The Vigilante Poets of Selwyn Academy (15 page)

“So they’re all in collusion. What more do we need to know?”

“Duh. Where they’re going? What they’re talking about?”

“Yeah, like we’re going to crash some ritzy bar and eavesdrop on them?”

“We could try.”

“That’s ridiculous. And besides, they don’t matter. We should be talking to Luke.”

“There’s no need to—ACK!”

That was my head hitting the front seat. Elizabeth had
slammed on the brakes. Once I got my face to function again, I saw that the Volkswagen again had on its left-turn signal.

“They’re turning
there
? That’s an entrance ramp,” said Jackson. “You are not taking my Appelvan onto the highway.”

“Watch me.”

“This car does not do well with high speeds.”

“Like I give a flying—”

“And it’s practically rush hour!” The Volkswagen turned.

“Onward! FIDO!” shouted Elizabeth.

“NO!” shouted Jackson. “NO FIDO! BAD FIDO!”

To my surprise, she didn’t follow them into the turn. “You’re right,” she told him.

“Of course I’m right! In dog years, the Appelvan’s a hundred and nineteen—”

“No. About Luke. Who cares about BradLee? Who cares about Coluber and Trisha? We need to figure out what’s going on with Luke.”

Same day, 8 p.m.

I was looking around my room appraisingly. It was nowhere near as cool as the Appelden. For one, there was no Baconnaise. I’d thought about asking Jackson to bring him over, but I didn’t want them to think that Baconnaise was my security blanket or something. I didn’t need solace from a gerbil. Not at all.

Anyway, even Baconnaise wouldn’t be enough to make my room cool. My mom had once been the type to decorate a bedroom, but this was before she decided she wanted more children, preferably girls. (I’d tried not to feel insulted.) Therefore, my room looked like an eleven-year-old boy lived
there. There were Star Wars action figures. Bins of Legos were stacked at the foot of the bed. On the walls were posters for old Pixar films, which I briefly considered taking down before Elizabeth came over.

But it’d be fine for our emergency meeting. The Appelden was unavailable, since it was Jackson’s parents’ turn to host their friends for their monthly Settlers of Catan party.

Jackson drove over with Elizabeth after dinner. He sprawled onto my bed and started scrolling through his phone. Elizabeth stood, looking curiously at the decor.

“
Ratatouille
, huh?” She was grinning.

I knew I should have taken that poster down.

“Let’s get down to business,” I said. I sat at my desk chair.

“Sit up, Jackson,” Elizabeth commanded. “Move over.” Jackson was still poking at his phone—you can never tell whether he’s doing vital research or playing
Tetris
—but he swung his legs over the side of the bed so there’d be room for her. “Let’s debrief.”

I reported everything BradLee had said. “He thinks that Luke’s, quote, very gratified.”

“Who believes that?” demanded Elizabeth. She seemed to expect us to raise our hands for aye or nay.

“He was gratified at lunch today,” I said. “Sitting with Maura Heldsman.”

“True.”

“Maybe it was all a plot,” I said bitterly. “Maybe he engineered the
Contracantos
to get on the show.”

I’d been wondering that all afternoon. I’d been lying on my bed, hands behind my neck, stewing. Stewing in the Crock-Pot
of betrayal. And because it felt horribly good, like prodding a pimple, to believe the worst, I’d basically concluded that yes, he’d masterminded it all. His two censored reviews, his long poem, the publication of the
Contracantos:
all an elaborate ploy.

But they couldn’t be.

“No,” I said. “He’s good. But he’s not that good.”

“We don’t want to underestimate him,” said Elizabeth.

“He couldn’t have faked all that outrage.”

“He could have,” said Jackson. “But he didn’t. Think about the sequence of events. If he’d wanted to be on the show, he would have made the
Contracantos
by himself. It would have been stupid to involve us.”

“Proof enough for me,” said Elizabeth. “Luke’s not an idiot.”

“He’s an idiot,” I muttered.

“He’s not a tactical idiot. Even if he
has
been taken in by
For Art’s Sake
.”

“BradLee, on the other hand, is an idiot,” said Jackson. “He clearly reports to Coluber.”

