by Obert Skye
I was still a little confused as to why nobody was giving us grief about the grease incident—nothing, not a Wet Willie, or a Slappy Sam, or even a Punch Hug.
At the beginning of our last class, AntiSocial Studies, a girl named Cindy Fargus turned around and looked at me. She was a part-time Fanatic, which meant she terrorized the streets on weekends, but she was still working toward her education during the week. She had never glanced at me before.
“You smell like grease,” she said.
“Thank you?”
Cindy turned back around. She was right. I hadn’t taken a shower this morning. Yes, I had washed my face, but my arms still stank.
I took out a piece of mint gum and rubbed it under my armpits. It was a trick I had learned from watching a No-Privacy-for-YouTube video about deodorant life hacks.
Halfway through AntiSocial Studies, the intercom came to life with a loud crackle. The crackle was followed by the sticky-sweet voice of Darth Susan. I wanted to ignore her, but she was talking about the AV Club.
Everyone around me gulped.
It was never a good thing to be summoned by Darth Susan. It usually meant Correction School or weeding or worse—she’d make you climb up the tower and empty Finn’s toilet bucket.
Everyone was silent as we left the classroom. They knew there was nothing they could say to us that would make us feel worse than we already did. We had almost survived the day, but now we were doomed.
Besides Becky, the hall monitor lizard, there was nobody in sight. Becky roamed the halls nipping at people’s ankles to make sure everyone was in class. Darth Susan let Becky out during class time and took her home with her at night. Becky was her beloved pet.
Every student at WADD hated Becky. She made our school even more miserable than it already was. She also pooped wherever she wanted and tracked it all over. I don’t know if you’re familiar with lizard poop, but it’s disgusting. It’s also no fun to find it on top of your desk or in your gym shoes.
At the moment, Becky was eating a sweater someone had foolishly left in their locker. The smelly lizard didn’t pay attention to us as we tiptoed down the hall toward the office.
“So what do you think Darth Susan wants from us?” I whispered.
“I … don’t … know,” Xen said, beginning to hiccup.
Owen listened to see if he could hear what she was up to. But she wasn’t making any noise.
We walked down Q Hall feeling like inmates on death row.
I could see no way for us to get out of this. We had messed up yesterday and now we were going to have to pay the price.
“Should we notify our parents of our impending death?” Owen asked.
“Mindy could clap at Darth Susan,” Xen suggested. “Maybe she’ll fall apart.”
When we got to the office Darth Susan was behind her desk high on her throne. She smiled down at all of us and then asked us to sign our names in the office logbook. Darth Susan was not only horrible, but she was organized and loved to do all the little things that made her office feel like a real school office. After we had signed in, she looked down at us and sighed.
“Such troublemakers,” she said. “Principal Woth is very concerned about you four. He feels you’re disrupting the learning of the other WADD students.”
“He does?” I asked, surprised that Principal Woth had any opinion of us at all.
“Well, I can’t be sure,” she continued, “seeing how the principal and I rarely speak. He’s a busy man, running the school from wherever he’s hiding. The point is I have something I need the four of you to do.”
“What is it?” Owen asked.
“Tomorrow, as you know, the school will be taking the SLAP.”
Of course we knew about the SLAP: Finn had been crying about it for weeks. It was a nationwide test that the government made all students take. SLAP stood for Stop Learning and Panic. So all Staffers were forced to stop teaching for a day and start worrying about how we’d do. Depending on the school’s test performance, the school could get more supplies and money.
Everyone except us Geeks hated the test—for us it was a chance to show off. Of course we never got credit for doing well; in fact we were never even told our scores. Maybe that was why we’d been called in. Maybe we weren’t in trouble, and she just wanted to give us an award. Maybe we were finally going to get the credit we deserved. Or maybe monkeys were going to fly down from the sky out of cloud butts and start handing everyone money and food.
Actually, the monkey thing seemed more likely to happen than Darth Susan being nice to us.
“Do you know why you’re here?” she asked.
“Body odor?” Owen guessed. “’Cause I didn’t take a shower last night.”
Darth Susan shook her head in disgust. She looked like my mom when my dad told her that we were out of toilet paper and would have to start using leaves again.
“You’re not here because of body odor,” she said sweetly. “If that was the problem, the whole school would be on lockdown. You’re here because tomorrow is the SLAP, and last year the four of you got perfect scores, the highest in the district.”
“Thank you,” Mindy said, blushing.
“I don’t want a thank-you,” Darth Susan snapped. “I brought you here to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
Most of the time, high scores are good. Even in our messed-up society, a lot of people still want good grades. The government is always going on and on about how important it is for us to be smarter than the rest of the world. And getting good grades is what we Geeks excel at. As the AV Club, all we do is push carts around and deliver projectors and electricity pods. Sometimes we set up microphones or are in charge of the spotlight during the lice patrol.
Doing well on tests—that is definitely our thing.
“You don’t want us to do well on the test?” I asked Darth Susan.
