Jason held Quinn's books. "Excuse me, Quinn." He put the books down in the hallway. "Now step off, you dumb Spic greaser."

Clayton smiled. "You think you can make me?"

Jason's pleasant countenance turned sour. Clayton's smile was temporarily dented at the end of Jason's fist, which arrived forthwith.

Clayton had the height and leverage; Jason had more endurance. This was a real fight, or would have been if the two didn't look like fifth graders fighting at McDonald's. The fight had to make up in energy what it lacked in pugilistic skill.

A circle formed around the combatants. It was a great first day. Quinn was positively giddly. "Oh guys...you don't have to fight over me! Really...it's not necessary...! Please...stoppp."

(* * *)

Patrick Hackney came into the small room that served as the History II room. It was history for boys, not for girls. Fielding might be co-ed, but the Bitchmas Accords (as they were called in Fielding tradition) mandated that the genders were segregated instructionally. The teacher was female, but the students were all male.

Hackney threw his books down. Tom Sloane looked up. "You rang?"

"Oh Pope, I've fallen in love!"

"Again?" Tom smiled. "All right, Pat. Come to Pope Thomas, and tell us what young lady has led you astray from your life of celibacy."

"She has long red hair and a perfect smile, and her name is Quinn Morgendorffer. I intend to make this young red flower mine. I'm in...to win...for Quinn."

"Morgendorffer," thought Tom. "I've heard the name, but I can't remember where. And you think I'd remember a name like that."

"She's a new girl," Pat said. "You've not heard about the blood that was spilled?"

"What?"

"Jason and Clayton had it out. Jason was carrying Quinn's books and Clayton began striking up a conversation with Quinn." Pat mimicked Clayton's Texas drawl with a trace of a Boston accent. "Hey there little lady, my name's Clayton Arbusto. I'd surrrre like to get to know you better." Well, Jason took offense."

"Jason Pratt unstraightened his tie?" Tom asked. "Oh my, my, my!"

"Yep. Punches were thrown. Both got called up to the Head. Clayton has a black eye, Jason Pratt will be working with the Mexicans out on the lawn for the next two weeks, and I consider both out of the running. The field is wide fucking open."

"Why I can't believe it!" It was the flamboyant Terry Wicklemore. "You're gutter diving."

"Sir," said Pat, "there is nothing wrong with the concept. Ask His Holiness over here. I would dive down ten miles to the bottom of the dirty Mississippi for some private time with Quinn, even though raw sewage."

"Patrick Hackney the seventh is going to get his cuffs scuffed?" Terry asked. "The world turned upside down. And what's Mum going to say?"

"'Mum' is not going to know, because no one is going to tell her, especially you, you fag."

"And what's dear Sue Bentley going to say?" asked Tom.

"Fuck Sue," Pat said. "I'm tired of Sue. I'm tired of her incessant demands, none of which are for coitus."

"You can't Drop a Top," Tom said. "Dropping Sue Bentley for some anonymous girl at the coffee shop? That's out of my sister's Wodehouse novels. Pat, they'll demote you one ordinal number. We'll have to call you Patrick Hackney the sixth from now on."

"Falling to five-and-a-half, with a bullet," Terry sang.

"It shows you what the two of you know. Terry," said Pat, "we're talking about women, and not guys, so fuck your useless knowledge. As for you, Pope, you don't even fish in this pond. Some of the fellows are getting together and there will be a new list."

"That's in October," said Tom. "Which means one month of Hail Mary Full of Graces Sue Bentley is with me for you."

"No," said Pat. "Out with the old, in with the new I say." Which, Tom thought, would be the first time that Pat Hackney VII ever turned tradition aside.

(* * *)

At 2:30 pm, as every member of the Tops checked her Blackberry, each young Fielding woman found the following message:

EMERGENCY meeting at 6:45 pm
be THERE!
-Eddie

Surely enough, after dinner, twenty young women met in the Chapel basement for the impromptu Tops meeting. The youngest of the girls was thirteen, the oldest was eighteen. All of them were attractive and poised young women, well dressed, well versed in the difference between a Louis Vutton and a Canal Street "Frauda". What would have been impossible to notice is that each wore an inscribed gold bracelet.

A young woman with dark black hair in a pony tail and impossibly long legs stood up and rattled her bracelet. "Tops, Tops!" she cried.

Everyone else stood up. "Tops, Tops!" was the call and response.

The group sat down. Edmonda "Eddie" Sterling was the Tops Chair. "Topisiennes, I'm calling an emergency meeting because the boys are asking for a new Tops list to be released."

The response was immediate. "Term just started!" cried Sue Bentley. "The boys have to have a chance to look around, at least. Tops List doesn't even begin until October." It looked for a few seconds as if a riot would break out.

"Quiet!" Eddie shouted. "Well, the boys want to start the Tops List now. There's some new girl that has everyone has fallen in love with. Some poor girl named Quinn Morgendorffer."

"Definitely Enn Oh Kay Dee," Sue Bentley answered. "She has a fugly sister called Daria. I have Anderson in maths with her."

"Has anyone even seen this Quinn Morgenwhatever?" a blond with Paris Hilton bangs asked. "I don't know her."

"Well, the boys know her," Eddie said. "They were all bumping into each other like a bunch of rutting pigs. You heard about that fight in the hallway between Jason Pratt and Clayton Arbusto?"

"They're going to put some slut in Tops?" Sue Bentley's voice went from piano to fortissimo. "We'll just take Tops away from them," Bentley said. "We'll decide who gets into Tops and who doesn't."

"Now now, Sue," said Eddie. "Don't let's get carried away. Does anyone know Quinn Morgendorffer?"

A hand went up. "I know her!" It was a well dressed young woman named Emily Drake. "She's got fashion sense. Very pleasant. Totally not a bitch. Kathy Griffin red hair, long, scrunchie. Pins on the blazer, and she rolled her skirt when she came in the door. Good shoes, expensive, but she could do better. Nice accessories. Pearls."

"I saw her too," said another young woman. "She's in my English class. I chatted with her. Nice. But she's no brain. However she got to Fielding, it wasn't on merit, because she doesn't parlez la bouche."

"Well nice or not," said Eddie, "Topisiennes are more than just ordinary pretty girls. Tops is for Tops, not for those genetic lottery winners riding poles in flyover towns. I need to know more about her. Katey," Eddie said, pointing to a fourteen-year old girl, "see if she's a lege." The word was pronounced "leZH".

"Got it."

"Freeze her out, for now. Don't let's get too friendly with her. We have to know more about her before we lower ourselves. We can decide what to do later, but make no enemies before we know if she's hooked up."

"Don't put your socks in a dirty puddle," Sue added. "Remember...not our kind." Her Blackberry buzzed. "Oh shit. It's Pat. What does he want?"

Sue, it's over. Get lost. I want my ring back.

--Pat VII

There might have been a rest of the Tops meeting, but Sue Bentley never heard any of it.