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there. Let’s give them a big laugh to show them that at least we think they’re funny.”
    The audience cheered loudly. Jessica and Polly turned beet red and buried their faces in their knees. Michael burst out laughing.
    “But since I am here,” Sara continued, “I do have a few things I’d like to say. First, I don’t think you should vote for anybody who’s spoken this afternoon. They all struck me as a bunch of insecure idiots, looking to get their egos stroked. Second, I don’t believe we need student officers at all. What do they do? I’ll tell you. Nothing! And finally, I don’t know who out there stole the chewing gum from my locker, but I hope you choke on it. Thank you.”
    Sara received a standing ovation and thunderous applause. She walked back to her place as though she were just another spectator taking her seat. But she grinned when she reached her friends.
    “How did I do?” she asked.
    “You’ll probably be expelled,” Polly said.
    “Or elected,” Jessica said.
    “I think your girlfriend’s right,” Bubba whispered in Michael’s ear.

Chapter Three
    Nick Grutler did not go to the mall for lunch nor did he attend the afternoon assembly. He didn’t own a car to drive anywhere, and no one had told him about the election. Indeed, although Nick had been in school every day since Monday, no one at Tabb had even spoken to him outside of class, and that included his teachers. Nick Grutler was six feet four, wiry as a hungry animal, and as black as midnight. No one had spoken to him for the simple reason that they were afraid of him.
    Tabb High had several black students—four to be exact, two girls and two boys—but none of them was a recent transfer from East L.A. where youth gangs ruled. None of them had the pentup emotion that came from having to master the use of a switchblade by age twelve just to survive. Nick had not killed anybody—no one he had been forced to stab, at least, had died in his presence—but he had seen more violence than most war vets. And he had always hated it, and worse—in his own mind, for someone of his size and strength—had been afraid of it. None of teachers that had yet to speak to him had noticed that the new boy from the other side of the city who sat so still during class actually had tremors beneath his skin. Nick had a lot he wished he could forget.
    But it was his intention to forget, or if that was not possible, at least to put the past behind him. He considered the new job his divorced father had landed in a nearby aerospace firm as a gift from above. Another summer in East L.A. like the past one, Nick knew, probably would have seen him killed. On the other hand, Tabb High was no paradise either, so far.
    He was enrolled as a senior, but he had to admit to himself that he hardly qualified as a freshman in this part of town. He was going to have to read the textbooks they had given him. He was going to have to learn to read.
    He had absolutely no one to talk to. The white kids at school were all caught up in things that he had always imagined were just for TV characters. They went to the beach and parties and worried about what they were going to wear to the next dance. In a way they were like children to him. They had never stared down the barrel of a sawedoff shotgun and been ordered to kiss cold metal. They had lived incredibly sheltered lives. And yet, they were lightyears beyond him. They knew all kinds of stuff. They could get up in front of a whole class and speak what was on their minds. They had nice clothes, nice cars, and lots of money. They could laugh at the drop of a hat. He had spent Monday through Thursday feeling superior to them. But now that it was Friday, he realized he was jealous—and all alone.
    His counselor had put him in sixth period P.E., where all the athletes were. The only connection Nick had had with any sport was basketball. He used to play in a lot of pickup games in the inner city. Of course, basketball season was