Expelled(53)

I guess she couldn’t make her self-restraint last. Jere7my shrinks a little and mimes zipping his mouth.

I watch Parker warily as I go on. “Palmieri told me that I wouldn’t fail the year—as long as I kept my mouth shut,” I say. “He told me that life was about compromises, and that what’s true and what’s right aren’t necessarily the same things.” I pause. “But personally, I think that’s bullshit.”

Jude nods. “We can’t pretend we don’t know what’s going on. Steroids are crazy dangerous.” Then he turns to Parker. “Do they shrink your nards?” he asks, because apparently he just can’t help himself.

“They turn ’em to acorns,” Jere7my says. “That’s why the whole football team wears bikinis in the shower.”

“It’s not funny,” Parker says.

“He’s right,” I say, and I wonder if this is the first and last time I will ever agree with Parker Harris.

“So what would Palmieri do if you didn’t talk?” Sasha asks.

“He sure as hell wouldn’t fire Higgins,” Parker says. “We’ve won state playoffs every year he’s coached. Do you know how much bank he brings in? The football program has crazy donors, and that money gets spread around. You think the library computers got funded from those dumb bake sales the book nerds had? Think again. You’re all sucking off the football teat.”

“Ugh, thanks for that image,” Jude grumbles.

“Well, we need to put a stop to it,” I say. “Parker, you’re the key. You were the victim. If I speak, will you back me up?”

Parker stares out at the pond as a family of mallards glides by. “It’ll fuck up everything.”

I don’t blame him for his reluctance. Would I stand up if I still had anything to lose?

“You know what, Parker?” Sasha says quietly. “It’s a way out. It means you don’t have to admit you hate football. You just have to admit you hate steroids. Hated what they made you feel like.”

“You mean like the Incredible Hulk?” Jere7my asks. “Doesn’t sound that bad to me.”

Parker turns to him. “Try it sometime and maybe you’ll top ninety-eight pounds,” he growls. “But they suck, dude. You get manic. You drink too much and you don’t sleep enough. You get zits on your chest and random boner syndrome. Keep it up and you get forearms like Popeye and balls like Raisinets.”

“Right! So this can be your way out,” Sasha says again. She puts her hand on his shoulder. “And it’s the right thing to do.”

“Says the liar and the thief,” Jere7my mutters.

Parker looks grim. “Higgins has everyone so brainwashed,” he says. “It’ll be just my word against his.”

“But you have us,” I remind him.

Parker barks a laugh. “Yeah, what are you going to do? Tweet about it? Write a letter to the editor?”

An idea is slowly forming in my mind. If it works, I think I might have the makings of a brand-new ending.

“Felix,” I say, “remember what I told you when I was trying to get you to help us out?”

He shakes his head. “Nope.”

“I said ‘Everyone knows that if you want people on your side, you need publicity,’” I say. “And I think I know how to get it.”





51


“I don’t know,” Jude says, looking around nervously. “This really might be your most insane idea yet.”

It’s noon on Friday, and we’re outside one of the high school gymnasium’s emergency exits. I can hear the dull roar of the Arlington student body on the other side of the double doors, settling onto the bleachers for the end-of-year assembly.

“Where’s everybody else?” Jude asks.

“Jere7my and Felix are inside, obviously,” I say, “since they didn’t get expelled. But Parker and Sasha will be here any moment.” I pause. “I hope.”

Jude bounces up and down on his toes and waves his arms around. “This is me trying to get rid of excess anxiety,” he explains. “This is me trying not to think about how stupid this plan is.”

“It’s only stupid if it doesn’t work,” I say.

“What are the chances?” Jude asks.

I shrug. “Who knows? But haven’t we learned to live on the edge?”

“Just don’t expect me to speak,” Jude says. “I’m only here for moral support.”

Then I see Parker jogging over to us, untying his Chase Academy tie. “Hey, look. Here’s the star of the show,” I say, trying, for Jude’s sake, to sound upbeat.

But Parker looks twitchy and weird—like he’s having second thoughts.

“You okay?” Jude asks him warily. “Because we totally don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, we do,” I say.

Parker shrugs. Grunts.

I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but it’s not exactly confidence inspiring.

“You need to remember that we’re doing the right thing,” I tell him. “Thanks to you, the next generation of jocks won’t have to ruin another person’s life just to get kicked off the football team.” Then I grin and throw a fake punch at his slab of a shoulder, pretending a certainty I don’t remotely feel. “I’m kidding, bro. What I mean is, thanks to you, no other Arlington kid’s going to have to shoot up human growth hormone. Seriously, Parker. You’re going to help a lot of people today.”