Second Helpings_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [35]
“I’m not a supporter of the militaristic zero-tolerance policies that are in vogue with school administrators right now,” continued Haviland. “But sometimes I worry that across-the-board punishment is the only way you people will develop a sense of responsibility or accountability for your actions. What do you all think about this?”
Our class was surely thinking of how much we missed the days when all that was required of us on the first day of school were three paragraphs describing “How I Spent My Summer Vacation.”
“I agree with you, Miss H,” said Scotty. “That zero-tolerance stuff is bullshit.”
“Why, Scott! I would be delighted if you elaborated.”
“Okay,” Scotty elaborated. “It sucks.”
Manda—who was sitting behind him—squeezed his shoulders to celebrate her boyfriend’s profundity. While that exact line might settle some of Scotty’s fiercest locker-room debates, it wasn’t going to pass muster with Haviland.
“Why?”
“My ass got hazed when I was a freshman,” he said. “Now I’m a senior. I’m the captain, and it’s payback time.”
Scotty paused, letting the significance sink like a cinder block in a swimming pool.
“So zero tolerance sucks because I can’t touch these freshman punks when they get out of line. I can’t beat any sense into them, and it’s just not fair.”
He leaned back into his chair and held up his palms so P.J. and the rest of Scotty’s disciples could high-five his brilliant contribution to the discussion. Scotty had successfully completed his transformation from jock to jerk-off. Manda quickly smooched the back of his neck. And to think I could have been his girlfriend as recently as a year and a half ago. Unreal.
For a few moments, Haviland stood motionless, undoubtedly counting up her sick days in her head, wondering if they would give her enough to retire now and still earn the maximum pension package.
Thankfully, the bell rang and everyone hopped up to head to the next nonclass. I decided it was the perfect opportunity to introduce myself to Nirvana. I would be first to welcome him to Pineville High. Plus, Marcus would see that his presence had no effect on my mental stability whatsoever. Whatsoever.
“Hi!” I said, in my best approximation of bubbliness. “I’m Jessica. Welcome to Pineville High.”
Nirvana shot a confused look first at me, then at Marcus, who was hovering behind me.
“Um . . .” he stammered. “Um. I . . .”
Wait a second. That monotone, shaky staccato . . .
“Um. Jess. Um. It’s me. Um . . . And.”
Those shaky, nervous “Ums” that punctuate his incomplete sentences . . .
“Um. Len. Um. Levy. Um.”
LEN LEVY???!!!
Jesus Christ! Nirvana wasn’t the New Honors Class Hottie, he was the Old Honors Class Nerd—minus the purple, pus-filled cysts, plus a new haircut. Through some dermatological miracle, he’d been transformed into a porcelain-skinned cutie with a sartorial flair evoking the golden era of Grunge. Just as I made this discovery, I noticed Sara and Manda falling all over each other with laughter.
“Omigod!” Sara shrieked through her cackles. “She totally fell for it!”
Bitches. They set me up.
“Len,” I said, trying to compose myself. “I’m kidding. Of course I recognized you. I didn’t mistake you for someone new. I was just, uh . . .”
There really wasn’t a logical lie. Not one that I could come up with under Marcus’s watchful eye.
“Um,” Len said.
Then he turned away, like he had to cough, then very deliberately cleared his throat, as if to hock up whatever blockage made him stutter. A-heh-heh-heh-hehmmmmmmm.
“Sorry about the zebra, then. That’s intern lingo for an unlikely diagnosis. An old medical school saying goes, ‘If you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras.’ ”
“Uh-huh,” I said, starting to regret my decision to try to make Marcus jealous—I mean, show Marcus I wasn’t affected by him anymore.
Len kept right on going. “So my assumption that you thought that I was a new