"Too old for what?"

"You seem like you work really well with your hands and you're smart. There are a bunch of local programs where you could train to be an electrician or in another skilled trade."

Drew chuckled. "Wow. Is this your good deed for the day?"

"I'm not being rude. I'm actually trying to help. You act like everyone who has money thinks they're better than everyone else, and what I'm saying is that I think you can do better than what you're doing. I meant it as a compliment." It hadn't occurred to me that it would offend him. Wow. It seemed I could even screw up being nice to people.

"Well, then, I'll take it in the spirit you intended." Drew heaved himself off the bench and plugged in the floor polisher. "Since we're pa.s.sing around advice, do you mind if I give you some?"

I could tell I wasn't going to like anything he said, but I couldn't very well refuse. "Are you going to tell me to keep my nose out of things?"

"Nope. One of the problems in the world is that people aren't willing to stick their noses in more often. We all ought to look out for each other better. My advice is for you to loosen up a little. For someone who has the whole world on a silver platter, you're wound way too tight."

"I don't have the world on a platter."

"Fine. For someone who has the world on a salad plate, you're wound way too tight. You should step out of the box more often. See what the world has to offer."

"I stepped out of the box the night I broke the statue, and look where that got me."

"Exactly! You had a chance to get to know me as a result. Talk about lucky. Think what could happen if you tried again."

"No, thanks."

"You can't play it safe all the time."

"I don't play it safe all the time."

"Are you telling me that you weren't just calculating how much water on the floor it would take before the electrical cord for the floor polisher becomes an electrocution risk?"

I crossed my arms. He could make fun of me if he wanted. There were 550 accidental electrocution deaths in the United States last year. Most of those took place at work. Call me a fool, but water and electricity don't mix. That's why it isn't advised that you blow your hair dry in the shower. I stepped forward and grabbed the handles of the polisher. Drew raised an eyebrow, but then flipped the switch on the handle. The polisher nearly shot out of my hands. It felt like trying to hold a rodeo bull in place. I spun in a couple wide circles, trying to get it under control.

"Interesting technique," Drew yelled out over the sound of the machine.

"If you you want to polish the floor, then you can do it your way." I turned my back on him and wrestled the machine to my will. Eventually it began to behave and glided up and down the gym parquet floor in a rough approximation of rows. I would stop every so often and squirt (a safe amount) of the combination liquid wax and cleaning gel onto the floor in front of me. I shot a few glances over at Drew, but he was busy walking up and down the bleachers, using a paint sc.r.a.per to clean the bottom of each bench, then starting over at the beginning of the row to sweep the trash down to the next level. want to polish the floor, then you can do it your way." I turned my back on him and wrestled the machine to my will. Eventually it began to behave and glided up and down the gym parquet floor in a rough approximation of rows. I would stop every so often and squirt (a safe amount) of the combination liquid wax and cleaning gel onto the floor in front of me. I shot a few glances over at Drew, but he was busy walking up and down the bleachers, using a paint sc.r.a.per to clean the bottom of each bench, then starting over at the beginning of the row to sweep the trash down to the next level.

It seemed strange not to talk, but the polisher was so loud and the gym so big that it made conversation practically impossible. It wasn't that I wanted to be insulted by Drew, the jolly janitor, but I had realized how nice it was to talk to someone about anything other than what had happened. Drew was right about one thing. As the hour went on, I felt less stiff and sore. My muscles limbered up, and when I turned the machine off, I looked back over the floor and felt a huge sense of satisfaction. I had accomplished something. It might not have been much, but it was something.

Drew was at the far end of the gym gathering all of the trash into three giant black bags. We'd finished sooner than I'd expected, and I wondered if that meant we got to knock off early or if we were expected to tackle some other ch.o.r.e. I had just started to make a dent in the extra credit history homework. I could use the extra time. I began to wind up the cord.

The doors to the outside burst open, and a group of guys spilled into the gym. It must have been snowing outside, because they were covered with a mix of slush and mud. One of them, a junior, gave a whoop when he saw the waxed floor. He took off at a run, dropping to his knees and sliding six or seven feet. He left a long dark smear of mud in the center of my floor.

"What the h.e.l.l are you doing!" I screeched. I ran out into the middle of the floor waving my hands as if I wanted to scare off a group of wayward geese that were p.o.o.ping all over my lawn. The guys stopped in place. I looked around. They were all wearing their outdoor shoes, some with cleats and hard soles. They'd tracked in mud, granite-colored slush, and a few random twigs. The floor was ruined.

"Easy, Kendrick. Who made you Miss Clean?" The junior tossed a filthy football into the net box at the end of the gym. "We had to bring the equipment back. What's the big deal?"

"The entire floor has to be done again," I said, pointing out the obvious.

