Young Writers Society

Don't read this if you are offended by swearing. I gave it a PG13 rating for the language, but it's fine if younger people read it. I just gave it that rating because that's what it would probably get if the MPA was rating it or something...

Edit: Even though I haven't finished a complete first draft of this, I've started on a second one. Most of the changes here are minor, except that I'm trying out Judith as a third narrator. I think it might be hard to make three narrators sound completely different from each other, though. Let me know what you think.

UNREASONABLE PROGRESS


"The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable man persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man."
--George Bernard Shaw







JANUARY 2001





CHAPTER 1

J.T.

“Locking a teacher in the supply closet,” accused the principal, Cynthia Wood. She looked concerned.

“He got in there voluntarily,” I insisted.

“Leaving him there for three periods,” she went on as if she just couldn’t see how anybody could have done something so terrible.

“He said he wasn’t hungry,” I justified.

“Jordan, Jordan, Jordan.”

She always repeated my name like that, as though it would somehow make me totally remorseful all of a sudden for everything I’d done. Like that was happening.

“Cynthia, Cynthia, Cynthia,” I said.

“You know we can’t just let you go with a warning this time,” she said.

That was stupid. When had they ever let me go with just a warning?

“J.T., you know very well that this isn’t your first offense.”

“I’ve never locked anyone in a supply closet before yesterday,” I informed her, putting my feet up on her desk.

“I don’t just mean this incident, J.T. And I am not only referring to the fact that you are failing over half of your classes. For the last year and half, we’ve been putting up with your pranks, your practical jokes, your lack of application...”

I took out my headphones and prepared to put them on, letting her know I didn’t care to hear the list.

“...your defiance, your complete disregard for the rules...and then of course there’s your drug problem...”

“I’m not on drugs,” I said.

“I’m not here to judge, J.T.”

What the hell? “I’m not on drugs!” I persisted, although it was, for some reason, a pretty common misconception.

“What bothers me most,” said Ms. Wood, “is that the entire student body looks up to you. If J.T. Tyler locks a teacher in a supply closet, seven hundred and nineteen other children are going to lock teachers in supply closets. Don’t you see the fix I’m in?”

“Don’t you see I don’t give a shit?”

She sighed. When I’d first come to the school and said something like that, she’d freaked out. Now it was expected.

“Look. J.T. They follow you. They want to be like you. For some reason that I can’t possibly comprehend, you’re a role model--so you should try setting a good example every once in a while.”

“You don’t get it,” I realized, leaning back to balance the chair on two legs, holding onto the desk to stay up. “Maybe this is why they look up to me. I have the guts to do what they want to do but don’t. Listen. I locked McDillan in the closet because he was being a jackass. The whole class knew he was being a jackass. They all wanted him to be locked in a supply closet. Any one-a’ them woulda’ been the one to do it if they weren’t so fuckin’ scared of you. Dig?”

She had her arms folded now. Something about this meeting was different than all the other times I had been sitting there in Ms. Wood’s office. I should have known what it was, because I’d already been expelled from four elementary schools. This was a middle school, though. It had been a full two years since I had been expelled. I guess I’d forgotten what it was like.

“I’ve called your parents, Jordan,” Ms. Woods said. “They should arrive at any minute.”

The last time they had been in the office with me it had been pretty embarrassing. I’d been in trouble for a repeated offense of public displays of affection, which basically meant I’d been making out in hallways too much. They made a huge deal about it. In high school they don’t care, but they crack down on it pretty hard in middle school. And in elementary school. And in preschool. I thought the whole thing was pretty stupid. It was just kissing, really, but they acted like I was hosting orgies in the middle of the cafeteria.

“Please sit down, Mr. Tyler, Mrs. Tyler.”

My parents sat. They were pretty normal people, actually. People thought that because of the way I was turning out, I must have had a broken family, or abusive parents, or something. Nah. They were assholes, but not criminal assholes, and they even had a perfect marriage and everything. I never understood what the big deal was with broken families, anyway. If my parents had been divorced, I wouldn’t have given a damn. If they had never been around, I wouldn’t have given a damn about that either--hell, I'd be glad. Of course it sucked to have abusive parents, though. My dad had hit me once a year or two ago, but I had just hit him back harder--so it never happened again. It would have happened again if I hadn’t hit him back.

My dad was a tall, balding electronics engineer, with a pretty clueless expression on his face most of the time when it came to stuff about me. He had a pretty high IQ--not as high as mine, but pretty high. He wasn’t stupid about everything. He was just stupid when it came to me. He was smiling then, like this was a tea party or something. My mom had the same clueless expression. She was a few inches shorter than my dad, and was not going bald.

