During the moments I managed to withdraw my attention from Jane, I couldn’t believe the amount of shit that Courtney, S.D., and another one of the seniors were giving to one of the freshmen. Do this, don’t do that, do this over again only do it right this time, and while you’re there, pushead, get this and tell so and so something else. On the double! I asked S.D. why they were giving the little kid so much grief, and she said it was because the girl had an “attitude.” Meaning she wasn’t kissing anyone’s ass.

The moment the freshman returned with dessert she was ordered back to the kitchen for seconds.

“I’ll get it,” I said. “Have something to eat.”

“No, you won’t get anything,” said Courtney. “I addressed her and like don’t interfere. Besides, guys aren’t allowed in the kitchen.”

“Then I’ll go in drag,” I said, smiling, as I stood up.

“Sit down!” Courtney screamed. “Now!”

I stopped smiling. “Then send someone else,” I said. I held the girl’s hand and kept her from returning to the kitchen.

“Don’t tell me who to send, buster. I’m the head of this table, so you just shut up and eat.”

Suddenly Jane Weston darted from the table. She was in the kitchen before anyone could stop her. Courtney was fuming. S.D. was shooting me daggers. When Jane returned, Courtney stood and said, “Weston, don’t ever again dare pull that crap with me. I-tell-who-does-what. Okay? You got it?”

“Sorry, Sarge,” Jane said.

Three minutes hadn’t passed and Courtney was telling the freshman to clear the table. When the girl tried to wolf down one last forkful of chow, Courtney grabbed her wrist and said, “Now!”

I slammed my hand on the table and said, “Leave her alone, you twat!” Maybe not the best choice of words. You could’ve heard an ant fart.

“That’s five hours,” Courtney said, “and you can shove off now, buster.”

S.D. was glaring at me as if I’d cut her Bloomie’s card in half.

I felt nervous. The girls’ ears at the surrounding tables seemed to focus in my direction. The freshman was frantically clearing the table when I stood up. I put my plate on the tray for her. “Good luck,” I said.

At this, Courtney let out an absolutely witchy cry, banged her fists on the table, and shrieked, “Get out!”

I was more than happy to. For a second I’d had this awful vision of being forced to duke it out with Courtney, the two of us rolling in the aisle amidst a ring of chanting women. As I was leaving, Jane Weston said, “Bye.”