He brought his thick flippers together in a dull drumbeat that went on and on until the faculty took the hint and picked it up; finally students joined in with ragged applause.
“I would like to take this moment to convey my deepest disappointment in you all,” Major rumbled. “The fundamental core values of Albemarle Academy are embodied in our motto: Faith and Honor. This morning you all have broken faith with me.”
Major was always disappointed in everyone. It was his sole emotional state. He was thick-waisted and gray: gray hair, gray skin, gray eyes, gray tongue, gray lips. He had attended Albemarle as a boy and been either a teacher or the principal for more than three decades, and in all that time he’d been disappointed in every single student who'd passed through his doors.
“The school year has barely begun and already there are incidents of vandalism in the Senior Hut,” he rumbled on, crushing all those who whispered before him. “There have been students parking in the senior lot without the proper sticker clearly visible in their windows. Students have been seen smoking on campus. Starting this afternoon, the Senior Hut is closed for the duration of the semester. I’ve spoken to the hut advisor, Mr. Groat, who agrees with my decision.”
There was a pause. The air felt charged.
“Also,” Major continued, “anyone found parking in the senior lot without the appropriate sticker on his or her vehicle will receive a suspension. Discipline . . .” Whispering was breaking out through the rows. Coach Greene moved up the aisle, writing down names. “Settle. Discipline is the training that makes punishment unnecessary. Let us now sing our alma mater.”
Mrs. Gay scurried to the upright piano at the foot of the stage and started banging it out while Major, Coach Greene, and Father Morgan, the new chaplain, rose and sang. The faculty and student body hauled themselves to their feet and joined in. Abby was probably the only person in the auditorium who knew all the words, but she mumbled through the verses, the same as everyone around her. The room swelled with atonal chanting as the student body sang the praises of their school with all the joy of prisoners breaking rocks.
Abby, Glee, and Margaret regrouped immediately afterward. Everyone was abuzz, scattered in clumps across the Lawn. Rumors were flying that Major was going to cancel the homecoming dance, or Spirit Week, or tear down the Senior Hut, or he was going to murder everyone’s parents and give them all Saturday School. No one could tell what he would do next. The man was insane.
The three girls, however, were worried about Gretchen. They’d gone directly to the front office the second that assembly ended, but Miss Toné, the upper school secretary, kicked them right back out again. They retreated to the Lawn and sat where they could see the office door. They watched it with so much attention, it was surprising it didn’t burst into flames. They saw Major go inside. They saw him go into his office, with Gretchen. They saw him snap his venetian blinds shut. They stared at the front office door, barely talking. They needed to see Gretchen the second she emerged.
“What’s up, space cadets?” Wallace Stoney said, dropping to the grass between Margaret and Glee and sticking his tongue down Margaret’s throat.
“You guys,” Glee said. “Gag me. For real.”
Face still latched onto Wallace’s mouth-hole, Margaret flipped Glee the bird while she put her legs over his lap and kept feeding him her tongue.
“Very mature,” Glee said.
Abby was sure it was crazy awesome to have someone hot for your body all the time, but now wasn’t the time to show off your killer romance by scrumping in the middle of the Lawn.
“What did you do to Gretchen?” she asked Wallace.
“You were right there,” he said, detaching from Margaret. “Get the fucking makeup out of your eyes. She’s clearly dreaming about me touching her, because she can’t stop talking about it.”
“She’s been in there for half an hour because of you,” Abby said. “You should tell what you did.”
“You should mind your own fucking business,” Wallace said calmly. “Your little bone buddy is a psycho, why’s that my fault?”
They ignored him because Gretchen was finally coming out of the front office. She trudged over and plonked down next to Abby, not even looking at Wallace.
“What happened?” Glee asked. “You were in there for, like, three hours.”
Margaret wiped Wallace’s spit off her chin. Then she broke off half her Carnation breakfast bar and handed it to Gretchen. She was only too happy to give away solid food that contained actual calories.
“What did that buttmunch say to you?” she asked.
Gretchen started breaking Margaret’s breakfast bar into crumbs, letting them fall on the grass. “He just talked,” she said. “Mostly about faith and honor, and how there’s a war in America for the souls of its children or something. I stopped listening. He wanted to know if I was on drugs.”
“Yeah,” Wallace said. “Stupid pills.”
Everyone ignored him.
“What’d you say?” Margaret asked. She harbored an irrational fear that Gretchen might have narced on all of them.
“I told him Coach Greene didn’t have anything to say that I needed to hear. Then he told me I needed to apologize to her before I could return to volleyball practice. Then I told him that was fine because I’m quitting the team.”
The three of them stared at her in horror. When you got in trouble, you tried to make it better; you didn’t make it worse. Wallace Stoney barked a seal laugh.
“You are so hosed!” he cackled.
“What did he do?” Abby asked.
“He gave me detention,” Gretchen said. “For disrespect.”
“Smooth move, Wretched.” Wallace laughed again. “You really boned that up.”
“For real?” Abby asked in disbelief. How could Gretchen just walk off the volleyball team and leave her behind? “If you quit the team, your parents are going to kill you.”
Gretchen shrugged. Then Wallace came in again, commandeering the conversation, not even noticing that no one was laughing.
“Are you on the rag?” he asked. “Is that why you tried to get me in trouble?”
“Wallace,” Gretchen said quietly, “stop being a pig.”
Everyone held their breath for a minute, waiting for Margaret to react.
“Stop being a dumb whore,” Wallace shot back, laughing, the big senior man swatting down the sophomore.
“You don’t have to pretend to be tough with us,” Gretchen said. “We all know about the first time you and Margaret did it. You didn’t last five seconds.”
She was staring at Wallace now, hands clenched around her shins, chin tucked behind her knees. No one was laughing, no one even dared to move. This was a total secret that Margaret had told them, and they all knew they were not supposed to ever repeat it ever. The scar over Wallace’s upper lip turned white.
Margaret tore out a clump of grass and threw it at Gretchen. “What’s your malfunction?” she snapped.
“I’m just being honest with Mr. Stud Muffin,” Gretchen said. “He’s a poser. He can’t do it without being wasted, and he picks on Abby because she’s too nice to fight back. I’m tired of being polite to him.”
“At least I’m not an ice queen virgin bitch,” Wallace snarled at Gretchen, sitting up straight, pushing Margaret’s legs off his lap.
Gretchen didn’t miss a beat.
“At least I don’t sniff my sister’s underwear.”
Wallace lunged for her, hands outstretched. Glee and Abby screamed. Everyone on the Lawn looked over, and even the bocce players stopped tossing their balls to stare. Margaret jumped on Wallace’s back and knocked him away from Gretchen, who propelled herself backward on the grass, crab-style.
“Fuck you, skank!” Wallace roared, standing up as best he could with Margaret hanging off him.
“You wish,” Gretchen said.
Abby and Glee were frozen. Wallace Stoney sniffed his sister’s underwear?