Bad Girls in Love by Cynthia Voigt Page B

Louis demanded.
    Mr. Saunders ignored his tone of voice. “It’s you I want to see today.”
    â€œWhy not her?” Louis insisted.
    Mr. Saunders did not like being insisted at. “Because she isn’t the person who also trashed another student, more than once, and more than twice, too. I mean, literally trashed.”
    Louis whipped around to locate Hadrian. “You told! You geek, you squealed!”
    Hadrian looked a little pale, but he didn’t try to hide. And when he spoke, his voice didn’t creak. He sounded like an actor playing George Washington in a patriotic movie, orAbraham Lincoln, somebody whose word you would never even think of doubting, Harrison Ford. Hadrian’s voice sounded deep and grown up, absolutely truthful, and wise, too.
    â€œI wouldn’t,” Hadrian said.
    â€œWhy would I tell?” that voice continued, meaning, You’re so unimportant, why would I bother getting you in trouble?
    â€œAs if,” Louis muttered.
    Mr. Saunders informed him, “It doesn’t matter how I found out, but I can assure you the information didn’t come from Hadrian. I repeat, Louis: I expect you at the end of the day. In my office. You’ll be there?”
    Louis gave up. “Yeah. Is that all?”
    â€œI hope so,” Mr. Saunders said, and then he exited the gym through the big doors, with Louis right behind him.
    The rest of the students dispersed then, mostly talking about Louis Caselli, if he was a real jerk, or a real rebel, or real stupid, or real brave, or what. They left the gym the way passengers leave an aircraft, some hurrying to be ahead of everyone else, some lingering to be last, and most—absent-mindedly—crowding along together between first and last. Mikey lingered, so Margalo lingered with her. Just like last year, they had the same afternoon classes, because they were in the same seminar with the same teacher as last year. Being in the same seminar meant that Mikey and Margalo took earth science together, and the tech courses, too—home ec, industrial arts, computer. Margalo usually reviewed her sciencenotes during those tech classes, while Mikey accused her of trying to get the better grade in science, then went on to accuse her of being overly competitive. “You have everything except math and science to be best at,” Mikey reminded her. “Except sports, too,” Margalo reminded her, and “Except sports,” Mikey agreed. “And cooking.” Mikey nodded. “And these tech courses, all of them,” Margalo reminded her, but Mikey maintained, “That doesn’t mean you can’t let me keep science. I don’t know what’s wrong with you this year. Next thing I know, you’ll be in some A-level math class,” she said, and they both laughed. Margalo and math began with the same letter, but that was as far as it went.
    They had seminar to get to now and books to take from their lockers, but Mikey didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave the gym. She hung around so long that the students from the next class started to drift back into the big room in shorts and T’s. Still Mikey didn’t get herself out the door, even though this was a boys’ gym class—
    And then it all made sense to Margalo. “Let’s go , Mikey,” she urged. “I’m going,” she announced.
    Slowly, Mikey drifted toward the door. Her lingering paid off, because just as they were coming out Shawn was entering. “Hey, Shawn,” Mikey said. And stopped.
    â€œHi,” he answered, moving on into the gym.
    â€œSee you,” Mikey said to his back. She walked on a few slow steps, dragging behind Margalo like some little red wagon. Then she caught up.
    â€œHe didn’t say anything to me,” she told Margalo. “I mean, right after. But he had gym to get changed for. But he could have said something. But he did say hi. But he