I sat at my desk and waited. It was Friday, so Coach Morris didn’t make us do much. He usually had us do a word find or let us read to ourselves. When we didn’t have much work to do though, the Erins made themselves busy with me. It would be easy to ignore them if Weston didn’t sit right behind me. But for whatever reason, when he was around, their jabs felt more humiliating.

“All right, hoodlums. Pull out a book and read. TGIF.”

Ten minutes hadn’t yet passed when I heard someone whisper my name—possibly my name. A few seconds later, it was louder, and I recognized the voice as Sonny’s. She was trying to get my attention. I didn’t dare turn around. Any hope of comprehending the words on the page in front of me was lost. I just stared at one word and hoped Sonny wouldn’t catch the coach’s attention.

Coach Morris perked up and nodded to the back of the class. “Yes?”

Sonny lowered her hand and sat tall in her seat with a smug expression. “I was just wondering what the school policy is on the AIDS virus.”

“What do you mean?” Coach asked.

“If one of the students has tested positive for AIDS, what does the school do to protect the rest of the students?”

“Why do you ask?” The curious light in the coach’s eyes had extinguished, and it was obvious that he knew Erin was up to something.

“I just heard today that one of our students has it, and everyone is nervous.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s contagious, and no one wants to die just because some skank wants to punish everyone else for her loose ways.”

“Loose ways,” Coach Morris deadpanned. “I can explain the school policy with you in detail after seventh period if you’d like.”

“I have cheer,” Erin said, annoyed that her plan didn’t work. “I’m sure the entire class would feel better hearing what you have to say.”

Coach sighed. “I think it’s more likely that you’re helping to spread a cruel rumor.”

A collective tittering made its way through the classroom.

“That’s offensive,” Sonny said. “What are you again? A karmologist?”

Coach chuckled. “Kinesiologist.”

“That’s what I said. You’d think a graduate of health science would typically consider my concern valid.”

Coach didn’t hesitate. “Common sense disagrees. Read your book. No more talking.”

His perceptive remark saved me from further ridicule for now, but the senior meeting after school was going to be considerably less fun.

“What are you reading?” A deep voice asked.

I barely acknowledged Weston’s question, holding up the cover of my book high enough for him to see.

He nodded, waiting for me to speak. When I didn’t, he offered a small smile, and sat back.

“What are you reading?” I asked.

Weston immediately leaned toward me, holding up his cover the way I had.

“Piers Anthony?”

Weston cleared his throat to stifle a cough then smiled. “I like his stuff.”

I nodded. “I approve.”