“Actually, I insist that you fail.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s the spirit, Xen,” she said with a smile. “Just keep playing dumb.”
My school never ceased to disturb me.
Darth Susan explained that, for the sake of our school, we had to fail the test. Last year she had kept our four tests and not turned them in to the district. She had even taken them home and burned them to destroy all evidence. But this time the District Compound was sending an official Pep Liaison to administer the test and make sure every student took it.
“What’s a Pep Liaison?” Xen asked Darth Susan.
“Annoying” was her only answer.
I knew what a Pep Liaison was. For fun last summer I had studied the government’s book of officials—now I knew everyone, from the Drone Mayor to the Vice President of Chaos. The Pep Liaison worked at the District Compound and was in charge of making sure all schools acted happy, even when times were bad, which was all the time. He also made sure students were taking the SLAP and that they weren’t complaining or cheating.
I guess the country was having a real problem with people cheating in all seventy-three states. Schools desperately wanted to get extra funding from the government of the Somewhat United, Sort of Divided States of America, also known as the SUSDSA.
According to Darth Susan most schools weren’t cheating to make themselves look better, they were cheating to make themselves look worse. The low-scoring schools got most of the funds. They also got tons of extras, like fireproof desks and attack-proof port-a-potties.
I used to think that Otto Waddle Jr. High Government Outpost was above cheating. I also used to think that expired milk wouldn’t give you the slipperies.
Darth Susan had more to say. “WADD wouldn’t have the supplies we now have if the district had seen your scores last year. So you all must fail this test.”
“But—” I tried to say.
“No butts, rears, or derrieres,” she insisted. “Tomorrow’s test is the most important one in the history of this school. The reward for the lowest score is going to be ours. Do you
understand?”
All four of us stared at her.
“Let me ask you something,” she continued. “Why do you think everyone ignored you today?”
We kept staring.
“A day after you made fools of yourselves in front of the whole school, and nobody’s picking on you. Who do you think made that happen?”
More staring.
“I’ll tell you—it’s because I instructed every Staffer to make sure you’re left alone. They’ve let every student know that, for the moment, you’re off-limits. And if you fail the test like good children, then you’ll remain off-limits. But, if you decide to be troublemakers and do your best, then I’m afraid I can’t be responsible for how people treat you. Understand? Passing is bad; failing is good.”
I could see that Mindy was holding her hands together and fighting the urge to clap at Mrs. Susan.
“I’ll take your silence as a yes. Now just come to school tomorrow prepared to be losers.”
We left her office and stepped into the hall. Owen was the first to speak up.
“I wonder what kind of supplies the lowest school gets this year. I mean, splimp! They must be incredible for Darth Susan to try to bribe us.”
“Yeah,” Xen said. “We should find out.”
“That sounds like the perfect first case for LAME,” I whispered. “After class, let’s meet at the Geek Cave.”
“What if the spiders are still in there?” Xen asked.
“I’ll borrow a flamethrower from shop class,” Owen volunteered. “If there are any left, that’ll clear them all out.”
Becky the lizard spotted us and began to gallop in our direction. She was looking for some ankles to bite and had some feces, which is an above-average way of saying poop, to share.
“Move!” I shouted.
We all began to run.
The running probably wasn’t necessary. Becky had spotted some Loners loitering at the end of Q Hall, and she was already moving away from us to monitor the situation.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Branded
After school we headed to the dark and sticky cafeteria. There were a few Goths hanging around the entrance, but we got rid of them by saying there was a sale on black nail polish down at Wargreens. They took off as fast as they could while still looking mopey.
We walked through the empty cafeteria and hopped over the counter into the kitchen. Owen had not been able to borrow a flamethrower, but he did have a small torch. Once we were standing in front of the pots and pans cabinet, he lit the torch, and me and Xen moved the cabinet out from the wall.
The Geek Cave looked particularly dark.
“Who’s checking for spiders?” I asked.
“I suggest that Owen does,” Xen said. “Since he’s already holding the torch.”
“You can hold it.” Owen tried to hand it to Xen.
“Here,” Mindy said.
She grabbed the torch and bent down to scoot into the room.
“It’s all clear,” she yelled back. “No spiders!”
The rest of us bravely crawled in.
The torch lit the Geek Cave nicely. I’d been worried that we would be smoked out, but there was a vent in the low ceiling that allowed all the smoke from the flame to evacuate the room. The three empty tin cans were still there, and the fourth one that had contained the goo was now empty as well. Whatever had been in the can and splashed on the floor was gone. It had either been eaten by mice or it had evaporated, which is an above-average way of saying something in a way that Nerf and his friends don’t understand.
We set up the four large tin cans, and each of us took a seat on one.
There was a lot for us to think about, but most importantly we needed to figure out what the reward was for our school failing the SLAP. That meant LAME would have to sneak into Darth Susan’s office.
It took some thinking, but we finally decided on a plan of action. First, we would leave the Geek Cave. Second, Owen would listen for trouble as we approached the office. Third, when we reached the office, Mindy would clap the door hinges open. And fourth, I would climb up to Darth Susan’s desk and use my ability to start her computer. Hopefully there would be information there that told us what the school would get and why she so desperately wanted WADD to fail the test.
