The picture of Mike Lyle hitting the water was well documented, and everybody has seen it and has an opinion about how it happened. Mike can’t swim, so it took both football teams to get him out of the deep end of the pool without anyone else getting drowned. The event went viral, and every shot seems to have a picture of me in it, too, still in hot pink, leaving the scene of the crime. So Rack and Angel have once again decided I’m a rich snob, poor Mike being my victim, and they’ve spread it all over town that I think I can get away with anything because my mother’s the principal. Apparently, he caught a sniffle that night, like it’s my fault he can’t swim. He should have watched where he was going. No matter how I logic it out, I still can’t figure out how anybody thinks I even could have pushed him in, but it doesn’t matter. Everybody is mad at me anyway, and reason would just be wasted on them. Rack tells everybody that Grimshaw told her that Mike said if he sees me, he’ll kill me, even though it wasn’t my fault he fell in her swimming pool. Maybe everybody just got tired of me, since all I do is study, anyway. Grimshaw takes no position one way or the other. She now has a full-time job named Mike, and he hardly lets her out of his sight. The gold Corvette is in front of the high school in the morning and again in the afternoon. I have fewer friends than ever, and a lot more enemies, but it’s not like I have time for them anyway. It turns out the beginning of the year was just a joke academically, and now in order to stay abreast of my schoolwork, I have to learn everything I was too smart to learn during my first three years of high school. After homecoming, I turn in my cheerleading sweater, and so weekends come and go, bringing with them only deadlines for more tests and more papers, which rise up and get beaten back like the tide.