Academic Assassins (18 page)

“The type of bullying I've seen around here is systemized torture. Merridew makes you lick her heels and then has the nerve to say it's for your own good.”

“So that's what happened to Babyface?” Scrap asked. “He got bullied into the Black Hole?”

I shook my head. “Merridew's getting back at me. She knows Babyface was my friend. She's trying to hit me where it hurts.”

“Okay—so she's a bully.” Scrap shrugged. “Big deal. Who cares? Get in line. We've been bullied by everybody. What're we supposed to do about
it?”

“Fight back.”

That made Table Scrap laugh. “How?”

“What's the most dangerous weapon you can find in Kesey?”

“A shiv,” he said.

“I've got something more dangerous than that.”

“What?” He didn't buy it. “You got a bomb under your belt?”

I tapped my finger to my temple.

“Oh jeez….” Table Scrap rolled his eyes. “You're gonna get all ‘We Are the World' on us now? Talking about how we can change our lives by using our
minds?”

“Think about it,” I said. “What frightens the Men in White the most?”

“That one of us is gonna stick 'em.”

“The orderlies are trained to handle a situation that gets out of hand,” I said. “But what the Men in White never anticipate is for us ants to use our heads.”

“My brain never broke anybody's bones before,” Table Scrap said.

“It's not about breaking things,” I insisted as I reached behind my back. “Actually, I was thinking about something more along the lines of this.” I tugged
Peter
Pan
out from the elastic waistline of my pants. “This will really scare Merridew,” I said, and held it up for the others to see.

Their eyes zeroed in on the cover.

“You're pulling my leg, right?” Table Scrap asked. “Is this a joke?”

“A book like this gets people thinking.”

“Yeah—but it don't get people reading,” Table Scrap muttered. “Nobody here's picked up a book since they were six.” He pointed to the haphazardly
stacked kiddie books scattered over the shelves. “You're better off sticking with Mimi. At least they've got pictures in them.”

The Mimi nodded, her pigtails flapping about the sides of her head. “Mimi always says—”

“We get it,” I cut her off. “Mimi's got a lot on her mind. But for right now, I'd rather have Peter Pan take the floor.”

“There's no book that can get me out of here,” Table Scrap said.

I held up the book to him. “Just read this paragraph and tell me if you still feel like books are bogus.”

Table Scrap pushed my hand away. “What if I don't want to?”

“Why?” I half-laughed. “Don't know how to read?”

Table Scrap didn't laugh back, tightening his eyes. All the blood in his body rushed up into his cheeks at once. “I can read. I just don't want to. I've got smarts, just
not book smarts.”

I cleared my throat and read the first sentence of
Peter Pan
out loud to him—“
All children, except one, grow up
.”

“The movie was better,” Table Scrap said.

“How would you know?” I asked. “You haven't even read the book!”

I read a little bit more, plowing through the prose to prove
Peter Pan
was worth reading—
“It is the nightly custom of every good mother after her children are asleep to
rummage in their minds and put things straight for next morning….”

“Isn't that what they're doing to us?” The Mimi asked. “Cleaning our heads?”

Table Scrap nodded at the book. “The Mimi's got a point. That's us he's talking about?”

“I'm not sure J. M. Barrie had us in mind when he wrote it,” I said. “But he may as well have written the book just for us, because…”

I hesitated, unsure of myself.

“Because I'm reading it to the rest of you.”

Table Scrap's eyes bugged out. “You're gonna
read
to the rest of us? The whole book?”

“Why not? Reading transports you. It takes you somewhere else! I'll take that escape any day….Especially from this place.”

Table Scrap started laughing. He pulled the book out from my hand and held it up to my face. “Reading some stupid fairy tale isn't gonna break us out of here.”

He tossed the book back at me. I caught the paperback, fumbling in my hands.

“Just give it a chance,” I said. “Peter Pan's not just a fairy tale. He's the original troublemaker. He's the O.G. juvenile delinquent. No hooligan has ever
topped him.”

I read a line about Peter—“ ‘
Don't have a mother,'
” he said. Not only had he no mother, but he had not the slightest desire to have one. He thought
them over-rated persons.
”—and for a split second, I couldn't help but feel a sting in the words.

Maybe this book was about us after all.

“Let's say we all go along with this book club of yours,” Scrap said. “What's Pan gonna teach me that I don't already know?”

“That's easy,” I said. “How to take down Captain Hook.”

Dear Mom…

I don't know if I'll be able to make up for the time I've thrown away by running from my problems, but I want to try.

I know I can be a better person.

I love you. I miss you.

But I need your help. This place
to you. To keep us in line, they have us
. It doesn't matter what we've done, we'll get the
every single time. It's the same
for the same amount of time with the exact same amount of
. It
so much. It feels like I'm having
. I can barely
. My heart's about to
my chest. Once
it's over, my mouth is so dry, but whenever I ask for water, they
me.