Slob - Ellen Potter [50]
“I can’t hear what you’re saying,” Mr. Wooly said.
Arthur started again, a little more loudly but not loud enough.
“What? What are you mumbling about?” Mr. Wooly said.
This was all working out so well, I could have hugged Arthur, I really could have. Time was ticking away.
All of a sudden Jeremy stepped forward. It was a big step. A decisive step. It was the step of a soon-to-be GWAB president.
“We, the members of GWAB, demand to be recognized by our true identities . . .”
It was the GWAB statement they had been working on. Jeremy recited it very well in a loud clear voice that Mr. Wooly could completely understand. The only problem with the speech, from my perspective, was that it wouldn’t go on long enough. Still, I calculated that there would be plenty more time wasted while Mr. Wooly tried to get them to leave voluntarily (good luck with that), then called someone in to forcibly escort them out, then waited for said person to arrive, etc. It was all shaping up perfectly.
I glanced over at Mason to see if he was as happy about this new development as I was. He didn’t seem to be. He wasn’t even looking at Jeremy and Wooly. Instead he was concentrating on something in the far corner of the gymnasium ceiling. I followed his glance, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what was so interesting up there.
“. . . demand to be included in the boys’ section of gym class and to—”
“You’re Birnbaum’s sister, aren’t you?” Mr. Wooly interrupted her.
My happiness screeched to a grinding halt.
For the first time since she’d walked in, Jeremy looked unsure of herself. She was silent for a moment, and I could see her blinking a little too quickly. If she said “No” it would crush me. But I also felt nervous about her saying “Yes.”
No good could come of this, I was sure.
Jeremy jerked her head quickly to one side, which was a gesture she often made to swish her long hair off her shoulder. Of course now there was nothing to swish.
“Owen’s my brother,” she said cautiously.
“Well, that’s just marvelous!” Mr. Wooly slapped his hands together. “Perfect timing! All right, let’s get on with business.”
“But I didn’t finish,” Jeremy objected.
“Oh, I got the gist. You all want to be treated like boys, blabbedy blah. All right, today is your lucky day. You gals will be our honored guests. Where’s the kid with the camera? You’re recording all this for posterity, right?”
“For my video blog, The Universe According to Sybil,” Sybil Tushman said.
“Even better! Well then come up front by me, that’s right. You’ll get a better view of the action from here.” He ushered Sybil up front with the greatest respect, guiding her past all the obstacles on the floor.
“Today, ladies”—now he meant all of us—“we have a special treat. Because Mr. Birnbaum and Mr. Ragg were unable to complete the triathlon on Friday, I’ve organized a special event just for them. I hope the members of GLOB enjoy this demonstration, as well as”—he flourished a hand toward Sybil—“the fans of your video thing. Do you have a lot of fans, by the way?”
“A decent amount,” Sybil said.
“Nice,” Mr. Wooly said, smiling. By tonight, most of the school would be watching me tripping over hurdles and flopping around on a trampoline. Rachel Lowry included. Things couldn’t have worked out better for Mr. Wooly if he had planned The Blue and White Rebellion himself. I wondered if my good karma points had been revoked and been transferred to Mr. Wooly. I couldn’t imagine any other way that he might have gotten his hands on some good karma.
I looked over at Jeremy. She was staring back at me, her expression full of something big, but what? Fear, anger? I couldn’t tell.
Well, Jeremy, I thought, now you are going to see it firsthand. This is what my life is like. This is who I am now. The big, fat kid. Fatty Fatty Ding Dong.
You’re not Caitlin anymore, and I’m not Owen. Not that Owen anyway. Not the Owen