𝑬𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝑴í𝒂 | ᴮᵒʸ ᴹᵉᵉᵗˢ ᵂᵒʳˡᵈ

42: The Lesson Plan

"Steve Young takes the snap." Cory said, running down the hall past the lockers with Shawn.

"Jerry Rice goes long." Shawn said. "He throws a perfect six yard pass and hits.." Cory threw the football, and it his Frankie in the back.

"A blue 1995 Buick Regal!" He exclaimed. "Run!" Shawn said, running away with Cory. I leaned my head back against the lockers as I watched Frankie and Joey not chase Shawn and Cory.

There's no way they aren't gonna chase them. Something must be up. I walked over behind them up the two steps.

Shawn and Cory were peering around the corner. I looked over Joey's shoulder slightly and noticed him and Frankie's eyes were locked onto it.

"Uh... Frankie, Joey, I realize it's none of my business why you're not beating us up, but... why aren't you beating us up?" Cory asked, walking down the steps with Shawn behind him.

I followed behind them. "Maybe they don't understand." Shawn said. "I'll translate." Cory replied. "Why ain't you pounding us to a pulp?" He asked with an accent sounding like Harley.

Frankie and Joey didn't say anything and barely even moved. "Here, here, let me try." Shawn said, standing in front of Cory.

"Hey, why no this?" He asked, grabbing Frankie's arm and mimicking being punched.

"Sorry, the thrill is gone." Frankie said. I was confused, and Shawn let out an amused huff. "Too bad. What you got there?"

"It's a letter from Harley Kiner." Joey said. "It's okay, Joey." Frankie told him, patting his shoulder.

"How's Harley doing in his new reform school?" I asked. "It's called juvenile boot camp." Frankie corrected. "And he loves it, thank you very much."

"He never wants to come home. He doesn't say it here, but I think he's got a new gang." Joey said, sounding like he was going to cry.

"Are you okay?" I asked. "You don't get it! We're lackeys. We're hangers-on without nothing to hang on to." Joey said.

"Come on, Joey. We might as well go to class." Frankie picked Joey up off the trashcan he was sitting on. "It's come to this!" Joey said, crumbling the paper in his hand.

"Okay, we're back live. Second half." Cory said, grabbing the football from Shawn. He ran to the other end of the hall.

"Steve Young back to pass." Cory said. "Jerry Rice is open." Shawn said. "He throws."

Cory threw the ball, which was caught by Mr. Feeny. "Intercepted by Dan Marino." I said.

"The wily veteran." Mr. Feeny said. "I stink." Cory responded. "I agree. Have you seen your latest test score?"  Mr. Feeny pulled a packet of papers from his jacket pocket.

"And if Mr. Matthews stinks," He handed Cory his test. "You, Mr. Hunter, are as odoriferous as a dead man in July." He handed Shawn his test.

"You, Miss Flores, are as delightful as a spring daisy." He handed me my test. I smiled at the sight of the 99/100 written in red ink at the top of my paper. I would have gotten a 100/100 if I had spelled 'Regional' right.

"A twelve? How do you get a twelve?" Shawn questioned. "I don't know. You ever open a book?" Mr. Feeny asked. "What?" "A book. Do you ever open a book?" "What?"

Shawn looked at Cory and I. "Don't ask me. I got a sixteen." Cory said. "Gentlemen, do you ever go home and open a book?" Mr. Feeny asked.

"What?" Shawn asked for what felt like the millionth time. "I want you to go home this afternoon and open a book!" Mr. Feeny exclaimed.