To be honest, there was a part of me that thought it might be best to just go ahead and fail the test. I really liked it when the school ignored us. It made for a much more enjoyable learning environment. Not a single person had bothered me that day. Even Nerf pretended I wasn’t there.
We hunkered down in the dark room until everyone had cleared out of the school for the day. It was a known fact that Darth Susan didn’t like to stay around when the day was over. She liked to leave the instant Finn cried out.
She claims that she must leave quickly because Becky needs to get home to feed. But we all know that she really wants to get as far away from us as possible and as fast as she can. Darth Susan dislikes us almost as much as we dislike her. She’s always talking about retirement and wishing she could be done with us.
With WADD finally empty, we snuck through the halls. Each of us took turns asking Owen if he could hear anything. His answer was always the same.
“What?”
Near the end of Z Hall, Owen held his arm out to stop us and whispered, “There’s someone around the corner.”
We ducked behind the closest book barrier and held our breath.
Book barriers are made up of old books that nobody reads. The books are nailed and stapled together to form a big pile. People use them to hide from enemies or surprise government inspectors, or for protection from anything that might be flying through the air.
We tried to see who Owen had heard, but there was no one. Thirty seconds later, Tyler the janitor came walking down the hall. He was pushing a broom and tracking mud all over the floor with his dirty shoes.
Nobody was supposed to hang around after school. If caught, we’d be kicked out or Tyler would make us help him clean. Either way, our plan would be spoiled.
My heart was beating a million miles a minute. Which I know is an inaccurate and impossible thing for a heart to do, but the moment called for a little dramatic embellishment. I could hear Owen sweating, because he makes a low crackly noise when he does.
“Splimp, I’m sweating like a sun orc,” he whispered.
“Actually,” Xen corrected Owen, “sun orcs don’t sweat—they drip.”
I wanted to point out that they were both wrong. Everyone knows that the sun orcs from the Orc in the Road graphic novels don’t sweat or drip; they leak. But there wasn’t time to argue about things like that right now.
Tyler stopped and swiveled his trash-can-covered head. He looked around the hall, shrugged, and then kept on walking. Either he hadn’t seen us, or he had seen us and just didn’t care. We all stayed behind the barrier for a couple of minutes until we were sure the coast was clear.
Once everything was silent, we slipped out from behind the barrier and started walking toward the office.
“Wait,” Xen said. “While we were cowering behind those books, I drew up a quick logo for our group.”
“What?” Mindy asked.
“As manager, I feel we need a logo. It’s called branding.”
“Don’t you think we should talk about that later?” I whispered.
Xen looked hurt.
“Fine,” I apologized.
We all stopped walking and took a quick look at what Xen had drawn.
“I like it,” Mindy said.
“Yeah, it’s really good,” I agreed. “Now, can we go?”
“Thanks,” Xen replied. “I just think things will be more official now that we have a logo.”
The four of us, plus our logo, set off to complete our quest.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Hiding for a Cause
The door to Darth Susan’s office was locked. Mindy clapped her hands near the door’s hinges, and the doorknob cracked and then fell
off. It wasn’t what Mindy meant to do, but it worked. It was dark inside the office, but we couldn’t risk turning on the lights. Now I just needed to climb up the desk throne to Darth Susan’s desk.
“Luck is an abstract concept that only simpleminded people believe in,” I whispered back.
“That’s what I meant,” Mindy added.
I’m not positive here, but I think we were flirting.
I began scaling the desks, knowing that if anyone found us, I would be the one in the most trouble. After all, I was on top of Mrs. Susan’s sacred pile of desks. We were forbidden to touch her stuff, let alone climb it.
When I got to the top, I stopped to take a look at the view. I could see the dark forms of my friends down below, and it finally made sense to me why Darth Susan sat up so high. I felt powerful and better than all the little people beneath me.
“It’s pretty cool up here,” I whispered loudly.
“Stop looking down at us and start snooping,” Xen whispered loudly back.
I pulled open the desk drawers to see if there were any clues, but they were just filled with a bunch of the supplies Darth Susan was hoarding. I was tempted to swipe a few pens and a roll of toilet paper, but I didn’t think that was something a superhero should do.
Darth Susan’s computer required a government-issued key to start it. Luckily, all I had to do was think about her computer being on and it flashed to life. Still, it required a password to open the files. My friends offered up their suggestions.
“Selfish1.”
“LizardLover.”
“Born2BAwful.”
I appreciated the suggestions, but I decided to try one of my own.
IH8KIDS
It worked. I sat down on her desk chair and started typing.
Darth Susan had a number of files and folders on her computer’s desktop screen. One folder was labeled LIZARD FACTS, and another contained the instructions for making your own beetle jerky. There was one that said PALS and another that said SCHOOL ATTENDANCE RECORDS. There were a lot of files, but I couldn’t see any for the SLAP test.