The canteen, turned into a disco, looks like the school square: completely empty in the middle. Most of the boys are huddled together, pressed against the walls, far away from the specks of light moving slowly over the floor like predators searching for their prey. They do so with their usual air of nonchalance and disinterest, but I know better. They’re scared to death, and rightfully so. I know I would be.
Their physical and emotional development over the last few years has lagged dramatically compared to that of their female classmates. While the girls have grown into mini-women with breasts, hips, and an excessive interest in the opposite sex, the boys are still what they’ve always been: kids who just want to play soccer. They have no idea what to do with this new, hormone-fueled attention. So they do the only thing they can do: hide as far away as possible in the darkest corners of the canteen and hope they won’t be asked to dance by one of the girls clustered at the entrance—a tangled mass dominated by pink dresses, pearl necklaces, uncomfortable high heels, and painfully high-pitched chatter. No one can escape; the girls are strategically positioned at the entrance for a reason.
John-James, the designated DJ for this night, doesn’t care that the dance floor is empty. Safely hidden behind his wall of equipment, he plays music solely for his own satisfaction, like most DJs. Song after song booms offensively loud and completely undanceable throughout the room.
I'm not a boy, yet here I am, hiding in a corner even darker than the rest. Thanks to Shadow’s talent, we finally have the chance to discuss the events that took place before the weekend. Believe it or not, despite the omnipresence of smartphones, we haven’t been able to do so until now. I have an old, not-so-smart phone that’s practically useless at home because we live fifteen kilometers outside the city, where there’s barely any signal. I’m pretty sure Shadow doesn’t even own a phone, and as for Slug? I’ve never seen him use one. Gnat, on the other hand, seems to have six or more, but I’m not really sure why. He’s so obsessively protective of his privacy that he won’t even share a single one of those numbers with us.
The weekend felt like it would never end after everything that happened. Maybe I could have shared my worries and confusion with Gran, but the gap between us has only grown wider since I found out about the things she’s kept from me over the years. And my father? I did my best. I really did. I tried to see him through the vice principal’s eyes, to recognize the young, charming scallywag everyone once loved. But that image is so far removed from my own experience that it had the opposite effect. And my mother? Well... I thought she was dead, but now... somehow... she isn’t?
“Damn,” Gnat whispers, anxiously glancing over his shoulder at the flock of girls near the entrance, from which one of the pink mini-adults, named Cecilia-Louise, steps away and crosses the empty dance floor, her eyes locked on a boy sitting on the other side. “They really can’t see us, right?” Shadow has a big smile on her face. “No, but if you want, I can make us a bit more… visible.”
“No, please. Do you want to kill me?” Gnat looks so genuinely frightened that I have to laugh and chime in.
“No worries, Casanova. I don’t think you’re in any danger—they must have some minimum standards, right?”
“Maybe you should get a pink glitter hairband yourself, Sulferhead. It would go wonderfully with your torn jeans and dirty T-shirt.” I only smile. I’ve come to love our prickly, contentious way of communicating.
In the meantime, Cecilia-Louise drags Gregory-George onto the dance floor. He looks pleadingly at his best friend, disc jockey J-J, for help. But with a malicious grin, J-J puts on the first slow dance song of the evening. Cecilia-Louise doesn’t hesitate for a second; she grabs G-G in some kind of chokehold and starts moving her hips. Next to me, a low, terrified hiss escapes Gnat.
"Enough fun. It’s time to get serious," I come to his rescue. "We have a problem. We need a plan."
“A plan to do what?” Shadow asks softly. “I still don’t really understand. We were done, right? She has the list now.”
I don't respond right away, savoring the fact that they believed my account of what happened before the weekend without questioning it, at least for a little longer. Even if they didn't really have another choice, having seen the wretched state I was in and after hearing Slug’s eyewitness account, I take it as a sign of the trust and friendship we've built by now.
“We need to find Kwant.” I finally say. “There seems to be something wrong with the list, and he's the only one who can figure out what.”
“We... need... more... time...” Slug is right, of course. But where are we supposed to find an extra hour—or even a minute—in our packed school schedule? The spare hour we had thanks to Kwant’s absence has suddenly disappeared over the weekend. It is replaced by social studies or whatever it’s called, much to Gnat’s chagrin. He thinks social studies is the most pointless of all the pointless classes.
So, unless Slug has suddenly gained more control over his talent, I have no idea where we’re supposed to find more time.
“Maybe... we... should... try... to...”
“What an excellent idea, Robert,” Shadow responds enthusiastically, as always knowing what he wants to say before he’s finished. “We need to do it at night.”
“What?” I react way too loud, almost giving away our hiding place.
“What?” I repeat in a hushed voice. “Break into the best-guarded and most protected school in the world? Every day, this building is searched by a small army of uniformed men and women, accompanied by a kennel of dogs. Are you out of your mind?” Surely Gnat, the master of paranoia, will back me up. But his reaction is completely unexpected.
“Let’s do it,” he says with a malicious smile.
“What?”
“You’re not afraid, are you, Thunderhead?”
“Gnat, it’s impossible to get into the school, and even if we succeed, we’ll never get out.”
“Blah, blah. Chicken.”
“I’m just being sens—”
“Tock, tock, tock. Chiiiiicken.”
“Stop that! I’m not a chicken!”
“Of course you are. You don’t have the guts.”
That does it. I know I’m taking the bait, but nobody calls me chicken, especially not this scrawny shrimp. “Okay, then. If you know a way to get into the school undetected, I’ll go looking for Kwant… at night.” A safe bluff. Breaking into this school is impossible. But when I see the smile grow on his smug, posh face, my shoulders slump. I’ve been set up, even if I don’t yet know how.
“Good,” he says, with only a hint of triumph in his voice, which I appreciate. “The next question is when.” My shoulders slump. I’ve been set up, even if I don’t yet know how. I glance over my shoulder at the entrance. Suddenly, being part of the pink ribbon armada, whose biggest worry is how to drag scared little boys onto the dance floor, seems quite appealing. G-G and Anne Marie are sitting in a far corner across the room by now. G-G’s arms stick awkwardly out from behind Cecilia’s voluptuous body. Brrr. No, never! I turn back to the other three.
“Okay, then. How?”