"Marisol, can you hold on for a second," Gabe said as his class started to file out when the bell rang. Marisol stopped and waited for the rest of the class to leave.

"What's up?" she asked once she and her teacher were alone.

"Well, I need a favor from you," he said as they both leaned on his desk.

"Mr. Iglesias, I already told you, I can't slip you any extra nuggets at the drive through," Marisol assumed what his ask would be.

"It's not that, though that would be awesome of you," here said, looking at her hopefully. Marisol shook her head. Gabe shrugged ruefully. "Well, moving on… you're on your way to lunch, right?"

"Trying to."

"When you get there, I need you to read the room."

"Read the room?" Marisol asked, looking at him as if he'd lost it for a second.

"Yeah, you know, look around, take stock of the rich, the famous, the beautiful people," Gabe clarified, changing his voice to that of over exaggerated red carpet reporter. Marisol laughed at the impression. "Mostly, I need you to see who's hanging with who," he added.

"So you want me to… people watch?" Gabe nodded. "Anything or anyone in particular you want me looking out for?"

"You'll know it when you see it," he said.

"Alright," Marisol trailed off as she started walking out of the class.

"Thank you! This is why you're my favorite student. Hey, can we revisit those extra nuggets?"

"Not happening," Gabe heard Marisol shout back. He shrugged again in answer.

Marisol was walking away from the lunch line, casually glancing at the tables. She didn't see what he was talking about as far as the other students were concerned. Then again, the cafeteria looked completely normal to her… crowded. Finally, she reached the table that Mikey, Walt, Lorenzo, and Grace were sitting at and took a seat.

"A little late aren't you?" Mikey asked as he looked over the food on her tray.

"Sorry, Mr. Iglesias asked me to stay after class," Marisol told him.

"Uh-oh, looks like someone finally got caught," Walt blurted out.

Marisol laughed sarcastically. "No, he asked for a favor, actually."

"Extra nuggets or fries?" Grace asked.

"Neither, something about…," she trailed off, wondering if she should say anything to them about what he'd asked of her. Considering she didn't really know what he meant, she figured best not to get them started on questions. "Never mind, he wasn't really making any sense," she waived off the thought.

But, as she ate, she did her best to split her attention between listening to her friends and looking around the cafeteria. What she saw was study in cliques. There were tables filled with students who weren't really a part of any particular group, just a group of friends – kind of like her and her friends. Then there were the actual groups: the band members, the yearbook and newspaper kids, the basketball team, the baseball team, and the football team – where Rakeem was sitting.

Her eyes kept scanning, not seeing anything out of place. The Science Club, the Spanish, and the Cheerleaders, all there, she thought. She kept looking, her gaze coming to the Honors Kids who looked to be studying while they ate. She kept scanning and stopped when she got two tables away from the Honors Kid's table.

What the, she said mentally as she looked at Whitney sitting by herself. The blonde honor student was eating a salad, her head down, not looking around at anyone. Marisol noticed that she didn't even have her books out. "Hey guys," she said, getting her friends attention. "Why is Whitney eating by herself instead of with the Honors kids?"

All of them turned to look where the Honors kids sat and saw that Marisol was right. Mikey just shrugged, and Grace just turned back to the table. "Maybe it's some kind of Survivor style ritual."

"That would mean cameras… which means we're being watched right now," Lorenzo said looking around, his voice growing paranoid. "I knew it," he added as he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt and pulled the ties tight, cinching the hood tight around his face.

While everyone else just let Lorenzo have his moment, Marisol looked at him with her usual look of "What the hell?"

It was the end of the day, and Gabe was writing tomorrow's lesson on the board. Suddenly, he was startled from behind as he heard, "Hey, Mr. Iglesias," come from Marisol. He turned and faced his best student.

"Well…?" he asked expectantly as he came around and stood in front of his desk.

"I think I know what you're talking about. Or more specifically, who you're talking about," she said as she leaned on the top of her desk. "Whitney?"

Gabe nodded.

"Yeah, Mr. Ochoa told me that since they got back this semester they've been kind of giving her the cold shoulder."

"I was in that class, they give each other the cold shoulder normally," Marisol replied.

"But he says they're going a little further. The first day back, she found her desk moved to the back corner of the room. They barely talk to her. And, when he tried to assign a group project, every group requested to have her taken out whenever he tried to put her in one. She finally had to request to work alone just to settle things," Gabe informed Marisol. Marisol remembered from her short time in the honors class what it was like. "They're not a team," she remembered telling Mr. Iglesias about them. She then remembered Whitney's words to her just before she talked to Mr. Iglesias: "Every person for themselves." But, even they wouldn't go that far, would they?

"I know they're all about making sure they benefit themselves, but as bad as they are to each other sometimes, why would they basically be treating her like candy corn at Halloween?" she asked him.

"Well, apparently they don't take losing well – they're not used to it," Gabe answered her. "And since she was the one got the tiebreaker question wrong –"

"They're blaming her," Marisol finished for him. Gabe nodded. "So, what's that got to do with me watching her eat alone?"

"Something tells me that the in a situation like this, the Honor's kids will have a long memory, and this might go on for a while. So, I was thinking that –"

"Oh God, really?" Marisol interrupted him, knowing where he was going, and not liking the idea at all.

"I think the change in scenery will do her good."

"Can't Mr. Ochoa just sit her next to the window for that?"

"Marisol, come on, she's basically being bullied by an entire class. She needs this," Gabe told her, trying to appeal to Marisol's sense of decency.

"Can't Ms. Spencer take her?"

"She could, and she offered."

"Well, there you go," Marisol replied, hoping she could nip his idea in the bud.

"But I said she'd be better challenged in here." Marisol looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "In here she'll have someone who can keep up with her, that way she'll at least have a familiar situation."

"Keep up with her?"

"Yes, and imagine how much better you could get with someone around to actually give you a run for your money," Gabe tried, now hoping to appeal to Marisol's competitiveness.

"Run for my money? Please, that girl wishes she was a good as me," Marisol replied. Gabe was glad that she couldn't hear him going, "Yes!" inside his head. "You're not gonna give up on this are you?" Marisol asked, beginning to resign her herself to the realization that this was going to happen, whether she wanted it to or not. Gabe shook his head. "Ugh, alright, fine."

"Great, I'll tell Ms. Madison that she can finalize the transfer, you won't regret this," he said, speaking quickly.

"Wait a minute… finalize? You mean you already had her transferred?" Marisol asked, somewhere between angry and shocked.

"Marisol, even though I ran the idea by you, I don't actually need to run the idea by you," Gabe told her, hoping he didn't sound insulting.

"Then why tell me?" she asked, genuinely upset.

"Because I figured it was better to let you know it was gonna happen, rather than let it happen and you feel ambushed. And, this way, you can convince everyone else to give her a chance," he smiled.

Marisol just looked at him liked he was insane.