this?"
"The Bitch Brigade," she said in her 'duh' voice as if I was an idiot for not knowing.
"Bitch Brigade? You mean they're real?" I'd heard stories about them, but I always thought they were fabrications or exaggerations. To me, the Bitch Brigade was Bridgeton's equivalent of the boogieman.
Sasha rolled her eyes. "Yes, they're real. They're a stupid group of girls who think they own the school. I'll tell you about them later. Right now, you need to get to class."
"I can't go to class. What if Heather sees that cow? Sasha, we have to do something."
"I can't, sweetie. Class is about to start." Sasha may have needed her perfect attendance record, but I really didn't care about mine. What was one more tardy amongst the twenty-seven I had already accumulated this year? She must have read my mind as she looked at the clock and said, "If you're gonna to be late anyway, put on the extra uniform I have in my locker. You smell like urine."
I wished I knew who this Bitch Brigade was so I could replace Heather's name with theirs. But since I didn't know, I had to be satisfied with just taking off Heather's sign and hoping she hadn't seen it or heard about it yet.
Unfortunately, it wasn't as simple as just whipping off the sign. The pranksters probably anticipated someone trying that and the sign was securely attached around the cow's neck with a wire nearly choking it. It bordered on animal cruelty.
No matter how I pulled and tugged, it didn't come off. I needed a wire cutter. But where in the world would I find a wire cutter in the middle of first period on the third floor of the McIntyre building?
I took my blazer off and tied it around the cow's neck covering the name. Then I decided to somehow get the cow out of the building. I remembered Sasha saying that cows were afraid to go down stairs, so I thought if I led the cow down backwards, it wouldn't know it was going down stairs. Amazingly, it worked. It was slow going and awkward, but I definitely got the cow to cooperate. I had to move the back legs down one step then run around to the front of the cow and put the front legs down and repeat one step at a time.
The bell rang signaling the end of first period. Everyone stared at me and the cow laughing as they passed me on the stairwell. Humiliating, yes, but I didn't care. I just didn't want Heather to feel like a cow for the rest of her life.
I continued to coax the cow down the stairs with tears in my eyes when I heard someone say, "Can I help?" Will had his blazer off and his sleeves rolled up ready to jump in and work. I nodded.
"So, you're pretty good at this," I said after we'd been working in silence for a few minutes. "Have any aspirations to be a professional cow mover?"
Will smiled. "It's definitely a close second on my list of dream jobs."
"What's number one?"
"Well, I'd love to get drafted to the NBA. But given that I'm only six foot and white, I don't think that's gonna happen any time soon. So, I think I might try to sign with a European team and develop my game oversees for a while."
"Europe? I love Europe. I went to a dance camp in Spain one summer. I'm hoping to go there next year too."
"Really? Maybe we'll see each other there."
"Maybe."
Forty minutes into second period, we had the cow out of the building.
"Thanks," I said to him while we stood in the parking lot exhausted.
"No problem. I hate the Fat Tuesday prank. It's cruel. It was sweet of you to try to help." Will's eyes sparkled causing me to blush and fluster.
"You should be in class," Headmaster Collins barked, stepping up behind us.
"I know…I'm sorry…I just…I couldn't…it's a cow," I stuttered.
"It's the Fat Tuesday prank, sir," Will explained . "We were just trying to keep this year's victim from getting hurt." Headmaster Collins stared at us for a moment with a sour expression. I
"The Bitch Brigade," she said in her 'duh' voice as if I was an idiot for not knowing.
"Bitch Brigade? You mean they're real?" I'd heard stories about them, but I always thought they were fabrications or exaggerations. To me, the Bitch Brigade was Bridgeton's equivalent of the boogieman.
Sasha rolled her eyes. "Yes, they're real. They're a stupid group of girls who think they own the school. I'll tell you about them later. Right now, you need to get to class."
"I can't go to class. What if Heather sees that cow? Sasha, we have to do something."
"I can't, sweetie. Class is about to start." Sasha may have needed her perfect attendance record, but I really didn't care about mine. What was one more tardy amongst the twenty-seven I had already accumulated this year? She must have read my mind as she looked at the clock and said, "If you're gonna to be late anyway, put on the extra uniform I have in my locker. You smell like urine."
I wished I knew who this Bitch Brigade was so I could replace Heather's name with theirs. But since I didn't know, I had to be satisfied with just taking off Heather's sign and hoping she hadn't seen it or heard about it yet.
Unfortunately, it wasn't as simple as just whipping off the sign. The pranksters probably anticipated someone trying that and the sign was securely attached around the cow's neck with a wire nearly choking it. It bordered on animal cruelty.
No matter how I pulled and tugged, it didn't come off. I needed a wire cutter. But where in the world would I find a wire cutter in the middle of first period on the third floor of the McIntyre building?
I took my blazer off and tied it around the cow's neck covering the name. Then I decided to somehow get the cow out of the building. I remembered Sasha saying that cows were afraid to go down stairs, so I thought if I led the cow down backwards, it wouldn't know it was going down stairs. Amazingly, it worked. It was slow going and awkward, but I definitely got the cow to cooperate. I had to move the back legs down one step then run around to the front of the cow and put the front legs down and repeat one step at a time.
The bell rang signaling the end of first period. Everyone stared at me and the cow laughing as they passed me on the stairwell. Humiliating, yes, but I didn't care. I just didn't want Heather to feel like a cow for the rest of her life.
I continued to coax the cow down the stairs with tears in my eyes when I heard someone say, "Can I help?" Will had his blazer off and his sleeves rolled up ready to jump in and work. I nodded.
"So, you're pretty good at this," I said after we'd been working in silence for a few minutes. "Have any aspirations to be a professional cow mover?"
Will smiled. "It's definitely a close second on my list of dream jobs."
"What's number one?"
"Well, I'd love to get drafted to the NBA. But given that I'm only six foot and white, I don't think that's gonna happen any time soon. So, I think I might try to sign with a European team and develop my game oversees for a while."
"Europe? I love Europe. I went to a dance camp in Spain one summer. I'm hoping to go there next year too."
"Really? Maybe we'll see each other there."
"Maybe."
Forty minutes into second period, we had the cow out of the building.
"Thanks," I said to him while we stood in the parking lot exhausted.
"No problem. I hate the Fat Tuesday prank. It's cruel. It was sweet of you to try to help." Will's eyes sparkled causing me to blush and fluster.
"You should be in class," Headmaster Collins barked, stepping up behind us.
"I know…I'm sorry…I just…I couldn't…it's a cow," I stuttered.
"It's the Fat Tuesday prank, sir," Will explained . "We were just trying to keep this year's victim from getting hurt." Headmaster Collins stared at us for a moment with a sour expression. I
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