I passed Anamica’s quiz forward and she scowled at me, as though it was my fault she hadn’t gotten a score as perfect as her handwriting.
“Hey, uh, Luke?” I asked. “Can I have my quiz back?”
“Nice essay, Faulkner,” he said, leaning back in his chair, still holding my paper. “Which version of CliffsNotes did you use?”
“I didn’t know there were different versions,” I said. “Which one do you recommend?”
Luke muttered something under his breath and passed back my quiz. There was a piece of computer paper beneath it, folded in thirds.
I was about to mention it, but Luke shook his head slightly in warning, so I slipped the piece of paper into my bag and passed my quiz to the front.
“MS. WENG WANTS to see both of you,” said Toby, when Cassidy and I arrived at the lunch table with our mini-pizzas. “By the way, that means now.”
I crammed a slice of minipizza into my mouth and indicated that I was good to go.
“Great, now when he does eat, it’s disgusting,” Phoebe noted.
Cassidy sighed and sat down. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t get that message until the very end of lunch. How about you, Ezra?”
I swallowed thickly. “What message?”
“Good boy.” Cassidy put on her sunglasses and nibbled her way through half of her pizza before getting up.
“Are you seriously not finishing that?” I asked.
“Why?” Cassidy grinned, dangling the pizza half over a trash can. “Do you want it?”
“I want it,” Austin said, finally glancing up from his game console. “I’m broke. I spent all my money on MP Three.”
“I knew that’s what you were playing!” Toby said. “Dude, what level are you? Is it true the Eyes regenerate twice as fast if you Infinity Drop them?”
“Let’s go,” Cassidy said with a sigh, and I followed her to Ms. Weng’s classroom.
Ms. Weng was eating last night’s leftover spaghetti out of a plastic container at her desk and reading a celebrity gossip magazine. I’m not going to lie; it was pretty sad.
“You wanted to see us?” I asked.
She startled and guiltily slid an attendance folder over the magazine. I pretended not to notice.
“Yes, our two new recruits! I’m so happy to have both of you on the team.”
Suddenly, I remembered that sign-up sheet the first day of class and how I’d put Cassidy’s name down. I was screwed. I glanced at Cassidy, and her expression was a mixture of shock and horror.
“Um, about that?” I began. “I don’t think—”
But Ms. Weng wasn’t listening. She rambled on about how wonderful it was to have a seasoned pro like Cassidy, and how she was sure Cassidy or Toby could answer any questions I might have about competing.
Cassidy’s face had gone gray. “Ms. Weng,” she finally said. “I think there’s a mistake. I didn’t sign up.”
“Oh, I’ve already registered both of you for the San Diego open tournament in two weeks,” Ms. Weng said, misunderstanding. “And I’ve reserved the school van to drive everyone down for the weekend, unless either of you have any, er, special needs you’d like to discuss privately?”
“Nope,” I said through clenched teeth. “No ‘special needs.’”
I made the phrase sound good and dirty, and Cassidy shot me a look of sympathy.
“I’m so glad,” Ms. Weng said, handing us each a thick packet. “Now you’ll need to have these permission forms signed by a parent or guardian.”
“My parents are out of town,” Cassidy said. “Yeah, they’re in Switzerland at this medical symposium for the rest of the month.”
I was pretty sure Cassidy’s parents were at no such thing, but Ms. Weng just smiled and assured Cassidy that her old coach could fax over last year’s form for the time being. There was such a finality to her tone that we didn’t dare to question it.
Cassidy and I slunk from Ms. Weng’s room in defeat. The moment the door closed, Cassidy turned toward me, eyes blazing.
“What the hell?” she demanded. “She cornered us back there. And I never signed up to compete—it’s like she was planning this all along. I knew there was a reason I got put in debate class! ‘Oh, there aren’t any other team electives open,’ my advisor said. ‘It’s this or phys ed.’ Yeah, freaking right. I’m not some champion pony they can parade around whenever they feel like it. I don’t compete anymore, and they have no right to force me into it like this.”
“Um,” I said.
“And you didn’t sign up for it, either!” Cassidy jabbed a finger at my chest. “You should have seen your face when Ms. Weng asked if you had any special needs. I wish you’d punched her.”
“Yeah, that would’ve been productive.”
Cassidy sighed. “God, Ezra, you really don’t get it. Our names are already entered. We compete or forfeit on the tournament listing.”
Crap. I wasn’t familiar with the rules of debate competitions, and I hadn’t realized the only way out was to forfeit publicly.
“Um, Cassidy?” I had to tell her. “Remember that day in class with the sign-up sheet and how you were laughing at me?”
“Yeah?”
“I sort of signed you up as a joke,” I admitted.
“You WHAT?”
“I didn’t know!” I quickly amended. “You’d pulled that stupid stunt on me in Spanish and then Toby had signed me up so I just figured—”