小说园

第27部分（第2页）

“Yes；　I　am。　But　thanks　for　thinking　about　me。”　I　eyed　her　and　said；　“And　Darla？　Its　not　a

given　anymore。”

She　laughed。　“How　longs　this　diet　gonna　last？”

“Its　not　a　diet。　Ive　just；　uh；　lost　my　taste　for　him。”

She　looked　at　me　skeptically。　“Uh…huh。”

“Well；　I　have。　But　thanks　for；　you　know；　caring。”

All　through　first　period　I　was　still　feeling　strong　and　right　and　certain；　but　then　Mrs。　Simmons

ended　the　lesson　a　full　fifteen　minutes　early　and　said；

“Clear　your　desks　of　everything　but　a　pen　or　pencil。”

“What？”　everyone　cried；　and　believe　me—I　was　right　along　with　them。　I　was　not　prepared　for

a　quiz！

“Everything！”　she　said。　“e　on；　youre　wasting　valuable　time。”

The　room　filled　with　grumbles　and　the　sound　of　shuffling　binders；　and　when　wed　all　pretty

much　plied　with　her　request；　she　picked　a　stack　of

bright　yellow　papers　off　her　desk；　fanned　them　with　an　evil　grin；　and　said；　“Its　time　to　vote　for

basket　boys！”

A　wave　of　relief　swept　across　the　room。　“Basket　boys？　You　mean　its　not　a　quiz？”

She　ticked　through　the　stack；　counting　ballots　as　she　spoke。　“It　is　like　a　quiz　in　that　I　dont

want　you　conferring　with　one　another。　Its　also　like　a　quiz

in　that　you　have　a　limited　amount　of　time。”　She　slapped　a　set　of　ballots　down　on　the　first　desk

of　row　one；　then　went　on　to　the　second　row。　“I　will

collect　them　from　you　individually　when　the　bell　rings；　and　I　will　inspect　to　see　that　you　have

plied　with　the　following　instructions。”　She　scooted

over　to　row　three。　“Choose　five；　and　only　five；　of　the　boys　on　the　list。　Do　not　put　your　name

on　it；　and　do　not　discuss　your　choices　with　your

neighbors。”　She　was　on　to　row　four　now；　talking　faster　and　faster。　“When　youve　made　your

selections；　simply　turn　your　sheet　over。”　She　slapped　the

remainder　down　on　the　last　desk。　“Do　not；　I　repeat；　do　not　fold　your　ballot！”

Robbie　Castinon　raised　his　hand　and　blurted　out；　“Why　do　guys　have　to　vote。　Its　lame　to

have　guys　vote。”

“Robbie　…；”　Mrs。　Simmons　warned。

“Seriously！　What　are　we　supposed　to　do？　Vote　for　our　friends　or　our　enemies？”

A　lot　of　people　snickered；　and　Mrs。　Simmons　scowled；　but　he　had　a　point。　Twenty　of　the

schools　eighth…grade　boys　would　be　made　to　pack　a