Chapter OneTrent
I'm doomed, thought Trent Rostand.
He knew it. And to make matters worse, he was the only one in homeroom who wasn't whooping it up. It was total pandemonium-like some kind of New Year's Eve blowout. Everyone was shouting. A boom box was cranked. Crumpled balls of paper were flying. Even Mr. Logan had his feet propped up on his desk.
But why not? This was the last day of school. The last period of the last day of school. With the possible exception of Christmas morning, it was supposed to be the high point of the year. Even birthdays didn't come close. Like his last birthday, for example. He had turned sixteen. It was a major milestone. An epic event. He should have been showered with all kinds of gifts people won at game shows-like a car, maybe, or a motorcycle, or a round-trip ticket to Tahiti.... Well, that was pushing it. But still. Something good. After all, his girlfriend had gotten a brand-new BMW, one of those slick twoseater convertibles that go from zero to sixty in about two seconds.
All he'd gotten was a new CD (by a band he didn't really like) and some clothes (stuff he would never wear). Oh yeah-and a book. A lousy book that he would certainly never read. Thanks, Dad. It was some sort of English literature anthology. About the size of a dictionary and equally as dull. Of course, if he'd actually read it instead of shoving it under his bed, he probably wouldn't be in the mess he was in right now. He wouldn't be poised for the biggest failure of his life. He wouldn't be on the verge of being yanked out of school by his father for poor grades in English, on the verge of losing everything.
That was Dad for you. He was devious that way. He'd give you something totally lame, and you wouldn't realize how much you needed it until your life was swirling around the toilet bowl....
"Psst," a voice whispered at the next desk. "Trent. Earth to Trent. Can you hear me?"
He tried to smile. But even Laurie Penrow couldn't snap him out of his funk this time. And that was disturbing. Aside from being the most popular sophomore at North Conroe High (as if that weren't enough), Laurie was also the hottest. Hands down. It wasn't an "Nope. He told me a C or better. Or I'm gone."
Laurie rolled her eyes. "And you actually believe him?"
"I have to, Laurie! Look, you don't know what my dad is like -- "
"Shhh," Laurie whispered. She frowned, glancing around the room.
Trent sighed. So he was yelling. Big deal. The entire classroom was yelling. But then he saw the problem: a couple of girls (Tina What's-her-face and her redhead friend Susan Something) were whispering and staring at him and Laurie. Now he understood. He was embarrassing her. And if there was one thing Laurie Penrow couldn't stand, it was embarrassment. Why did she even care what other people thought? Those girls were probably just jealous of the fact that Laurie could easily be a Victoria's Secret model. Sometimes it drove him nuts how much Laurie worried about appearances. But whatever. He wouldn't let it bother him. Laurie was perfect in every other way. Besides, he had much more important things to worry about than his girlfriend's only character flaw.
"Sorry," he said.
"I just can't believe that your dad would put you in military school," she whispered. She leaned close to him. "I mean, won't you get sent to the front lines if there's a war?"
"My dad would probably love that," Trent answered. "He'd say that it would teach me how to 'show some responsibility, show some initiative.' That's his big thing." He imitated the deep sound of his father's voice. "Show some initiative, Trent. Get out there and kick some butt."
"Well, don't worry. You won't do that badly. I know you won't." She smiled. "English is your native language, remember?"
Right. He should be a good English student. It wasn't as if he had a bad vocabulary. He had a great vocabulary. He used real three- and four-syllable words in actual conversation, words like voluptuous and caliber and devious. Guys like Big Joe Biggs (the two-hundred-pound defensive end who sat on the other side of Laurie and took up half the classroom) probably couldn't even spell those words. But when it came to sitting down and slogging through the lame books that Mr. Logan assigned, really concentrating ... well, his brain just couldn't hack it. The words on the page turned to mush. Inevitably he would get bored and turn to something good, a basketball mag like Slam or something cool like Rolling Stone.
"I'll tell you what," Laurie said with a wink. "Let me talk to your dad. I'm sure I could convince him to -- "
"All right, people," Mr. Logan called from the front of the classroom.
A hush fell over the room.
"Let's settle down one last time. Your report cards have arrived."
Trent's stomach twisted. This was it. The moment he'd been dreading. Mr. Logan took a stack of cards from someone in the hall, then closed the door.
"Don't worry," Laurie whispered.
How can I not worry? he wondered. He'd heard rumors of what happened to kids at military school: First their heads were shaved, then their spirits were broken by steady abuse at the hands of sadistic drill sergeants ... and gradually their former selves began to wither away until they disappeared altogether -- replaced by brainless androids. He might as well just save his father the trouble and volunteer for a lobotomy. It would be a lot quicker. Probably a lot less painful, too...