“I assume you’re aware of the trouble your son has been causing,” Ms. Wood said, frowning like this was important. She didn’t wait for an answer or anything. She talked to my parents for a pretty long time about boring grown-up stuff.

I put on my headphones, and they didn’t even notice until I blasted “Smells Like Teen Spirit.”

“J.T., it’s hurting our ears...”

Yeah right. Then they went telling us kids not to exaggerate. Oh well--it wasn’t as hypocritical as some other things people did. Everybody was a hypocrite. Even I was a hypocrite. At least I knew it.

“So I can’t imagine what it’s doing to you,” my mom finished.

“I’m alright, really,” I said. I could hear her because at that point I was between tracks.

“J.T., you should be listening to this,” said Dad.

“I am listening,” I said. “I have an incredible ability to double-task.” I took the headphones off, but only because I wanted to switch CDs. “What’s up?”

Ms. Wood cleared her throat. I took out Nirvana and flipped through my CD case.

“J.T.,” Ms. Wood said. “J.T. Listen to me.”

They kept on saying my name. I don’t really know why. Ms. Wood had said my name about a thousand times in this meeting.

“Yeah?”

“I am beginning to think...” She took a deep breath.

That’s when I realized what was coming. I had mixed emotions about it. On the one hand I had a lot of friends there, but on the other hand I figured I would probably end up at River Heights Junior High, where all my friends from elementary school went, including my best friend, Dave.

“That’s good,” I said. “I begin to think sometimes, too.”

“Yes, well...J.T.,”--there it was again--“we’re beginning to think that West Street Middle School is not the right place for you.”

No shit, Sherlock. I almost laughed. West Street Middle School wasn’t the right place for anybody who wasn’t a studious square who got straight A’s and actually liked history class, or at least thought it was okay.

“You’re kicking me out,” I said emotionlessly.

“She’s only saying that maybe you should try something else, J.T.,” my mother said. My mother was a very deluded person.

“I’m kicking you out,” said Ms. Woods. It sounded weird coming from her. You’d think she’d have had some more polite way to say it.

“It’s okay,” I told my parents. “I'll go to RHJH."

“J.T., I don’t think you’d do any better at River Heights Junior High than you are doing here,” said Ms. Wood.

“Me neither,” I agreed. I didn’t think that meant anything.

“I think there is a better alternative,” said Ms. Wood.

I guess I was kind of curious about that. I wondered if they could get permission from the government to let me drop out of school completely.

“When my son was your age, I sent him to St. Joseph Hall.”

“What is that, some private school?” I asked. I had kind of a grudge against private schools.

“Yes,” she said, but she sounded as though there were more to it than that.

Oh, no, I thought. It’s a juvenile correctional facility. I had never been to one of those, but there had been some close calls. My cousin Jace had been in a reformatory once and juvy a couple of times, and he was only a couple of years older than me. Of course he wasn’t from River Heights. I bet a River Heights kid would get killed in juvy.

“It’s a Catholic boarding school for boys.”

I burst out laughing. That was, of course, a million times worse than a juvenile correctional facility.

She went on and on about the great education I would receive in--get this--Oregon. Like my parents were going to send me out of the state because she said so.

I too tired to say much about your piece at the mo BUT i loved it! I hope you continue it... i'll be upset if you don't! lol
mim x

This is really quite good. The dialogue is excellent; in the beginning I wasn't too fond of it, but I grew to like it (I thought it was reading too much like a script, but I don't think so anymore). Your description is wonderful, and you really kept my interest the entire time. All I can say is, continue this!

Overall, superb. I have no criticism or gripes.

this was good, and relevant too. i went to boarding school for a year for something like that, so this kind of made me smile. i'm not sure how old your character is though, not everyone is familiar with american school systems.

anyway, there was only one awkward part, when you were explaining how your narrator's parents were hippies, and how he didn't wnt to be a hippie or something. it just kind of went on a lot, with an unnecessary amount of 'hippie' circulating.

Thanks for the comments, you guys. This is the rest of the first chapter:

#

My parents sent me out of the state because she said so. It was insane!

Thank god St. Joseph Hall had gone co-ed, or I probably would have gone even more postal. My parents really thought that sending me to a school in Oregon--where for all I knew nuns might teach the classes or something--was the way to go. Ms. Wood had them absolutely brainwashed! They weren’t completely sure about it at first, but she gave them about a million pamphlets to continue the brainwashing process.

