In his quiet but firm way, Nate shuts her up. She flips her hair and sighs, with a glance toward St. Clair.
He ignores her. Ha.
“I have a surprise for you,” Nate says. “Since the weather is turning, and there aren’t many warm days left, I’ve arranged for you guys to spend the week outdoors.”
We’re going outside for class credit. I love Paris!
“I’ve organized a scavenger hunt.” Nate holds up a stack of papers. “There are two hundred items on this list.You’l be able to find them all in our
neighborhood, but you may have to ask the locals for help.”
Oh hel no.
“You’l be taking pictures of the items, and you’l be working in two teams.”
Phew! Someone else can talk to the locals.
“The winning team will be determined by the total number of items found, but I’l need to find photos on everyone’s phone or camera, if you expect to earn credit.”
NOOOOOOOOOOO.
“There’s a prize.” Nate smiles again, now that he final y has everyone’s attention. “The team that finds the most items by the end of Thursday’s class . . .
gets to skip class on Friday.”
Now that might be worth it. The classroom erupts in whistles and clapping. Nate picks captains based on who begs for it the loudest. Steve Carver—
the guy with the faux-surfer hair—and Amanda’s best friend, Nicole, are chosen. Rashmi and I groan in a rare moment of camaraderie. Steve pumps a fist
in the air. What a meathead.
The selecting begins, and Amanda is chosen first. Of course. And then Steve’s best friend. Of course. Rashmi elbows me. “Bet you five euros I’m
picked last.”
“I’l take that bet. Because it’s total y me.”
Amanda turns in her seat toward me and lowers her voice. “That’s a safe bet, Skunk Girl. Who’d want you on their team?”
My jaw unhinges stupidly .
“St. Clair!” Steve’s voice startles me. It figures that St. Clair would be picked early. Everyone looks at him, but he’s staring down Amanda. “Me,” he
says, in answer to her question. “I want Anna on my team, and you’d be lucky to have her.”
She flushes and quickly turns back around, but not before shooting me another dagger. What have I ever done to her?
More names are cal ed. More names that are NOT mine. St. Clair tries to get my attention, but I pretend I don’t notice. I can’t bear to look at him. I’m too humiliated. Soon the selection is down to me, Rashmi, and a skinny dude who, for whatever reason, is cal ed Cheeseburger. Cheeseburger is always
wearing this expression of surprise, like someone’s just cal ed his name, and he can’t figure out where the voice is coming from.
“Rashmi,” Nicole says without hesitation.
My heart sinks. Now it’s between me and someone named Cheeseburger. I focus my attention down on my desk, at the picture of me that Josh drew
earlier today in history. I’m dressed like a medieval peasant (we’re studying the Black Plague), and I have a fierce scowl and a dead rat dangling from
one hand.