James Patterson - Two Schools Out - Forever

Gazzy's eyes narrowed, and his hands formed into lethal little fists.

"Where did you get your hair done?" someone asked.

I turned to see a pale, skinny girl smiling at me. I pushed my lunch tray farther down the line. "Um, my bathroom?" Was she speaking in code? I had no clue what she meant. A recurring theme in my life.

She laughed and put a green apple on her tray. "No, I meant the blond streaks. They're awesome. Did you have it done in DC?"

Oh. My hair had blond streaks? Right. "I guess the sun did it," I said lamely.

"Lucky. Oh, look-banana pudding. I recommend it."

"Thanks." I took some, to be nice.

"My name's J.J.," she said, seeming completely comfortable with this social interaction. My palms were sweating. "It's short for Jennifer Joy. I mean, what were my parents thinking?"

I laughed, surprised that she would confide in me like that.

"Max is a cool name," J.J. said. "Sporty. Sophisticated."

"Yeah, that's me," I said, and she laughed some more, her eyes crinkling.

"Here's a couple spots," J.J. said, pointing to an empty lunch table. "Otherwise we'll have to sit next to Chari and her gang." She lowered her voice. "Don't mess with them."

I was halfway through lunch before I realized that J.J. and I had been talking for half an hour, and I apparently had not seemed so freakish that she'd run away screaming.

I had made a friend. My second one in fourteen years. I was on a roll.

"Capital of Paraguay?" the teacher asked.

Asuncion. Inhabited principally by the Guarani. Explored by Europeans starting in 1518. Paraguay is a landlocked country in South America. Population, six million and change-I raised my hand. "Asuncion?"

"Yes, that's right. Very good. Tonight I want you all to read about Paraguay in chapter eight of your world studies textbook. And now let's take out our science workbooks."

Feeling like a busy little student bee, I took out my science workbook. What further surprises would the Voice have for me? So far, it had been up on any number of subjects taught in the ninth grade. How handy. For once.

As I flipped past the bone structure of frogs, someone knocked on the classroom door. The teacher went over and had a whispered conversation, then turned to me. What?

"Max? They need you in the office for a moment." She gave me an encouraging smile, which somehow I didn't find all that encouraging.

Slowly I stood up and walked to the door. Was this it? Was it starting now? Was this person about to turn into an Eraser? My breath started to come faster, and my hands coiled at my sides.

Maybe not. Maybe there was something wrong with our paperwork. Something normal.

"In here." The assistant opened a door that led to a small anteroom. On two chairs in the little room were Iggy and the Gasman. Gazzy looked up at me and smiled nervously.

Oh, no. "Already?" I whispered to him, and he shrugged, wide-eyed.

"The headmaster will see you now," said the assistant, opening another door. "That's right now."

The headmaster, William Pruitt, according to a gold plaque on his desk, did not look happy to see us. In fact, he looked like he was about to blow his top. The second I clapped eyes on him, I couldn't help it: I hated his guts. His face was red and flushed with anger. His lips were full and wet- looking, a gross dark pink. Sparse tufts of hair ringed his shiny bald head.

I had the sinking feeling that this schmuck's inside was going to match his heinous outside, and I went on full alert.

"You are Maxine Ride?" he said with a sneering British accent that made the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

"Just Max," I said, resisting the urge to cross my arms over my chest and scowl at him.

"These are your brothers Jeff and..." He consulted his notes. "Zephyr?"

"Yes."

"Your brothers have set off a stink bomb in the second-floor boys' lavatory," said the headmaster. He sat back in his chair, lacing his beefy red fingers, and stared at me with cold, piggy black eyes.

I blinked, careful not to look at Iggy and Gazzy. "That's impossible," I said calmly. For one thing, they hadn't had enough time to acquire the materials to make one...

"Oh, is it?" Pruitt asked unpleasantly. "Why is that?"

"They're not troublemakers," I replied, injecting an earnest note into my voice. "They wouldn't do anything like that."

"They say they didn't do it. They're lying," he said flatly. His bushy eyebrows needed trimming. And the nose hair-yuck!

I looked indignant. "My brothers don't lie!" Of course, we all lie like rugs when we have to, but I wasn't going to tell him that.

"All children lie." Mr. Pruitt sneered. "Children are born knowing how to lie. They're dishonest, disrespectful, unhousebroken animals. Until we get to them."

Which made me question his career choice. Nice school you picked out, Anne. Sheesh.

I raised my chin. "Not my brothers. Our parents are missionaries, doing the Lord's work. We would never lie."

This seemed to give Mr. Pruitt pause, and again I congratulated myself on the brilliant backstory I'd given us. "Did anyone see them set off a stink bomb?"

"What is a stink bomb, anyway?" Gazzy asked, all blue eyes and innocence.

"There, you see?" I said. "They don't even know what one is."

Pruitt's small eyes narrowed even more. "You're not fooling me," he said with clear venom. "I know your brothers are guilty. I know you're protecting them. And I know something else: This is the last time you'll get away with anything at this school. Do I make myself clear?"

Actually, not really, but I was going to let it slide.

"Yes," I said crisply, and motioned to Gazzy to get up. When Iggy heard him, he rose also. I moved purposefully toward the door. "Thank you," I said, right before we slipped out.

We slunk out into the hall, and I started marching them to their classrooms.

"We're going to talk about this later, guys," I said under my breath.

After I dropped off Iggy, I realized I had a throbbing headache. One that seemed to have been caused by regular garden-variety tension, rather than by, say, a chip, or a Voice, or some wack-job whitecoat torturing me. What a nice change.

"You ignorant little sah-vages," Gazzy said, puffing and screwing up his face. As usual, his imitation was uncanny. I almost wanted to turn around to make sure the headmaster hadn't snuck up behind us.

Angel and Nudge were cracking up at Gazzy's recounting of the tale.

"You malignant little fiends," he added, and I couldn't help laughing.

"But sir," Gazzy went on in my voice, "our parents are missionaries. Lying is the Tenth Commandment. They're innocent of all wrongdoing. What's a stink bomb?"

Now even Fang was laughing, his shoulders shaking. In his white dress shirt he hardly even looked like himself.

"Is lying really the Tenth Commandment?" Iggy asked.

"No idea," I said. "Let's cut into the woods. This road's making me nervous."

We'd walked along the main road until we were out of sight of the school. Now we headed into the woods at an angle, knowing we would meet up with one of Anne's orchards soon.

"So who really did set off the stink bomb?" Nudge asked.

I rolled my eyes. "They did, of course." I glared at Gazzy, frustrated that my look was lost on Iggy. "I don't know how, I don't know why. I just know they did."

"Well, yes," Gazzy admitted, looking a tiny bit embarrassed. "This kid was a total jerk to me on the playground, and someone stuck a Kick Me sign on the back of Iggy's shirt."

"I told you I'd take care of that," Fang said to Iggy.

I sighed. "Guys, you're going to meet jerks in every situation. For the rest of your lives." However long that would be. "But you can't be doing stuff like stink bombs-not right now. We're trying to blend, remember? We're trying to not make waves, to not stick out. So making a stink bomb, setting it off, and getting caught was not the right way to go."