Casey Barnes Eponymous - By E.A. Rigg Page 0,21

with me to the meeting and we’ll go to the movies afterwards.”

It was one of those school days that passed in a slow, boring hum punctuated by bells and unpleasant moments. Casey was no stranger to those days but this one was a real standout. En la clase de español Señor Griffin commented, when he checked homework and saw that she yet again did not have it, that she needed to get out of whatever “funk” she was in and get back to doing homework the way she had been at the beginning of the year. As soon as Señor Griffin passed, she sent a note Ben’s way.

All your fault, homework horder. P.S. You will score mega karma points if you help your neighbor in Spanish class get out of her ‘funk.’ He penned a response. Why don’t you ask your friend from yesterday to get you out of your ‘funk’. She felt sad but also flattered. Burn, she scribbled, but that’s a no can do. He takes Greco-Roman and was born a hermaphrodite. P.P.S. Feel free to pass that knowledge around to as many people as possible.

He wrote for a minute, started to slide the note under his elbow then paused, added something, and passed.

I’m not interested in passing dirt on that dude, but thanks for the scintillating and, I’m sure, 100% true information. P.S. There are websites with tutorials on Spanish grammar. You can always use one of those when you don’t get the homework. She sighed and responded. But that would be proactive and constructive.

He shook his head. Casey was wondering what he was going to write next when the bell rang to end class. Ben, as usual, was out of his seat and through the classroom door quicker than lightning.

Math class was another variant on the all-enveloping web of social connectivity that was Walton High School. As she walked in Maxine French watched with a narrow-eyed look of perusal passed down by her bull shark predecessors. Casey assumed it would end there, but as soon as she sat Maxine whirled around, folded her arms over her chest, and raised an eyebrow. “Peter told me you were at their band practice.”

“Um.”

“With Alex.” Maxine looked her up and down.

Casey slumped into her seat and wondered if it was true that every once in a while people could spontaneously combust.

“Did Miss Kinsey have her little talk with you yesterday?” Maxine asked.

Casey sighed and put her pen down. “Yes. But she said she’d wait until today to call your parents.”

“My--what are you talking about?”

“You know. About you cheating off my test. I mean to be honest I told Miss Kinsey I’d be fine with letting you off just this once, but she seemed keen on doing something.”

“You cheated off my test!” Maxine said, “That’s what she was going to talk to you about.”

Casey shook her head and shot her a faux earnest look. Her little line of B.S. was a suicide mission. As soon as Miss Kinsey entered the room she would clarify matters and Maxine’s feathers would unruffle. But at that moment in that school day watching Maxine get bent out of shape was just what the doctor ordered. Casey began to sing “Lonely Days, Lonely Nights.”

“Are you singing?” Maxine asked in disgust.

“No.” Casey swung into the second verse.

“Yes you are. And you’re lying too.”

Miss Kinsey entered. Casey stopped singing. Maxine scowled and turned to face the front of the room. Casey yawned.

In the library, she wrote a genius playlist that included Sufjan Stevens, Iron and Wine, AND Belle and Sebastian. It might very well have changed the life course of the red-faced football player who could not remember the name of his English teacher. However it was horrifically disregarded when he tossed it in the trash and ignored her plea to read the copy she quickly wrote up.

English class did not do much to ease the pain. About a third of the way through Mrs. Edwards placed everyone into their Beowulf project groups. Casey’s relief about it being group work time (time to text Leigh while Mrs. Edwards wasn’t looking!) was squashed when Catherine Hightower whipped her notebook out and began reading her ideas for the three-part essay they were going to write. Each one of them would be responsible for writing ten pages.

“And,” Catherine said with a beady-eyed grin, “I think we should use primary sources.”

Casey looked from Catherine to Sukh, baffled. “What’s she talking about?”

“I am not sure,” Sukh said, “Catherine, Beowulf is a primary source.”

“I