In a Flash by Eric Walters Page B

hadn’t she listened to me? She was suspended, and there was nothing I could do about it. Well, there was nothing I could do about the suspension, but still, there might be something I
could
do.

chapter twelve
    The lunch bell rang, and I jumped out of my seat and sprinted out of the room. I was almost in the hall before the ringing stopped echoing off the wall. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and ran along the hall and down the steps, taking them three at a time. I pushed open the door and ran to where Oswald was going to meet me. I didn’t have to wait long. He came charging around the side of the building at a full run.
    He skidded to a stop in front of me.
    â€œAre you sure you want to do this?” he asked.
    â€œPretty sure. The worst thing that can happen is I get suspended.”
    â€œWrong,” Oswald said. “The worst thing that can happen is that
I
get suspended.”
    I couldn’t help but laugh.
    â€œA suspension for me would be a death sentence,” he continued.
    â€œDon’t be such a drama queen.”
    â€œI’m not. My parents would kill me.”
    â€œI’ll make sure that if anybody gets suspended it’s me. I’m totally responsible. We better get moving.”
    We started across the parking lot, toward the bridge.
    â€œI don’t know if I’d be so helpful if she’d written those things about me,” Oswald said.
    â€œThis isn’t about Julia.”
    He snorted. “Sure it’s not.”
    â€œIt isn’t. Besides, even if I wanted to stop it now I don’t think I could. Look around.”
    There was a stream of kids, some infront, but most behind us, heading for the bridge. It looked like there were already thirty or forty people in the field on the other side of the bridge.
    â€œMr. Roberts isn’t going to like this,” Oswald said.
    â€œThat’s the point.”
    I stopped at the bridge, stepping aside, and dropped my backpack to the ground. I opened it up and pulled out the bullhorn I’d borrowed from the gym department. The gym teacher hadn’t asked what I needed it for.
    I put it up to my mouth and pushed the button. It buzzed slightly.
    â€œPlease move across the bridge,” I said. “Make sure you keep all banned items in your bag or in your pockets until you get over the bridge.”
    The lines of people streaming out of the school all came together, funneling into one line to cross the bridge. There were a lot of kids. Hundreds and hundreds. That was good. Well, good if I wanted to get Mr. Roberts’ attention. I guess that was the point of this flash mob.
    Kids kept passing by. I knew a lot of them, but there were a lot I didn’t know. It seemed like everybody knew
me
though. So many kids said hello, or yelled out or just gave me the thumbs-up. Everybody seemed really happy, as if they were heading to a party. That made sense. It was sort of a party.
    Kids kept coming out of the school, but the crest of the wave had already passed by. It was time for me to get over there and start leading.
    â€œCome on,” I said to Oswald. “I wonder how many kids there—”
    â€œI counted over nine hundred,” Oswald replied.
    â€œCome on, you’re kidding, right?”
    â€œNot kidding. Counting is one of my skills. I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”
    â€œSo, nine hundred kids out of a population of less than fifteen hundred is almost two-thirds of the entire school.”
    â€œAlmost, but there are
more
than nine hundred. That doesn’t count the kids who were already over there before I startedcounting, and there are more coming. Probably more like seventy-five percent of the school is already out here. Pretty impressive for less than a day of planning.”
    â€œThe beauty of flash mobs.”
    We crossed the bridge, and I climbed up onto a garbage can, using it like a stage. I put the bullhorn up to my mouth.
    â€œCan I have your