Mike was so sure of himself that he didn’t notice the hush that fell over the auditorium on the other side of the curtain.

So Héctor went in for the kill.

“Why do you call me that?” Héctor asked. “Why can’t you two just leave me alone?”

Mike actually laughed. “Why not? I can do whatever I want to you.”

“Not anymore,” Héctor said, and he slowly stepped back, out of the light. “I won’t let you.”

“How are you going to stop us?” Mike asked. “Everyone is always going to believe me over you. Ms. Heath. Mrs. Caroline. And anyone who doesn’t . . . well, what are they going to do?”

Mike stepped into the center of the beam of light.

“I run this school,” he declared.

“No, you don’t,” said Héctor.

He looked over to Sal.

“Now!”

It all happened so fast. Sal pulled furiously on the lever that activated the curtains, and light burst onto the stage as they were wrenched open.

There was a collective gasp from the people in the auditorium.

And Mike—who looked back to Héctor with fury on his face—leaped forward, his hands on Héctor’s chest, and Héctor hit the stage hard. Fire bloomed in his right leg. He struggled to breathe, to cry out in pain, but the wind was knocked out of him. He watched in horror as Mike raised his arm up, balled his fist and—

“Don’t move another muscle!”

Mike froze.

Both Héctor and Mike looked in the direction of that familiar voice. There, at the edge of the stage, was the shadowed form of Ms. Heath, her fists dug into her hips.

Héctor couldn’t see her face, but she sounded furious.

“Mike Kimball, what do you think you are doing?”

Mike sat upright, and the pain flared again up Héctor’s leg.

“And don’t you go anywhere, Mr. Thomas!” Ms. Heath barked.

Héctor saw that Frank had been trying to sneak away.

Steps pounded up the stairs on stage left near Frank, and Vice Principal Giles stormed into view, burly like a linebacker, the light from the auditorium shining off the dark skin on his shaved head. “Did I hear what I thought I heard?” he bellowed. “Mr. Kimball, Mr. Thomas, you will both meet me in my office right now.”

Mike finally stood up, and he sputtered out a few guttural sounds. “I didn’t do anything!” he finally screamed. “It was his fault!”

“You expect us to believe that?” Ms. Heath shouted back. “After what we just heard?”

“Heard?”

Mike looked from Ms. Heath down to Héctor. Héctor let the grimace wash off his face and smiled.

“The stage microphones were on the whole time,” he said.

The color drained from Mike’s face. “That’s not possible,” he said.