Get Even (Don’t Get Mad)

OLIVIA STARED AT ED THE HEAD AS IF HE’D SPOKEN IN tongues. It took her brain several seconds to grasp his meaning.

“Are you telling me that Margot got an envelope like this with a photo in it?”

Ed the Head flashed his braces. “That’s exactly what I’m—”

He hesitated and flitted his head back and forth, like a hawk who’d been alerted to prey. “Do you hear that?” he whispered, even though they were utterly alone.

Olivia listened, expecting to hear sirens or screaming or something violently horrible, but all she heard was the wind rustling through the elm tree in the middle of the courtyard.

“What am I supposed to be hearing?” Olivia asked.

“Sh!” Ed the Head hissed. His eyes scanned the sky, then his head began to bob up and down rhythmically. “Bah. Bah. Bah bah, bah bah,” he chanted. Then louder. “Bah. Bah. Bah bah, bah bah. Bah. Bah. Bah bah, bah bah.”

Olivia thought Ed the Head had finally lost his mind, until she heard a faint cheer in the distance, like a crowd at a sporting event.

“What is that?” she asked.

“That, my darling Olivia, is the sound of public uprising. And where there is social unrest, there is money to be made.” He bolted from the courtyard. “To the Bat Cave!”

Olivia had to jog to keep up with Ed the Head as he wove through the hallways. The chant got louder and louder with every step they took, and positively exploded the moment they burst into the quad.

Ed the Head stopped short. “Holy shit.”

The amphitheater at the far end of the quad was packed with students, some holding signs with slogans like “’Maine Men = Gestapo” and “Down with Uberti!” Others punched their fists in the air to articulate the beats of their chant. “Hey! Ho! ’Maine Men must go!” they cried in rhythmic unison. “Hey! Ho! ’Maine Men must go!”

And smack in the middle of the stage, megaphone in hand as she led the rally, was Mika Jones, with her best friend, Kitty Wei, by her side.

Holy shit indeed.

Kitty stood stiffly next to Mika, a tight smile plastered on her face, while her friend engaged the crowd.

“Are you tired of their reign of terror?” Mika cried into the megaphone.

“YEAH!” the crowd answered.

“Are you tired of bag searches?”

“YEAH!”

“And interrogations?”

“YEAH!”

“And bribes to get us to turn on each other?”

“YEAH!”

“Can I get a ‘hellz yeah’ on that one?”

“HELLZ YEAH!”

“That’s what I’m talking about!”

So much for keeping a low profile.

Mika handed the megaphone to Theo, who started up the chant with as much if not more enthusiasm than Mika.

“This is pretty amazing,” Kitty shouted above the cheers.

“I’m just tired of the bullshit,” Mika said. “Seeing people like Theo get hurt. DGM made me think that I could be doing more to help people.”

Kitty wanted to hug her. DGM had inspired the protest, had galvanized a movement toward tolerance and freedom. Never in her wildest dreams did Kitty think people would actually be influenced by DGM, but this rally? This was proof. DGM may have been in a shit ton of trouble, but they were doing the right thing.

“Break it up! Break it up!”

A swath of blue shirts forced their way through the sea of students that inundated the quad. Right in the middle of them, his bald head the color of an overripe tomato, was Coach Creed.

The crowd fell silent as he approached the stage, less out of respect and more from curiosity.

“By the authority of Bishop DuMaine Preparatory School,” Coach Creed began, spittle flying from his mouth in all directions, “I demand that you cease and desist this illegal gathering and submit yourselves for punishment.”

Power had clearly gone to his head, and Kitty was seriously beginning to question Coach Creed’s mental stability.

“We’re exercising our First Amendment right to free speech!” Mika cried. The crowd roared in agreement.

Creed leaped onto the stage and got right up in Mika’s face. “There are no rights at this school!”

“You can say that again,” Kitty said without thinking. She didn’t even realize the words had come out of her mouth until Coach Creed swung his sweaty face in her direction.

“Traitor!” he growled. “You are a traitor!” He stuck his index finger right in her chest. “I’ll have you impeached for this, Wei!”

Donté appeared out of nowhere, wedging his body between Kitty and Coach Creed. “Step off, Coach,” he said, his voice steely.

“You’re interfering with the law!” Coach Creed roared. His bald head shifted hues from red to burgundy to purple.

“And you’re out of order,” Donté replied. “You need to get out of here before someone gets hurt.”

Coach Creed’s eyes bugged out of his head. “Are you threatening me, Greene?” Without waiting for an answer, Coach Creed lurched forward and drove his arms into Donté’s chest.

“Donté!” Kitty screamed. But she couldn’t even hear her own voice over the melee. A shoving match had broken out between the ’Maine Men and the students gathered at the rally. Bodies flew as each side traded shoves. Kitty lost sight of Donté and Coach Creed in the chaos.

A blare of sirens floated above the shouts and cries of the brawl, and suddenly dozens of uniformed police officers swarmed the quad.

“Everybody, calm down!”

The fighting ceased as the police broke through the crowd; bodies grew still, voices fell silent. All except one.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” Coach Creed screamed. “I’ll do it! I swear to God!”

Donté held Coach Creed at arm’s length, desperately trying to avoid the punches Coach was throwing at him. Sergeant Callahan vaulted onto the stage and hauled Coach Creed away. “Stand down!” he yelled, throwing an arm in Creed’s face.

Coach Creed pointed at Donté. “Arrest this traitor!” he yelled. “By the authority of the ’Maine Men.”

“You don’t have any authority here,” Sergeant Callahan said. Kitty could tell by his voice that the officer’s patience was wearing thin.

“This is my school,” Coach Creed said, jabbing his thumb at his chest. “Father Uberti has given me the authority to use the ’Maine Men as I see fit.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Dick?” Father Uberti bolted up to the stage. He wrung his hands in front of him. “Sergeant Callahan, thank you for getting here so quickly. I think the situation has gotten out of control.”

Sergeant Callahan turned his cool, appraising gaze on Father Uberti, and Kitty smiled as she watched the principal squirm under the scrutiny.

“Is it true?” Sergeant Callahan asked. “That you condoned the use of force by Coach Creed and the ’Maine Men?”

Father Uberti’s hand flew to his chest and his eyes grew wide in mock horror. “Absolutely not! I have no idea what this man is talking about.”

Coach Creed’s mouth fell open. “But you said—”

Father Uberti cut him off. “Richard Creed, you are hereby suspended from Bishop DuMaine Preparatory School, effective immediately.”