“Yeah,” I said. “This is all BradLee’s fault, not Luke’s.”

“Luke’s the one who agreed to be on the show,” said Jackson. “Don’t let him off so fast.” He picked up his phone again and zoned out.

“We need to talk to him,” said Elizabeth.

There was a knock on the door.

“Oh no,” I said. I dove to block it, but I forgot that my desk chair had wheels and ended up on the floor. They processed in like pallbearers with the Candy Land box.

“Time to play!” said Olivia.

“Ethan, why are you lying down?” said Tabitha.

“I love Candy Land,” said Elizabeth.

“No, you don’t,” I said, heaving myself up. “Trippers, go away.”

“Trippers? Are they on drugs?”

“Sometimes I wonder.”

“If you say you have a headache, Mom gives you candy,” said Lila.

“It’s called Tylenol,” said Tabitha. “I like it.”

“EEEEEETHAN,” said Olivia. “You said you’d play.”

“You promised.”

“I promised nothing of the sort.”

“You did too!” Lila screwed up her face and opened her mouth for a wail.

“Don’t you fake cry.”

She shut her mouth and opened her eyes. “I never fake.”

“Yeah!” said Olivia. “Lila never fakes.”

“Lila never fakes,” said Tabitha.

“I never fake.”

“Lila never fakes.”

They get stuck in these continuous-feedback loops.

“Girls,” I said, trying to sound like my mom, “I’ll play tomorrow. As soon as I wake up.”

“But you promised!” said Lila, her chin trembling.

I glanced at Elizabeth, who was watching the proceedings with interest.

“You’re a bad brother,” said Tabby. “You’re going to make Lila cry.”

“Bad brother.”

“Bad bad bad bad brother.”

“Like an ogre.”

“Fee, fie, foh, fum—”

“Ethan won’t play Candy Land because he is dumb!” That was Olivia. Elizabeth cracked up, but not as hard as those three did. They hit the floor, laughing so hard they were wheezing. Olivia would repeat the line every time anyone was in danger of catching her breath.

“You’re not supposed to laugh at your own jokes,” I told Olivia grouchily. “Fine. Set it up.” I gave Elizabeth and Jackson a despairing look. “Sorry, guys.”

“I really do like Candy Land,” said Elizabeth, hopping off the bed.

“Then you really are an imbecile.”

She kicked me as she dropped down to the floor.

“We like you,” said Olivia.

“Can I be the green one?”

Tabitha appraised Elizabeth’s request. “I’m always green, but you’re nice, and you kicked Ethan. So you can be yellow.”

“Like the sun,” said Elizabeth.

“And pee,” said Lila.

“And bananas,” said Elizabeth.

“And pee,” said Lila.

I did some stealth deck-arranging so the girls would get all the good cards. We commenced.

“We should call him,” said Elizabeth. “Now.”

My stomach dropped.

“Don’t get all excited. But maybe he’s still on our side.”

“Yeah! He’s infiltrating kTV! With his insider knowledge, we’ll bring them down—”

“I just told you not to get all excited,” said Elizabeth.

“Go, Ethan,” whined Lila.

“I’ll call him,” said Jackson from the bed. “Since you two are otherwise engaged.”

I wouldn’t have expected it, but Elizabeth looked relieved too.

Olivia pulled the Queen Frostine card. They broke into their Queen Frostine song. I won’t sully these pages with the full lyrics. An excerpt:
Queen Frostine / never mean / Queen Frostine / as sweet as frosting
.

Jackson went into my closet to escape the noise.

“I wish I knew that song,” said Elizabeth longingly.

They were happy to oblige. By this point, Tabitha was in Elizabeth’s lap, playing with her dreadlocks. I was sort of envious. I’d always wondered what those dreadlocks felt like.

“I wonder why BradLee spilled the beans to Coluber,” said Elizabeth.

“I wonder
when
,” said Jackson ominously as he emerged from the closet.

“Maybe he didn’t,” I said. “Maybe he’s just, like, casual acquaintances with Coluber and Trisha.”

“ ‘Think of the greater good’?” Jackson quoted.

