I have to backpedal on the flunking thing when my father starts talking about more time spent on homework and less time spent with my friends.

But at least I circumvented another conversation about people deserving to die.

The Spirit publishes a pro/con editorial about the Guardian Angels.

On the pro side is that they’re keeping the streets safer just by being seen. They don’t even have to take action most of the time.

On the con side is the potential for things to get out of control. For the Angels to overstep their rights and piss off the police. For people to get hurt by a group of civilians trying to enforce laws they may not understand.

Neither article is bylined, and Becky avoids my stare when she hands the copies out in class. But later I see her smile cryptically when some kids are debating the issue in the hall.

After school, Becky and I meet to work on our final project for Mr. Solomon’s class on the meaning of happiness. Which really means we’re hanging out in my room with James, talking about it.

We already read about things that affect quality of life like money, marital status, and friendship. Then we created a form asking kids in the class about people they know who seem happy. Asking them to list the things that make them happy.

It ends with this question: I feel most happy when (fill in the blank).

I feel most happy when everyone gets out of my way, says Becky.

What about you? I ask James.

He thinks while he rubs the nap of his black velvet pants in the wrong direction, leaving dark lines in the fabric. I’m happy when I’m creating something that wasn’t there before. When I’m changing the world for the better, even in a small way, he answers finally.

What about you? he asks me.

I think and think, long enough that Becky has to flip over Bowie’s latest LP and still I can’t come up with an answer.

Somehow the conversation turns to Gabriel.

It’s not fair that we haven’t met him yet, Becky says. After all, you’ve both known Andy for years.

Known would be pushing it, don’t you think, kitten? James says in his best fake Cockney accent. He’s putting it on. Even when he’s drunk, which he’s not, given that it’s four in the afternoon and we’re sitting in my room and not a bar, James’s real hint of accent is pure posh London.

You can stop at any time, Becky says.

I’m only looking out for you, he answers.

If I were you, I’d…

Hey. Don’t make me stop the car, I interrupt. I try to turn it into a joke. But really, I’m not sure I can handle them fighting. It’s a gift that James is even here and trying to take some time off from the show.

I don’t know what it means that neither of us told Becky about James coming with me to Echo.