Dan had torn out the page from the eight hundreds about his family and finished his list. He’d tried to convince himself that he didn’t want the comments to boomerang back to his father or mother, but the truth was he wasn’t ready to write about those feelings and wasn’t sure when he ever would be. That said, he felt Oglesby’s “but” coming a mile away.

“But . . .” Oglesby turned away from Dan and slowly directed his stick at another sophomore. “Mr. Gilchrist has the same ninety-four point eight average. And his journal was not a week late. Which means this comes down to our latest vocab quiz.”

Oglesby pulled a folder from his pack and found Chad’s and Dan’s tests to compare. Dan sat back at his desk and watched. And waited. And then finally Oglesby raised his eyes and looked at Dan, only to shake his head with a sad smile.

Oh no.

“Mr. Malone, what does ‘indolent’ mean?”

Shit. “Lazy.”

“And ‘insolent’?”

“Rude.”

Oglesby grimaced. “You got them backward on the quiz, I’m afraid. Which means your average will drop below Mr. Gilchrist’s, who is our third nominee. Mr. Gilchrist, please come forward.”

“Oh, that sucks, Malone,” Flanagan cackled.

Dan’s face flushed, and his insides heaved themselves up into his chest. How did I fuck that up? Dan wanted to protest. Gilchrist took a victory lap to the front of the room, patted on the back by Rick and others. A rictus of anger flashed across Dan’s face as he slouched back in his chair. He was about to crumble, but through his misery there was a tiny stoic voice in the back of his mind that told him Oglesby might be testing him. The path of the Norwegian rat is never easy. This too is a trial. As this trawled through Dan’s thoughts, Oglesby turned to his backpack and pulled a copy of Ficciones and three rubber brown rats from his backpack, placing them out on the teacher’s desk like trophies. Dan’s heart ached at the sight of them.

Oglesby raised Diviner in Excalibur fashion. “To attain the order of Rattus norvegicus, you must undergo a mental trial. Gentlemen, are you ready?”

They all nodded as he began the incantation.

“Then repeat after me.” He held up the Borges and turned to the following cite. “‘To think, analyze and invent . . .’”

“‘To think, analyze and invent . . .’”

“‘. . . are not anomalous acts, but the normal respiration of the intelligence. To glorify the occasional fulfillment of this function, to treasure ancient thoughts of others, to remember with incredulous amazement that the doctor universalis thought, is to confess our languor or barbarism.’”

Dan sat there—too sick with himself to pay attention. I did all this extra shit and it’s still not good enough. That goddamn white elephant list. This is such bullshit.