“That was a throwaway line!”

“Nothing is a throwaway line,” intoned Jackson.

“Oh, Ethan,” said Elizabeth. “Now that I know you spend your free time playing Candy Land, it’s much easier for me to understand how you’re such an innocent.”

Jackson chortled.

“What happened on the phone?” I asked him.

“I talked to him. All rumors are confirmed.”

I was so agitated I moved my piece backward.

“One question,” he said. “How long ago did BradLee blab about the
Contracantos
?”

The triplets broke into their new
Fee, fie, foh, fum / Ethan is really dumb
song.

Elizabeth was nodding. “Way back. I bet it was
way
back.”

“So Coluber’s ban must have been purposeful.”

I couldn’t both follow their conversation and escape the gluey grasp of the swamp monster Gloppy. I was back at the beginning of the board. “I can’t concentrate!” I wailed.

“That’s because you’re dumb. That’s okay. I just won,” said Olivia.

“You always win,” said Lila.

Tabitha is hyper-competitive, and I eyed her worriedly. She’s been known to throw pieces. “That’s just because you got the Queen Frostine card,” she said meanly.

“Queen Frostine, not a human bean,”
sang Elizabeth as she helped them pick up.

They were finally gone.

“Wow,” said Elizabeth. “You’re so nice to them.”

I looked around. I thought she might be talking to someone else.

“They love you. It’s obvious.”

“Um, if you didn’t notice, they think I’m dumb.”

“But so do all your friends.”

I laughed despite myself. “What were you guys talking about? Summarize.”

Jackson hopped to. He likes the word “summarize.” I like the word “tricolon.”

“He’s hanging out with Maura,” I moaned. I was lying on the floor again.

“Your infatuation is inane,” snapped Elizabeth. “Can we focus on what’s important? Luke changed sides. Why?”

“He was probably on their side all along.”

“Oh, come
on
, Ethan. He believed in the
Contracantos
. You know he did. He was leading the revolt! The revolt was his
idea
!”

Jackson snorted. “Money.”

“You really think that would be enough?” said Elizabeth.

“An agent. National exposure. Cool friends.”

“We were his cool friends!” I wailed.

“He chose lo these many years ago,” said Jackson. I knew he was talking about MinneMATHolis. “Now he chose again.”

“Don’t forget he had friends back then too,” said Elizabeth. “Friends he abandoned.”

“But they were people like Miki Frigging Reagler! People who don’t even count as people!”

“Money, an agent, fame, cool friends,” repeated Jackson. He took off his glasses and stared at me in a creepy, probing, unfocused way. “Hanging out with Maura Heldsman, all the time. Think about it. You don’t have to answer, but think about it. What would you have done, Ethan? What would you have done?”

I wasn’t stewing any longer. The Crock-Pot had been turned off and the meat was congealing into a sad, sorry mess.

On Monday, I went to lunch with Elizabeth. “There he is! There he is!”

“Ethan, just ignore him.”

“For the ever-loving love of—look who he’s sitting next to.”

“Kyle’s not that bad.”

“Not Kyle.”

“Who then? I’m not looking.”

“MIKI F.R.! MIKI F.R. IS THAT BAD!”

“Eat your taco salad.”

“MIKI FRIGGING REAGLER! The guy whose name needs an inserted expletive just to jive with natural law! MIKI FRIGGING REAGLER!”

It was true. Miki F.R.’s swoopy-haired self was back at Luke’s side with the aplomb of someone who always knew this would happen. I stood up. “Let’s go. Let’s go ask him why.”

“Jackson already did.”

“You know Jackson’s incompetent on the phone. That man orders pizza online. We’ll go talk to him face to face.”

“But my taco meat will get all cold, and the lettuce’ll get warm, and you’re perfectly aware the only thing that makes cafeteria taco salad edible is the temperature divergence …”

Was she nervous? “Elizabeth!” I grabbed her hand and pulled her up. “I’ll buy you a new taco salad.”

“You borrowed my money to buy
yourself
a taco salad.” But she stood up. I was about to drop her hand, I swear, but as we headed toward Luke, she laced her fingers through mine.