Page 63 of Pride High

“Thanks,” he said. “You look really cool!”

Ugh. What an awkward way of putting it. Even though it was the truth. Keisha had an angular face, the short hair accentuating its shape even more. She wore a plum shirt tucked into burgundy pants that were secured on her wide hips by a thick black belt. The buckle was huge and shaped like a horseshoe. What a statement! Keisha smirked at his response, but not in a way that was cruel. One of the other guys was giving him the stink eye though, so Anthony quickly cleared his throat.

“Anyone is welcome to answer the question,” he said, reminding them of why he was there. “The more the merrier!”

He heard a few snorts and rightly so. Who talked like that? Robin Hood?

“I’ve got an answer for you,” Keisha said. “Homework. Nobody should have the right to dictate what we do outside of school hours. Could you imagine if we showed up to first period and told the teacher that we still have some partying to do from the night before?”

The guy that had been glaring barked laughter and said, “Sorry, Mrs. Cranfield, we’ll have to finish off this keg in class."

Whitney tittered. Anthony started scribbling. This was the best answer they’d gotten so far. And a valid point! What if this led to the abolition of homework?

“We should take this to the top,” he said after he finished jotting her answer down. “Hold protests if we have to. You’re really onto something.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Keisha said smoothly.

“What’s your last name?” he asked. “For the paper,” he added quickly when the beefy guy gave him another look.

“Hart. Spelled without the E.”

“Got it,” he said. “Thanks!”

A few of the other students at the table had answers too, all of them jokey, but that was okay. It was a good result. Once the relevant information was collected, they said goodbye and stood.Whitney pinballed around the cafeteria again, stopping this time at the no-man’s-land table. Anthony felt her approach could use more nuance, but she sure was good at getting people to talk.

“Oh my god,” she said, sitting down next to an overweight kid with severe acne. “You must hate high school, huh?”

“Uh, yeah!” the kid answered after turning beet red.

Anthony quickly explained what they were doing.

“So what’s the dumbest thing?” Whitney asked, not hiding her eagerness for his response.

“I hate when my parents ask how my day was and expect me to tell them what happened, when it’s always the same. And then they act pissy when I don’t have some life-changing story for them.”

Whitney laughed again, but not without sympathy. “So freaking true!”

Anthony wrote the answer down, feeling it had merit.

“I’ve got one,” said a girl across from them who had her nose buried in a book. “I hate that everyone expects you to start dating. There are girls in my class who are already making plans for prom. And they’re freshmen! They won’t be able to attend for two more years.”

“So dumb!” Whitney said, holding up her hand for a high-five.

The girl stared at her before very slowly raising her hand to meet it, as if certain that it would be pulled away at the last minute. But it wasn’t.

“I’m not dating anyone either,” Whitney confided. “Who cares!”

“Yeah,” the girl said before gathering her confidence. “Yeah!”

“Sweet. Talk to you later!” Whitney was already on the move again.

Anthony was still scribbling the last answer down while trying to follow her. He had to admit, she was kind of awesome! Although it wouldn’t hurt for her to learn alittlerestraint. Especially since she went up to a teacher and asked the same question with just as little tact.

The teacher’s nostrils flared. “I don’t like it when students show up at my class with an attitude, as if they don’t want to be there,” the man replied curtly.

“Huh,” Whitney said as they walked away. “I don’t think we’ll use that one.”

“Agreed. We’re probably not supposed to ask teachers anyway.”

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