“Actually, sir,” Jules said, because he’d finally met people who he wanted to hang out with after school, assuming pleaseGod that they’d want to hang with him, too, “Monday would be better.”
“Oh. Good.” Harrison seemed delighted with that. His smiles, while rare, were warm. “In fact, yeah, that’s great. Monday it is.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Hey, Mr. H, will you sign our petition to start a gay/straight alliance?” Belle stopped the man from walking away.
“I’m a teacher, Isabelle,” he said in exasperation. “You need twenty-fivekidsto?—”
“You saidpeople,” she countered. “Get twenty-fivepeopleto sign. Last time I checked, you’re a person, so...”
“Twenty-five people who are students in this school,” he clarified. “Jesus you wear me out. Where are you supposed to be?”
“Lunch,” she said.
“Go. Eat.”
“We will,” she said laughing again as she danced away from him. Somehow she’d already conjured up an actual clipboard to which she'd affixed Hobbit’s appropriately lavender-colored paper, and she handed it now, with a flourish and a pen, to Jules.
Who signed it, yes, on line number twelve.
“I think Jules is a pretty name,” Belle said.
“Thank you,” he said, smiling up at her. “I’ve always thought so, too.”
“Let me see your schedule,” she demanded, hand out, “because I think we’re in your English class.”
“Really?” Jules asked, juggling the clipboard and pen as he pulled his list of classes from the back pocket of his jeans. “I don’t think so.” He hadn’t seen her there, and he absolutely would’ve noticed.
“Yup,” Belle said unfolding the tattered sheet. “We’re in AP, too—me and Tom. But yikes, you’re in Advanced Calc. We count on our fingers, so a hard no to that. But, ooh, Spanish—the Esses, they’re juniors, they’re with us in that one. Es una fiesta, Senior Cassidy! And bingo! You also have history with Mr. H! I’m in love with him—no offense, Tom.”
Average McCall—Tom—smiled easily and by now it was very clear that he wasn’t even remotely average, not even close. “None taken.”
“He does this weekly thing calledAll the History We’re Not Teaching You, and it’s appropriately enraging and we all get to rant and it’ssomuch fun!” She moved farther down Jules’s class list. “This is crazy, you’re in our art class! Hobbit’s in that, too. He’s only a sophomore, but his art skills aremad. All you’re missing is Theatre Arts. We can fix that easily enough—you’ve got study hall. Ta dah!” She handed the list back to him with a flourish.
“Welcome to Bullshit High,” she continued. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you on your first day. Tom and I were out on strike.”
“They went to the beach,” one of the girls—Sadie, the blonde in overalls—informed him.
“Save the whales,” Tom said.
“But they got caught,” Hobbit said mournfully.
“And they got suspended,” Shelly-in-overalls-with-long-dark-hair chimed in. “For an entire day.”
“So we went back to the beach,” Belle said as beside her Tom smiled and shrugged, likeWhat are you gonna do?
Jules was laughing. “Can I just ask...Gotta dance. Is that... some kind of practiced bit?”
“Nah,” Tom said. “That was just in the moment. Belle being Belle.”
“So when you stepped forward,” Jules asked Belle, “and it felt like you were on stage...”
Belle nodded emphatically. “Totally,” she said. “It felt, like, spotlight! It just popped out of my mouth.”
“And since we’ve all done a lot of improv together,” Shelly said.
“Andsince we’ve watchedSinging in the Rainfour thousand times,” Hobbit added.
