I eyed him warily. ‘Oh? How so?’

‘Well, I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but Heather was the sophomore class vice president, and now that she’s gone, we’ve been collecting nominations for a new VP. Well, believe it or not, you’ve been nominated. Twelve times so far.’

My eyes must have bugged out of my head. I forgot all about how I had to go and see Father Dominic. ‘Twelve times?’

‘Yes, I know, it’s unusual, isn’t it?’

I couldn’t believe it. ‘But I’ve only been coming here one day!’

‘Well, you’ve made quite an impression. I myself would guess that you didn’t exactly make any enemies yesterday when you offered to break Debbie Mancuso’s fingers after school. She is not one of the better-liked girls in the class.’

I stared at him. So Mr Walden had overheard my little threat. The fact that he had and not sent me straight to detention made me appreciate him in a way I’d never appreciated a teacher before.

‘Oh, and I guess your pushing Bryce Martinson out of the way of that flying chunk of wood – that probably didn’t hurt much, either,’ he added.

‘Wow,’ I said. I guess I probably don’t need to point out that at my old school, I wouldn’t exactly have won any popularity contests. I never even bothered going out for cheerleading or running for homecoming queen. Besides the fact that at my old school cheerleading was considered a stupid waste of time and in Brooklyn it isn’t exactly a compliment to be called a queen, I never would have made either one. And no one – no one – had ever nominated me before for anything.

I was way too flattered to follow my initial instinct, which was to say, ‘Thanks, but no thanks,’ and run.

‘Well,’ I said, instead, ‘what does the vice president of the sophomore class have to do?’

Mr Walden shrugged. ‘Help the president determine how to spend the class budget, mostly. It’s not much, just a little over three thousand dollars. Kelly and Heather were planning on using the money to hold a dance over at the Carmel Inn, but—’

‘Three thousand dollars?’ My mouth was probably hanging open, but I didn’t care.

‘Yes, I know it’s not much—’

‘And we can spend it anyway we want?’ My mind was spinning. ‘Like, if we wanted to have a bunch of cookouts down at the beach, we could do that?’

Mr Walden looked down at me curiously. ‘Sure. You have to have the approval of the rest of the class, though. I have a feeling there might be some noises from administration about using the class money to mend the statue of Father Serra, but—’

But whatever Mr Walden had been about to say, he didn’t get a chance to finish. Cee Cee came running back into the classroom, her purple eyes wide behind the tinted prescription lenses of her glasses.

‘Come quick!’ she yelled. ‘There’s been an accident! Father Dominic and Bryce Martinson—’