"Isn't that what you have your townie for?" The junior motioned to Drew, who was still standing to the side. "You keep them around for more than just looking at, don't you? Or do you just use them for kissing?" The other guys laughed. Drew crossed over to us in several short strides, and the Evesham guys suddenly bunched together.

"Is there a problem?" Drew asked. He may have been only a few years older than the guys, but looking at them together, it was clear it was the difference between a bunch of boys and a man. Drew was broad through the shoulders, and his face had clean lines, with no baby fat sticking to his cheeks. I could tell the guys were scared that Drew would start something with them, and I liked that. They outnumbered him eight to one, but they were still afraid. I stood behind Drew with my arms crossed. I hoped he would make them wipe up the slush off the floor with their tongues.

"There's no problem, man." The junior rocked back and forth. I think he was trying to look tough, but it looked like he was trying out for a chorus role with a production of West Side Story.

"All right, then." Drew stood his ground. The Evesham kids headed out of the gym, darting looks over their shoulders to make sure Drew wasn't following them. I pressed my lips together. I wanted to scream.

"Make sure there aren't any sloppy seconds left behind," the junior yelled, and then they all laughed, slamming the door.

I whirled on Drew. "Why didn't you make them clean that up? How can you let them get away with that?"

"You don't do a lot of meditation, do you?" Drew pulled the mop from the cart and started to wipe up the mess on the floor.

I stared at him, wondering if he'd lost his mind. "What are you talking about?"

Drew motioned to the mess on the floor. "This is just dirt. Save your wrath for something bigger than mud."

"He was rude."

"No, he was an a.s.shole. Me telling him that isn't going to change anything. He isn't suddenly going to fall on his knees and see the light. You know what's going to happen? He's going to run to the dean and say that he was returning the ball when I forced him to clean the gym floor. His friends will back him up, and I'll be the one in trouble."

"But that isn't fair," I said, knowing I sounded like a five-year-old. "I would have backed you up."

"Nothing personal, but I'm guessing Dean Winston doesn't have your picture on the wall for Student of the Month."

My mouth snapped shut. He was right. Winston wouldn't believe me. Even if he thought I was telling the truth, he'd never admit it.

"You can go ahead and get out of here. I've got this covered," Drew said, glancing at his watch. "You put in your time."

I was tempted to take him up on his offer. I still had homework to finish. The smart thing to do would be to thank him and get the homework done. The image of my empty dorm room flashed in my mind. I didn't feel like doing the smart thing.

"It'll go faster with both of us," I said. "Besides, I've started to get the hang of this polisher."

"I noticed. I was just thinking how you were the Princess of the Polisher," Drew said, smiling.

"Master of the Mop," I said.

"Sultan of Sh.e.l.lac," he fired back.

I laughed, and turned my back to fire up the machine. I heard Drew call my name, and I turned around to be smacked with a blob of slush smack in the center of my chest. I stared down at the wet splotch. I looked up, and Drew's face was twitching as he tried to avoid laughing. I bent down and picked up a handful of slush.

Drew held up his hands as if he were surrendering. "I don't know what came over me."

I flung the slush ball at him and missed. "I meant to miss you. I'm showing you what a better person I am."

"Of course."

I waited until he bent over to pick up the mop handle, and then I hurled another slush ball at him, this time hitting him in the center of his b.u.t.t. He turned around, wiping the rest of the slush off of his jeans. He raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

"I decided I'm not really a better person," I said.

It didn't take long to redo the floor. Turned out Drew was right, mud wipes right up. I helped put the cart back into the closet. Drew made sure everything was put back in just the right place, and he ticked off the tasks on the to-do list. He made sure the mop was clean before he hung it up to dry. He clearly took pride in his job. Once everything was properly stowed away, he grabbed his jacket off the hook.

"Here, don't forget these." I handed him the printouts of the training programs I'd found.

"Oh, right. Thanks." He pulled a book out of his coat pocket and folded the papers inside.

"What are you reading?" I asked.

Drew flipped the book over so I could see the cover. Dante Dante's Inferno Inferno. I hadn't expected that. I'd seen him as more of a Stephen King fan.

"Fan of the cla.s.sics, huh?" I asked, trying to hide my surprise.

"It's on the reading list. I'm trying to get a jump start."

"Reading list?"

"I'm going to Yale next year. I'm working this job to earn some extra money."

"Yale?"

"I got in last year but delayed my start. I wanted to travel a little, earn some extra cash."

I could feel my face burning. "Oh." I couldn't believe I'd given him a bunch of information on vocational programs and had acted like he would be lucky to get in. "I didn't mean to imply that the skilled trades were your only option."

