homework tonight. Write an essay to answer this question.”

Groans.

“You all have my email. I want it in my mailbox by the time I get to school tomorrow morning. We’ll talk about it in class.”

“How long does the essay have to be?” Alexa’s voice.

Mr. Cutter smiled. “Only as long as you need to answer the question.”

“So a page is enough?”

“If you truly know the answer, your paper only needs to be one sentence long.”

“My kind of homework,” Wolfe said.

Other kids laughed, but Hudson was already thinking. He scribbled the question in his notebook. The idea of a one-sentence answer totally intrigued him.

The instant the bell rang, Maggie bolted.

Wolfe and his pack slipped out right behind her.

Pancake stepped up to Hudson’s desk. “Where is she off to in such a hurry?”

Hudson shook his head. “No idea.” The girl was a mystery. He watched her disappear out the door. The thing of it was, he liked mysteries.

But Hudson had to switch gears. Get his head in the game. Right now he was in a hostile world. And even though Zattora or Wolfe or Skirt hadn’t tried anything yet, that didn’t mean he’d somehow attained some kind of cease-fire. The last bell might have rung, but the day wasn’t over. Not yet. He still had to grab his bike and get off school property. Preferably in one piece.