Ten minutes later, she was already waiting for me downstairs. I hadn’t even had time for a shower or to grab a bite to eat.

“You look terrible,” she said when she saw me.

“Good morning to you too.”

“And what are you wearing?” She stared at my shirt.

“Oh, it’s Jack’s,” I said, and when she shot me a droll look, I added, “You didn’t exactly give me enough time to get ready!” The truth was that I liked wearing his Superman tee, the cotton soft from years of use, and even though I’d washed it since he gave it to me, sometimes I could still catch a hint of peppermint.

“Okay, whatever,” she said. “Get in.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

“Can we at least get something to eat on the way?” I complained. “I’m starving.”

“Fine, fine.”

• • •

“What am I looking at here?” I asked when she pulled up to the school. They’d chained together the metal bar gates at the entrance and we had to go on foot.

“You’ll see, come on!” she said, pulling me along by the wrist. It was strange, being on campus during break. It was completely deserted, the parking lots empty, the silence almost oppressive.

“What are we doing here?” I asked as we went around to the back doors, the entrance to the gym.

“You’ll see,” she repeated before pulling out a set of keys.

“Where’d you get those?” I asked, alarmed.

She shrugged. “On Friday. Don’t worry, I’ll make copies and make sure Ms. Corkern gets them back.” Corkern taught sophomore chem. I didn’t have her but Elise probably did. I remembered how she’d swiped that substitute teacher’s car keys with no one noticing, not even me. Ms. Corkern also coached softball, which meant she’d have a key to the gym for early or late practices. So that was how they got in.

“What about—” Inside, I looked up at where the cameras were positioned.

“Don’t worry, we took care of them last night. It was dark and we were wearing all black, our faces covered.”

I squinted, looking at the cameras closer. “You—”

“—are awesome?” she finished for me with a laugh. “A genius? I’m aware.” She’d cut the power supply line behind each one of them. “Come on.” She took me by the hand, dragging me along as I gaped at all the disabled security cameras along the way. She finally stopped at a classroom in the language arts hall. “Ready?” she said, hand positioned over the doorknob.

I nodded, confused, until we entered and I saw Mr. Dawkins’s nameplate on the teacher’s desk.

“Ta-da!” Elise said with a wide sweep of her arm, smiling at her grand destruction.

“Oh my God.” She’d outdone herself, they all had. All the student desks had been stacked into four towers that reached the ceiling. His desk had been egged. Silly string coated the walls, along with what looked like some kind of slime. And then there was what they’d written on the whiteboard. It was a satirical take on kindergarten rules, complete with cutesy decorations. Stay in your seat, raise your hand, walk, don’t run, say please and thank you—the usual suspects. Then there was the last one, which was simply, “Don’t be a perv.”