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with a wide-open face that looks like he never gets mad. “First, some teacher who don’t like your black ass just ’cause it’s black tells you you got a ’tude, and you best be gettin’ here to Mr. Nak’s early mornin’ ‘tude-fixin’ class or you won’t be comin’ back to school, in which case you won’t never get no diploma, in which case you won’t never get no job, in which case you’re gonna end up in prison like your older brother done. Then, since you can’t be lettin’ no midget shiny-head algebra teacher be your fortune-teller, you say, ‘Hey nigger, don’ be predictin’ my life ’til you got one a’ your own,’ and then they haul you away, and you show up here ’cause youwanna grow up to be a productive citizen of this here raggedy United States.” He looked at Mr. Nak and smiled. Most everyone else laughed.
    Mr. Nak said, “That’s pretty good, Shu, but I was hopin’ for somethin’ a little more general.” He turned to this kid named Elvis, who everyone in school knows out of self-defense. Elvis is one of those guys who started shaving in junior high, and then started using the straight razor he shaved with to take everybody’s lunch money. He’s a big guy, runs about two-thirty, I’d say; kind of fat, but with plenty of muscle underneath, homemade tattoos on all the parts of his body he could reach, and the permanent expression of a pit bull about fifteen seconds before a fight. “Elvis,” Mr. Nak said, “you wanna take a shot at it?”
    Elvis just glared, trying to stare a hole in Mr. Nak.
    â€œGuess not,” Mr. Nak said, and turned back to me. “Me an’ Elvis are learnin’ each other’s body language,” he said. “Don’t worry, Brewster, I’ll find somebody who knows what’s goin’ on here.” He glanced around the room, his gaze falling on the girl from the weight room. “Shelly,” he said. “Maybe you can pull me outta the mud here.” But Shelly said, “I don’t feel like talking today, Mr. Nak. Could you ask someone else?”
    Mr. Nak said, “Anybody want to go for it?” and everybody studied the floor. He smiled and looked back atme. “Don’t write my letter of recommendation just yet. Only been at this a short while. I’ll give you the lowdown.” He clasped his fingers around one knee and rocked back on the desktop. “Everbody here is pissed off about somethin’, and everbody’s done something while they were pissed off that got ’em here. Now, what it is that everbody’s pissed off about is a secret. My job is to find that secret. Any questions?”
    I said nope.
    â€œSo make my job easy. What’re you pissed off about, Brewster?”
    He caught me by surprise, so I said, “I’m not pissed off about anything.”
    â€œReally? You takin’ this course for credit?”
    â€œWell, no.”
    â€œSo how’d you get here?”
    Shuja laughed and whispered loud behind his hand, “Tell ’em you come in a limo.”
    I laughed back, kind of nervous like, and said, “I got into trouble with Mr. Redmond.”
    â€œWhat did you do?”
    I hesitated, glancing around the room. Then, “I called him an asshole.”
    Spontaneous applause broke out, Lar, no kidding. Mr. Nak smiled. “Sounds like maybe you spoke for the masses.I think you’re gonna fit right in here.”
    Everyone stopped clapping except this really weird-looking kid with long hair and a headband, wearing a University of Washington T-shirt so dirty it looked like a year-old dust rag, and bell-bottom pants. He just shook his head and chuckled and slapped his hands together like none of the rest of us was even there. “Called Redmond an asshole,” he said, over and over. “Called Redmond an asshole. Whooeee. Called