They told me to read them but I didn’t; I didn’t want to encourage them. I made one exception merely to find out when I had to get up and when classes ended.

Pretty soon, they were telling me St. Joseph Hall was one of the best-ranked schools in the country, wasn’t that great? (So was RHJH.) And hey, guess what? They had a golf team. Wasn’t that great? I didn’t like golf! And they went on and on as if I had begged them for years to let me go to a school with a golf team.

“I don’t want to go, Mom,” I said plainly.

“You’ll love it there!” was her response. That was their response to everything I said, just like my response to everything they said was a blandly sarcastic, “happy, happy, joy, joy.” This phrase seemed to have been inspired by Ren and Stimpy. That was strange; I hated Ren and Stimpy and most other cartoons.

My parents were insane. They kept telling me we’d see each other every month--as if I wanted to see them every month.

Not only that, but I was pretty sure the food was going to suck. That was terrible. I was big on food.

As if all this--the potentially bad food and going to a school with a golf team, but no basketball team--wasn’t bad enough (considering how great my life had been so far), my plane was delayed. I got stuck waiting in the airport for hours. My parents were there. They seriously thought I wanted them there. Like I would want to be with people who sentenced me to bad food and everything.

“You can go, really. I’ll be fine.”

They acted like they were gonna miss me so damn much. They were the ones who were sending me there! It was their fault! Some of my friends wanted to come to the airport to say goodbye and everything, but my parents said it was a family time. A family time!

Before we left in the car to go to the airport, I tried to consider all the other options, until I realized there were none. I was twelve--I couldn't get a job anywhere, so running away would be stupid. I was going to Oregon. At least I wasn’t the type who got homesick.

* * *

Because of the delay, my taxi got to St. Joseph at about two in the morning. It was a pearl-colored, grandiose building, the kind that invited snobs. It was full of pillars. Wide marble steps led me to the huge doors. They had to wake the headmaster up and everything to get me “settled in.” I could tell he was tired as hell. He was this thin, curly-mustached guy--kind of young for a principal and looked it.

“So you’re Jordan Tyler,” he said, like he was meeting some famous outlaw. That made me kind of proud.

“Yes,” I muttered.

He gave me a short tour, which could hardly be called a tour, since it was basically just pointing to the cafeteria and what I suspected was my first period classroom. Then he handed me this folded sweater-vest, tie, slacks, and a collared shirt.

“What the hell am I s’post to do with this?” I asked.

“Wear it. It’s your uniform. And don’t talk to me like that.”

“I’ll talk to you however the hell I want, and there’s no way I’m wearing a sweater-vest,” I said. I said it loudly, but he was halfway down the hallway by then and he didn’t even hear. (He’d told me on my arrival he was hard of hearing.) I realized that I was supposed to follow him. He stopped, and slowly opened a door.

He said, “This is your dorm room.” Then he left--just like that. I was starting to wonder if this was one of those freaky lockup schools you read about in magazines.

I dropped my stuff by the empty bed and surveyed the room. There were two sets of bunk beds, and I was stuck on the bottom. I stood on the end of my bed and held onto the rail of the top bunk to see who the other guys were. Above me was this kid who looked as much like an insect as he could have without actually being one. In the other two bunks were identical twins, big, red-haired kids with freckles. There was a bookshelf at the end opposite the bunks. I wasn’t tired, so I thought maybe I could use a flashlight to read something, but there were only textbooks and four different copies of the bible. I went back to my bunk and lay down, with my arms behind my head. Man, this was gonna suck. I had thought it would at least be cool to live with three other kids, but come on, Insect Boy?

I sat up, bumped my head, and cursed the bed for being too low, myself for being too tall, my parents for giving me the genes to make me so damn tall, and God too, because everything was supposed to be His fault, wasn’t it? I thought about waking up the other kids to say hey, but I knew some people didn’t like waking up at two in the morning. I personally didn’t like getting up at six o’clock, but according to the many pamphlets, that’s when everybody had to get up in this place. I didn’t think I would be able to survive that.

I fell asleep after awhile. A few hours later--I thought it was a few minutes later, but my watch never lied--a bell rang real loud, so I put a pillow over my face until it stopped. A couple of minutes later, when I’d just managed to fall back to sleep, somebody was shaking me. I moved the pillow so I could see. It was that Insect Boy.

I was so tired that I was kind of delirious, so I think I actually called him that. I said, “Hey, Insect Boy.”

