group! We’re really getting somewhere now.”
She had to be kidding. I’d expected a million demerit points, demands for apologies, and kids getting a level drop—if they had any levels to go down to, which I didn’t—but apparently not.
“I love the way you all communicated, despite the fight. Those are the first words Jenny has said in group since she came to Heartland eight months ago,” Tina said, smiling. “So here’s your assignment to keep this kind of great progress going: You are all responsible for each other’s actions for the rest of the week. For our two new members, that means for the time being, your mentors and chaperones will now be the people in this room.”
“Yes!” I whispered under my breath. That would get Alisha off my back, thankthefreakinglord.
Tina beamed at me. “Glad you’re so excited about it, Emmy. As a group, you will make sure everyone does their chores, their homework, gets the proper nutrition, and makes it to class on time. If you succeed, you may all have your iPod for one hour this weekend and get an extra ten minutes in the required weekly call to your parents or guardians.”
“And if we don’t?” Justin asked.
“You’ll keep on working as a team until you get it right,” Tina told him.
BACK IN THE ROOM, I WAS EXAMINING MY BRUISES IN THE mirror, and Mohammed was smiling. “I liked the man-whore line,” he said.
“Yeah. Thanks for having my back with the Chipster there,” I said sarcastically as I looked at my arm where the Chipster’s watch, or possibly fingernail, had left a long, slightly bloody scrape.
“Listen. You get yourself into something stupid, you get yourself out. I’m not here to clean up your mess. And I’m not going down a level for anybody. This place is like prison, you know? Do your own time.”
I plopped down on my bed and found that my ass really hurt. No idea how that happened. “Well, according to Tina, we’re allsupposed to support each other and hold each other accountable so we can earn ten more minutes talking to our parents. Which, I mean, wow. Big deal.”
Just like that, Mohammed was up off his bed and standing over me. “It is a big deal. And if you’re the one who screws it up, I’m gonna hurt you in ways you can’t even imagine.”
Normally I’d back down from something like this, but having just mixed it up with Chip, I was feeling all full of testosterone. “What the hell is your problem?” I said, standing up. “You think I’m scared of you ‘cause you’re black or something? You’ve been a total dick ever since I got here, and just when I think we’re having a normal conversation, you go all gangsta on me! What the hell’s your issue?”
Mohammed stared at me for a minute with murder in his eyes. Then he started to smile and laugh. “That was racist in about five different ways,” he said, and sat down on his bed. The crisis had apparently passed, but I wasn’t sure why. Heartland Academy was like the inverse of the real world. Here, you said something racist to a black guy and it
stopped
a fight.
“Do you know anything about Sierra Leone?” he asked.
“Is that in Africa?”
Mohammed smiled. “Yes. It’s in Africa.”
“Okay, well, I guess I know a little more about it now, then,” I said, smiling back a little though I didn’t know exactly where we were going here.
“My mother and I escaped the civil war there. I watched my father die screaming.”
“Oh. Oh shit, man, I …”
“With a burning tire around his neck, begging the rebels to let him live so he could raise his son. I was four years old.”
“Oh my God. I … I mean—”
“So yes, ten minutes of talking to my only living relative on earth means a lot to me. More than you can ever imagine.”
“Oh,” I said quietly. I really wished I had something to do so I didn’t have to focus on feeling like an asshole. This kid had reasons to be angry, reasons to be sad, probably reasons to kill himself. I was
She had to be kidding. I’d expected a million demerit points, demands for apologies, and kids getting a level drop—if they had any levels to go down to, which I didn’t—but apparently not.
“I love the way you all communicated, despite the fight. Those are the first words Jenny has said in group since she came to Heartland eight months ago,” Tina said, smiling. “So here’s your assignment to keep this kind of great progress going: You are all responsible for each other’s actions for the rest of the week. For our two new members, that means for the time being, your mentors and chaperones will now be the people in this room.”
“Yes!” I whispered under my breath. That would get Alisha off my back, thankthefreakinglord.
Tina beamed at me. “Glad you’re so excited about it, Emmy. As a group, you will make sure everyone does their chores, their homework, gets the proper nutrition, and makes it to class on time. If you succeed, you may all have your iPod for one hour this weekend and get an extra ten minutes in the required weekly call to your parents or guardians.”
“And if we don’t?” Justin asked.
“You’ll keep on working as a team until you get it right,” Tina told him.
BACK IN THE ROOM, I WAS EXAMINING MY BRUISES IN THE mirror, and Mohammed was smiling. “I liked the man-whore line,” he said.
“Yeah. Thanks for having my back with the Chipster there,” I said sarcastically as I looked at my arm where the Chipster’s watch, or possibly fingernail, had left a long, slightly bloody scrape.
“Listen. You get yourself into something stupid, you get yourself out. I’m not here to clean up your mess. And I’m not going down a level for anybody. This place is like prison, you know? Do your own time.”
I plopped down on my bed and found that my ass really hurt. No idea how that happened. “Well, according to Tina, we’re allsupposed to support each other and hold each other accountable so we can earn ten more minutes talking to our parents. Which, I mean, wow. Big deal.”
Just like that, Mohammed was up off his bed and standing over me. “It is a big deal. And if you’re the one who screws it up, I’m gonna hurt you in ways you can’t even imagine.”
Normally I’d back down from something like this, but having just mixed it up with Chip, I was feeling all full of testosterone. “What the hell is your problem?” I said, standing up. “You think I’m scared of you ‘cause you’re black or something? You’ve been a total dick ever since I got here, and just when I think we’re having a normal conversation, you go all gangsta on me! What the hell’s your issue?”
Mohammed stared at me for a minute with murder in his eyes. Then he started to smile and laugh. “That was racist in about five different ways,” he said, and sat down on his bed. The crisis had apparently passed, but I wasn’t sure why. Heartland Academy was like the inverse of the real world. Here, you said something racist to a black guy and it
stopped
a fight.
“Do you know anything about Sierra Leone?” he asked.
“Is that in Africa?”
Mohammed smiled. “Yes. It’s in Africa.”
“Okay, well, I guess I know a little more about it now, then,” I said, smiling back a little though I didn’t know exactly where we were going here.
“My mother and I escaped the civil war there. I watched my father die screaming.”
“Oh. Oh shit, man, I …”
“With a burning tire around his neck, begging the rebels to let him live so he could raise his son. I was four years old.”
“Oh my God. I … I mean—”
“So yes, ten minutes of talking to my only living relative on earth means a lot to me. More than you can ever imagine.”
“Oh,” I said quietly. I really wished I had something to do so I didn’t have to focus on feeling like an asshole. This kid had reasons to be angry, reasons to be sad, probably reasons to kill himself. I was
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