Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda(42)

And the guy in the skirt’s sign says, “WHAT WHAT—IN THA BUTT!”

The guys are grinding and some other people peek through the doorway laughing. This one girl laughs so hard she’s clutching her stomach, and someone says, “Stop, y’all! Oh my God, y’all are so bad.” But she’s laughing, too.

It’s strange—I’m not even blushing. I feel like I’m watching this happen from a million miles away.

Then, suddenly, Taylor freaking Metternich, of all people, runs down the steps at the side of the stage and down the aisle of the auditorium. And Abby is right behind her.

“Aww shit,” says the guy in the skirt, and the other guy giggles. And then they haul ass out of the auditorium, letting the door slam shut.

Taylor and Abby burst through behind them, and there’s this huge commotion of yelling and footsteps. Ms. Albright runs after them and the rest of us just kind of stand there. Except somehow I end up sitting on one of the platforms, smushed in between two senior girls who have their arms around my shoulders.

I catch a glimpse of Martin, and it looks like he’s been crumpled. His hands are covering his face.

A few minutes later, Abby bursts back through the door, followed by Ms. Albright, who has her arm around Taylor. And Taylor is splotchy and flushed, like she’s been crying. I watch as Ms. Albright guides Taylor to the front row, lets her sit next to Cal, and then kneels down in front of them for a minute to talk to them.

Abby walks straight back up the stairs to me, shaking her head.

“People suck,” she says.

I nod slowly.

“I honestly thought Taylor was going to hit one of those guys.”

Taylor Metternich. Seriously. Almost hitting some guy.

“You’re kidding me.”

“No, really,” Abby says. “I almost did, too.”

“Good,” says one of the senior girls, Brianna.

I look briefly at Taylor. She’s leaning back in her chair with her eyes closed, just breathing. “But she didn’t hit him, right? I don’t want her to get in trouble because of me.”

“Oh my gosh. Don’t even say that. None of this is your fault, Simon,” Abby says. “Those guys are douchebags.”

“They can’t get away with that,” says Brianna. “Don’t we have a zero tolerance policy?”

But Creekwood’s zero tolerance bullying policy is enforced about as strictly as the freaking dress code.

“Don’t worry,” says Abby. “They’re sitting in Ms. Knight’s office right now. I think their mommies are getting called.”

And sure enough, moments later, Ms. Albright gathers everyone in a circle on the stage. “So, I’m sorry you guys had to see that.” She’s looking at me especially. “It was beyond disrespectful and inappropriate, and I want you to know that I take this extremely seriously.” She pauses for a moment, and I look at her. And I realize that Ms. Albright is absolutely livid. “So, unfortunately, we’re going to have to end here for the day so I can deal with this. I know this is unexpected, and I apologize to all of you. We’ll pick back up tomorrow.”

Then she walks over to me and squats down in front of my platform. “You okay, Simon?”

I feel myself blush a little bit. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, well,” she says quietly. “Just know that those *s are getting suspended. I’m not even kidding. I will make it my hill to die on.”

Abby, Brianna, and I just stare at her.

It’s the first time I’ve ever heard a teacher cuss.


So, Abby’s stuck at school until the late bus leaves, and I feel really terrible about that. I don’t know. It just feels like all of this is a little bit my fault. But Abby tells me not to be ridiculous, and that she can kill the time by watching the soccer tryouts.

“I’ll come with you,” I say.

“Simon, seriously. Go home and relax.”

“But what if I want to heckle Nick?”


She can’t argue with that. We cut through the science hallway and down the back stairs, toward the music room, where there appears to be some pretty badass drum and guitar business going on behind closed doors. They almost sound professional, except the vocals are strange and random, like the lower part of a harmony. Abby dances to the drumbeat for a minute as we pass, and then we bust out the side door near the soccer fields.

It’s really freaking chilly out, and I have no idea how these soccer kids are surviving with their shorts and bare legs. The girls are on the close field, and it’s dozens of ponytails in motion. We walk past them to get to the boys, who are running around orange cones and kicking soccer balls back and forth to each other. Abby lets her arms hang over the side of the fence, leaning in to watch. A lot of the guys are wearing these long-sleeved spandex shirts under their soccer shirts, and a few of them are wearing shin guards. And they all have those soccer calves. So it’s kind of a nice view.

The coach blows his whistle and all the guys gather around him for a minute while he talks. And then they disperse, passing around bottles of water and dribbling balls and stretching their legs. Nick jogs over to us right away, pink-faced and grinning, and then Garrett and Bram come, too.

“It’s weird that they’re making you try out again,” says Abby.