Those three annoying guys spent half the morning trying to get me out of bed. The human insect’s name was Nathaniel McAllen, but he was already Insect Boy to me permanently. The twins were Evan and Daniel.

Back in River Heights, I’d sometimes had to get up that early for hockey practice, but that had made sense; we’d needed the ice time. Here, it was like, why, why, why?

I yawned. The others were dressed already. Nathaniel looked even more like a bug with his glasses on, and the twins had uniforms that must have been bought years ago, because they were much too small. Basically, they looked like total losers. Maroon sweater-vests never added to anyone’s appearance.

I kicked my legs over the side of the bed. I tried to start a conversation, but my new roommates seemed focused on getting ready for class--going over homework and everything. Plus, I was trying to talk about music, and they seemed to have no idea what rock and roll was. It was scaring me. The annoying thing was, they were looking at me like I was the idiot. They were such dorks they didn’t even recognize cool when they saw it.

“You’d better be ready soon,” one of the twins told me on his way out. My other roommates nodded. All three of them left in a hurry.

I pulled on some jeans and a sweatshirt, and packed my backpack with some binders and paper and my CD player.

The bell rang, telling me I was supposed to be in class in five minutes. I had already missed breakfast, and I still had to gel my hair and everything.

I did show up eventually. As I pushed open the door, fifteen faces turned towards me. Standing at the front was--get this--a real live nun, in a habit and everything. I choked back a “holy shit” and almost swallowed my gum.

“You gotta be kidding me.”

You continued it!!!!!! I enjoyed the second part to the chapter but i think that you spoke a bit too much about how bad the characters' parents were for sending him there... if you get me. I think it slightly detracts from the overall story but i still love it.

Once again.... continue this!!! mim x

Hey, this was really good...we were missing you at Real Kids! I'm here now...nobody's really on there anymore. I really am not in a critting mood, I'm serious...

Hi, Sam. Yeah, I left Real Kids...like everybody says a lot of it was just pointless chatting instead of critiquing, and I e-mailed Deborah Morris to ask for more detailed guidelines on what's ok and what's not ok to post, and it turns out everything I've written in the last three years or so (except for Talon Royals...there's no partying since it takes place in another world I made up new swearwords) is considered not ok. Apparently swearing is only ok when it's "hell" and "damn" and the swearwords are used minimally "to establish the negative character of a 'bad guy'." Writing involving drug use and underage drinking/partying is allowed but only if portrayed negatively. Actually now that I think of it even Talon Royals had a seventeen-year-old drinking in a bar at some point, so I couldn't even post that.

I like this site a whole lot better too...it's more fun, I guess, since there's more people and all. Glad I know someone here, though!

CHAPTER 2

MADELINE

By second semester of the seventh grade, it had been five and a half years since I’d started at St. Joseph Hall. My aunt had recommended it. Her kids, Evan and Daniel, were in my year.

“Guess what?” asked my best friend, Catherine Banks, before breakfast, as she struggled to fix her curly dark blonde hair without a mirror. Catherine, Tiffany Luoh, Lily Yao, and I had been sharing the same dorm room since the fifth grade.

“What?”

“There’s a new kid.”

It was the middle of the year, so a new kid, of any grade or gender, was big news at St. Joseph Hall.

“How do you know?” I asked.

“I heard Headmaster Fallows talking to Sister Elizabeth.”

"Boy or girl?” asked Tiffany.

“Headmaster Fallows said he got expelled from his old school,” Catherine informed us. “They said he was coming last night.” She shrugged, looking around. “Then he’d be here, though.”

When class started at seven thirty, he was still nowhere to be seen, so I thought Catherine had probably misheard.

“Take out your math books,” commanded Sister Elizabeth. She had taught at St. Joseph Hall for nearly thirty-five years.

We took out our books and started correcting the homework she’d assigned the night before. There was a noise outside. The door opened, and in came this totally gorgeous guy, with a Jansport backpack hanging over one shoulder.

For those of you who have never been to St. Joseph Hall, let me tell you, there are no hot guys. It had been about two years since I’d seen one (in person). I could hardly believe my eyes. He was, like, twice as hot as any of the male models and famous actors on the posters in my bedroom back home.

Tiffany raised her eyebrows at me to let me know she was thinking the same thing. Catherine whispered something to Lily.

He was tall with blond hair and blue eyes, which is totally my type. He had this look that said clearly, “I don’t want to be here.” That was such a great look.

He muttered something under his breath.

“Name,” Sister Elizabeth barked.

“J.T.”

“Name,” Sister Elizabeth barked again.

