The Detention Club by David Yoo Page A

sound the alarm bells too early, but it might be time to start thinking about running away,” Drew suggested.
    â€œI don’t think we’re there yet, but I’ll take your suggestion under consideration.”
    â€œThere goes another scheme down the drain. . . . I can’t believe this is happening to us,” he said. “Do you think we’re being punished for something?”
    â€œYou mean by God?” I asked. Drew nodded. “I don’t think so. We didn’t do anything wrong. And I go to church every Easter. That better count for something. Where’s this coming from, anyway?”
    â€œWe were popular last year. Maybe that’s why this is happening.”
    â€œBeing popular isn’t a crime. And we weren’t mean to people like they are to us. I was always nice to Carson, for example. Remember that time in fifth grade when I let him eat some of my Tater Tots at lunch?”
    Drew’s eyes lit up.
    â€œI remember that day,” he said. “He didn’t even ask, you just offered them to him totally out of the blue. You didn’t have to do that.”
    â€œI know, I was being nice!” I said.
    â€œSo, what then? Is it just bad luck?”
    I shrugged my shoulders.
    â€œI have to pee,” Drew said.
    â€œDo you tell me that because you know it’s going to make me have to pee, too, or do you just really want me to know?”
    Drew thought about it for a second.
    â€œI guess a bit of both.”
    I sighed. We ditched our lunch trays and went to the bathroom off the lobby. Of course, the Sweet brothers were standing by one of the sinks, filling it with wet paper towels.
    â€œHey, boys, we’ve been looking for you two!” Hank said.
    â€œDo these guys even go to class?” I whispered to Drew.
    â€œWe really have to stop using this bathroom,” he whispered back, and I glared at him.
    â€œActually, I left my wallet in the cafeteria,” I announced, starting to back out.
    â€œOh darn, I did, too,” Drew said.
    â€œEveryone else keeps them in their back pockets,” I told him.
    â€œYes, that does make more sense—oof,” Drew said, bumping into the wall as we headed for the door. “Let’s now go get our wallets and put them in our back pockets so in the future—”
    â€œHold it!” Hugh shouted.
    We froze.
    â€œNow come forward,” Hank said.
    We did. It was like they had invisible remote controls for us or something. And then they gave us our very-first-ever atomic wedgies. The elastic band of my underwear actually snapped in half, and the Sweet brothers laughed.
    â€œSee you soon,” they said, high-fiving on the way out.
    â€œYou know, I’ve always been scared of getting a wedgie, but that didn’t really hurt at all, I have to admit,” Drew said.
    â€œWhy’s your voice so high all of a sudden?” I asked.
    Drew shrugged. I stared at my reflection in the mirror as I tucked the elastic band back into my pants.
    â€œWhat are we going to do about this, Peter?” he asked. “I mean, forget about becoming popular, I now just want to make it out of sixth grade alive.”
    Next to the mirror was a poster for the talent show, being held that coming Friday. I’d gone the last two years because Sunny played her flute for the show. She won both times. Suddenly it dawned on me that I was staring at the solution to all our problems.
    â€œDrew, I think I just figured out a way we could kill two birds with one stone.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?”
    I looked at him.
    â€œWe’re going to win the talent show.”
    I watched a smile slowly form on his face. It was like watching the sun rise.
    â€œThat’s a great idea!” Drew shouted, but then his smile faded. “What’s wrong?”
    â€œSunny always wins the talent show! No matter what we do, she’ll win, because she plays the flute like a