"Don't worry about it. Your heart was in the right place. Besides, I thought it was kind of cool that you noticed I have good dexterity." He waved his fingers in front of my face. "I like the idea of you thinking about what my hands can do." He winked before turning to leave.

I flushed even redder. "I wasn't thinking about your hands," I called after him.

"Sure you weren't."

"I wasn't. I was trying to be nice."

Drew turned around to face me, leaning against the doorjamb. "Admit it. You're thinking about it now." He saluted and left.

I kicked the cart. Darn it. Now I was was thinking about it. thinking about it.

17.

The dining hall at Evesham is decorated to look like one of the halls at Oxford. The long wall has arched cathedral windows, and the ceiling is painted with vines and leaves. There are long wooden tables, and although seats aren't a.s.signed, it's habit that the seniors sit in the back, farthest from the front faculty table. Well, at least most of them do. I'd taken to sitting by myself in the leper section near the trash cans. Out of site, out of mind. Unlike in most cafeterias, we don't wait in a line for food. Each table has menus on a clipboard, and you check off what you want and then one of the servers bring your tray.

I ticked off scrambled eggs and toast and pulled out my math homework to go over my answers one more time. My grades had gone up lately because I'd had way more time to do homework, without needing to spend time talking to anyone. Isolation has its advantages. Kelsie sat down and waved away the server. She never eats breakfast. Or to be more precise, she never eats her own breakfast. Kelsie picked the strawberry off my toast plate and popped it into her mouth.

"So how come I have to hear from someone else that you're a.s.signed to clean with some sort of hunky man model?"

"What?"

"If I had known they hired cute townies to clean, I would have taken an interest in dust long before now." Kelsie looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to us. "Is he the one from that night?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, he is not the one."

"You're going to want to bail on breakfast, by the way."

"Why?"

"Trust me. Make yourself scarce." Kelsie took a piece of my toast and wrinkled up her nose. "I hate this whole grain stuff. The nuts get in my teeth."

"Then, get your own toast." I grabbed the piece back. "Why should I leave?"

"I can take time to explain things, or later we can talk about how next time you should listen to me," Kelsie said, pointing a pink nail in my face.

I opened my mouth to argue the point, but there was a rustle at the front of the room and Joel hopped up onto one of the tables.

"Too late," Kelsie groaned.

Joel clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. "As the student council president I would like to call a town meeting."

I raised an eyebrow at Kelsie, who gave me a look that said I should have made a run for it when I had the chance. Town meetings are an Evesham tradition. If someone has a gripe-ranging from someone playing their music too loud (or playing music someone else can't stand) to the need for more organic veggies for the salad bar-then we are supposed to talk it out over one of our meals. It's supposed to remind us of how we would have talked over issues with our families over a dinner table. The truth is most of Evesham's students didn't have family dinners, unless you count sitting down with your nanny over fish sticks while your parents go to some fancy fund-raiser.

Joel nodded to one of the tables, and I saw Mandy Gallaway get up. She pulled her uniform skirt down and paused long enough to make sure everyone was watching her walk to the front of the room.

"Uh-oh," I said softly under my breath.

Kelsie grabbed the last piece of my toast. "File this experience under, 'Next time I will pay attention to my best friend when she gives me advice.'"

"I wanted to bring up the issue of having to be on restriction." Mandy looked around the room. "I think it's unfair that we're all on lockdown when only one person did something wrong."

There were a few grumbles from other people in the cafeteria. I stared down at my eggs so I didn't have to meet anyone's eyes. Did they think this was my idea? If Mandy wanted to go into town and flash a nipple or her thong at a random photographer, it was fine by me. If they wanted to gripe, they should take it up with Winston.

"Hailey, can you come up here and join us while we talk this out?" Joel asked.

I looked up from my eggs, my stomach flipping over. I pointed a finger at my chest, on the off chance that Joel had another Hailey in mind. He nodded, and Mandy crossed her arms over her chest with a smirk. With everyone's eyes on me, I figured bolting from the room was out. Taking a deep breath, I stood up and walked slowly to the front.

"Dean Winston imposed restriction on all of us as a way to demonstrate how we're connected. What impacts one of us impacts all of us," Joel said in his best presidential voice.

"I don't think Hailey cares how what she did impacts all of us," Mandy said. "She isn't showing Evesham school spirit. I haven't been able to go into town. I know Hailey thinks sticking up for this guy is important, but what I want to do is important too."

I fought the urge to push Mandy into a pile of pancakes. I could picture the syrup running down her face, slicking her hair down to her head.

"Of course everyone has their own unique wants and feelings, and all of those are important. Does anyone else want to share how this situation is affecting them?" Joel offered.

I turned to look at Joel. Was he kidding? I pulled on his shirt so we were closer.

"Why are you doing this?" I hissed into his ear.