“Jordan Tyler.”

“Reason for being late.”

The kid raised one eyebrow. “Well, I try to be late at least once a week,” he told her. “Some people say it sucks when you come in and everyone’s staring at you, but, you know, I like being the center of attention.”

He looked towards the class, smiling. I smiled too, trying to get him to notice me.

Sister Elizabeth was not as impressed by his good looks as the rest of us were.

“Are you chewing gum?”

“Yeah.”

“Chewing gum is not allowed.”

He shrugged as though it was losing its flavor anyway and he might as well get rid of it. He got a tissue from the desk and wrapped the gum in it before throwing it away. That’s how I knew, he wasn’t just hot; he was nice, too!

“Where’s your uniform?” Sister Elizabeth demanded.

He shrugged.

“Did you receive one?”

“Yeah.”

“Why aren’t you wearing it?”

J.T. raised an eyebrow again. “Come on. Sweater-vests?”

He hated sweater-vests. I hated sweater-vests. It was a match made in heaven!

“Leave this classroom, and don’t come back until you intend to have your uniform on like a proper student of St. Joseph Hall.”

Sister Elizabeth was one of the strictest teachers I had ever had. He was new! He was cute! She should have cut him some slack!

J.T. shrugged. “No problem.”

He left, and didn’t come back for the rest of the day.

Yusssssssss...

Oh my gosh, J Wilder, this rocks so much...I seriously DO NOT know what to say...

Mmm, I love it. To be brutally honest, I can't stand either of the main characters--J.T. for his disrespect and Madeline for her shallowness--but the story is well written enough for me to really appreciate it and enjoy it. It's rare that I dislike a protagonist and like the story, but the plot is interesting enough to keep my attention. You packed an immense amount of attitude into and really got inside J.T.'s head, which is why I found the story so interesting in the first place.

Nice job. I hope to read more of this soon.

LOL... I love it! Your characters are so real... it's awesome. Only crit I have is how much J.T. goes on and on about his parents... it's a bit much and kind of ends up detracting from the plot.

Overall, however, I love it. Awesome job.

Thanks for the replies, you guys. I cut the stuff about his parents being hippies and all. Here is more of Chapter 2. This is where some of the major editing comes in, because I've decided to try adding a third narrator to get the perspective of those who dislike J.T.

JUIDTH

I couldn't see why the new student had to ruin an otherwise pleasant Monday morning by disrupting our class in such a disrespectful way.

Everything bothered me about him immediately--the way he came in chewing gum, the way he dressed more like he was going to the beach rather than a classroom, and the way he answered most of Sister Elizabeth's questions in monosyllables. Who comes in late to their first day of class? Just as annoying, the mindless pathetic ditzes of the class, like Madeline Whitley and Tiffany Luoh, were looking at him like he was Tom Cruise. He was probably one of those boys whose looks had made him really arrogant. It was already clear that he thought he was too special to listen to authority. What, so the rules didn't apply to him?

"That guy was so hot," my friend Kimberly Dawson leaned over to whisper.

I stared at her with disdain. I was about to ask her if she was serious, but then Sister Elizabeth went back to the math lesson and gave Kimberly a warning look, so I waited until classes got out for lunch. Kimberly, our friend Karen, and I walked into the dining area together.

"Can you believe that new kid?" I said. "Complete jerk, right?"

Karen shrugged. She didn't usually talk much.

"Tell me you were kidding earlier," I said to Kimberly.

She shrugged too. "J.T. is hot. Can you really argue with that?"

I stared at her. There was no way Kimberly could fall for J.T.'s pathetic bad-boy act. Kimberly was way smarter than that. She got straight A's.

I looked down at her and folded my arms. "I just think he seems like trouble.

J.T.

No way I’m wearing a sweater-vest, I told myself. I was lying on my lower bunk, listening to Led Zeppelin and reading Taming the Star Runner, which I had found at the bottom of my backpack. The rest of the kids were still in class. I, of course, didn’t have to go back, until I intended to wear my uniform like “a proper student of St. Joseph Hall.” And God knew that would be never. I wanted to play the guitar, but I’d left all three of mine at home when my parents said I wouldn’t have anyplace to play them. I pressed the stop button on my CD player and took off my headphones, remembering that I was supposed to call Samantha. I took out my cell phone and dialed. It was almost three, so West Street School would be out already.

“Hello?”

“Hey, can I talk to Samantha, please? Thanks...Hey. You told me to call when I got here...Yeah, sorry...I couldn’t, it was one in the morning. My plane got delayed.”

“That sucks! So, how is it over there?”

“It sucks. It's hell.”

“That bad?”

“Worse. I haven’t eaten all day.”

“How are your roommates? How are the teachers? Did you miss us? Did you miss me?” Samantha always spoke really quickly, like her head was bursting with a million different things to say and the way she’d get to say the most was talking as fast as possible.

“My roommates...I don’t know. I haven’t really talked to them. There’s these twins, Evan and Daniel, and then Insect Boy...”

“Insect Boy?”

“I can’t remember his real name. He looks like a bug. And the teachers? I don’t know, I’ve only met one of them and she was a bitch.”

“Yeah, well, you hate all teachers.”

“Her especially. Yeah, I miss you...I miss you guys a lot.”

It wasn’t true. I’d actually never missed anyone in my life. I didn’t know why. I didn’t know why I lied about it, either. I lied a lot but usually I had a great reason. If you're put into a situation where it's beneficial to lie, you lie. That's just the way it is. There didn’t seem to be a point to this one, though. I think I just said it automatically. River Heights kids do that a lot. I thought it was because River Heights was a boring rich town. Bored rich kids often start talking and don’t realize they’re completely bullshitting until halfway through it. It's just something to say. You know.

“We all miss you, too,” Samantha said. “Totally. Have you talked to anyone else?”

“No time.” I sighed. “I got here at one, and I couldn’t call then. I couldn’t call you guys early in the morning, either. Then you were all in school. Just got out, right?”

“Yeah. Oh my gosh, J.T., I can’t believe they sent you there!”

“Neither can I,” I groaned. “I can’t think of a worse place to be.”

Of course I could think of a worse place to be. I could think of a million worse places to be. For example, a Columbian prison or one of those countries in Africa where everybody's starving or something. I was just exaggerating. When you lived in a boring town like River Heights, you ended up exaggerating a lot. I assumed that was how a lot of really weird rumors got spread all the time. A lot of them were about me. They made me sound more extreme than I was. I thought it was because everybody there was so square that they needed somebody not to be.

When nothing ever happens in a place people make up stuff to happen in it.

“Anyways, how was your day?” I asked.

“McDillan gave too much homework, again...we tried to get him back in the supply closet, but he called Wood and she gave us all a lecture. We’ve got detention tomorrow, J.T.”

“You’ve gotta catch him by surprise. McDillan, I mean.”

“School’s not the same without you. It’s never any fun.”

“Like it was before?” I asked sarcastically.

“It was, sometimes. You know it was. You loved to hate it, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. It certainly was better than this place.”

“When did classes end for you?” she asked.

“They’ll end in a minute.”

“You cut the first day again?”

“I had permission.”

“Seriously? I thought you said your teacher’s a bitch.”

“She is. She told me not to come back until I intended to wear my uniform.”

“Ugh, you have uniforms there?”

“Maroon sweater-vests.”

Samantha made a gagging noise. I glanced at my watch. Three, which meant classes had ended. There was a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“Jordan, open this door immediately.”

It was Fallows.

“Hang on, Sam...I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Tell Rick and Luke and Lisa hey for me. And everybody else. Dave and Carl, if you see them. Bye.”

The door burst open as I was hanging up. No lock.

“No cell phones allowed,” Fallows said sternly. “Get up, Jordan. You’re coming with me.”

I stuffed my cell into my backpack, yanked the Bad Boys Bail Bonds keychain to close it, and followed him out the door, to his office. He told me to sit down in the wooden chair in front of the desk. Mahogany.

“What’s up?” I said.

He glared at me. “Jordan, what were you doing out of class?”

“Don’t see how it’s any of your goddamn business.”

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

He seemed too calm. He had been warned, I could tell. Someone had told him about me. He had gone through my file or something. In that case, it amazed me that he was still willing to take me on.

“Jordan, tell me why you weren’t in class.”

“The teacher told me to go,” I said.

“I talked to Sister Elizabeth,” he said. I didn’t know who Sister Elizabeth was, but I was guessing she was the nun. “She sent you to put on your uniform. I refuse to believe that it takes you seven hours to put on a uniform.”

I folded my arms. “I’m not wearing a tie, and I’m sure as hell not wearing a sweater-vest.”

“It’s not up to you, Jordan.”

“What are you gonna do, force it on me?”

“If that’s what it takes,” he said, his expression totally serious.

*sob*

Why do you have to trash the sweater vest!!!!! *everyone stares at sam*

NO, i'm not wearing one, nope...