The last day of the school week

Emma sighed. It was a gray September morning, and she felt out of it. Spanish had never been her strong suit; she was at least thankful the teacher was out, giving the class a study hall. But Trent could tell something else was bothering her.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Like you would care."

"You'd be surprised by how much I do, regardless of whether I know you. So what's the trouble?"

Emma looked Trent over, decided he could be trusted enough, and began. "Two days ago, Mrs. O'Halloran called my sister and I into her office. She said that she didn't want us hanging around the Misfits anymore, and we'd get in trouble if we disobeyed her." She put her head down. "Why, every time I try to make friends, something bad happens to me?"

"Not much I can do about Blaineley," Trent admitted. "She's narrow-minded, elitist, and so vain she puts Anne Maria to shame."

"I HEARD DAT!" someone yelled from the other side of the room.

Trent quickly dodged an incoming can of hairspray. After he recovered, he continued. "Blaineley comes from a world where the lines between cliques and the freaks were well-defined. But the cliques come with strings attached, rules and social norms that dictate everything the members do."

"What about the Misfits?" Emma asked, picking up her head.

"No dice. They're too diverse for the rules of social groups to apply, and as a result they don't have any. And that's proving to make them very popular with new kids. People are starting to find that, hey, I like this freedom these guys offer, they don't care if I'm weird, they are too."

"And Blaineley's afraid of that?"

"Deathly. I've heard her babble about a future when the lines between groups cease to exist. Or as she puts it, the day when the jock and the joke are of equal standing."

"So she was trying to keep me from empowering them to satisfy her ridiculous little cult," Emma finished, angry. "That [b word]. Who gave her the authority to do that? Not me. When I graduate, I'm going to sue her."

"Ooh, ambitious."

Emma sighed. "Oh, who am I kidding?! It'd take a miracle to get me out from under her."

"EVERYONE WHO RECEIVED A SLIP OF PAPER IN THE MAIL WEDNESDAY, PLEASE REPORT TO THE AUDITORIUM," the loudspeaker system boomed with an unfamiliar voice. "THAT MEANS MOVE YOUR BE-HINDS, MAGGOTS!"

"You were saying about a miracle?" Trent asked as he, Emma, and the girl named Anne Maria left the room (the latter not before retrieving her hairspray).

"Shut up, Trent."

The auditorium began to pile in students.

"Cameron! Sam! Glad we're going to wherever it is together," Cody said smoothly to an overweight boy with curly reddish-brown hair and a skinny African-Canadian kid in a hoodie, both of whom were wearing glasses, as he walked through the seats. "Tom and Jen, looking great as always," he said to two very sharply-dressed teens, who smiled back. Then Cody stopped walking, and he stopped smiling. "Sierra...you're here..."

"I know! Isn't this great, Codykins?!" Sierra exclaimed.

"Please don't call me that," Cody sighed to himself.

Gwen looked around. "I wish I had more of my friends here," she sighed, referring to her fellow goth girls, "but at least I have some," she added in Leshawna's direction.

"You got that right, sister!" Leshawna said happily. A girl who looked somewhat like her, Leshawna's older cousin Leshaniqua, nodded in agreement.

Noah briefly looked up from The Great Gatsby. "Sure are a lot of people," he said, then he went back to his book.

"WHEE!" Izzy squealed happily as she flew through the air, having jumped off the balcony in the auditorium. She landed on Eva's head.

"DAAAAAH GET IT OFF!" Eva shrieked.

A short-haired girl in a gray hoodie scoffed. "And I thought you were tougher than that," Jo chided. Eva growled at her.

"Fight, fight, fight, fight," Izzy chanted from Eva's head.

"CAN IT, IZZY!" both of the brawny girls roared, scaring Izzy away.

"It's my seat! I was here first!" an Italian boy with messy hair snapped at a pudgy, lighter-skinned boy, who had beaten him to the last open seat in the front row.

"No, I had dibs!"

"You just got here!"

"I dibbed it last year!"

"BOYS! Settle down!" an Indian girl wearing glasses snapped at them. Next to her, a taller white girl, also wearing glasses, shook her head in disapproval.

Chet and Lorenzo gulped. "Yes Mary and Ellody...sorry Mary and Ellody."

Mary grabbed Lorenzo's arm and dragged her boyfriend away. Ellody shook her head at Chet and sat down behind him.

"So much tension," Dawn noted sadly. "Chet and Lorenzo's auras are not in proper alignment. I can only hope they can fix their issues soon."

"And I can only hope you shut up and stop yakking about that aura nonsense!" a red-haired boy growled at her.

Dawn turned away from Scott. No one noticed, but she shed a single tear.

"Is there going to be cake?" Owen asked Tyler.

"I dunno. Aw man, now all I can think about is cake."

Owen giggled. "I know, right?"

Emma sat behind a tall Australian aboriginal girl. "Um, excuse me? I can't see."

Jasmine T. turned around. "Oh, sorry. Didn't see you. I'll crouch down for you." She did.

"Everybody! Stop talking, please! And put away yo' e-lec-tronic devices, they'll distract from the performance!" the voice from earlier bellowed. The room grew quiet.

"...and that's when the wolf was all like, grawsnargleblah-" It was then that the blonde rocker noticed everyone was staring at him. "What?"

"Rock," Noah said, putting his book down. "Today's supplier of the obligatory stupid-statement-when-everyone-stops-talking."

Silence.

Then everybody laughed, save a very heavily goth couple, although they did allow small smiles. Even the voice chuckled, before someone behind him elbowed him. "Ow! Okay, okay." He cleared his throat. "Please hold all applause until the end."

A band came out. After setting themselves up, they began to play.

Tell Mom and Dad you're doing fine

That those two are on your mind

You told me what you wanted to be

And I think it's very plain to see

You're gonna be famous

*Instrumental*

You want to live close to the sun

Well, pack your bags cause we've just begun

Everything to prove, nothing in your way

You'll get there today

'Cuz you're gonna be famous

"Wait a minute," Noah said. "I know this song."

Na na nana na na nana nana na na na na na naaaaah

You're gonna be, You're gonna be, You're gonna be famous

You're gonna be, You're gonna be, You're gonna be famous.

*Whistling*

Then there was a dramatic crash, and a middle-aged man with greasy black hair, stubble, and black beady eyes slid onto the stage on his knees. "Epic, right?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

The crowd erupted into cheers. Chef came from behind the stage. "You got them hooked. Now explain to them what the frick this is," Chef reminded him.

"Good call, Chef ol' pal." The man got up and cleared his throat. "Greetings everyone! Does anyone know who I am?"

"You're Chris McLean!" Sierra squealed. "Only the best reality TV host of the 2000s ever! I'm your biggest fan."

"No way!" said a boy who looked like a younger version of Don. "I'm his biggest fan! And rightfully so, my dad used to write for him!"

Chris' eye twitched. "Yeah...let me tell you something about writers. They kinda ruined my career. One of my hit TV shows, Fear Tractor, suffered a sharp decline in writing quality come the 9th season. The network cancelled it after five episodes and then ditched me." He sighed. "And that's when I vowed: never again. The writers held back my genius."

"So what are you gonna do?" Duncan asked skeptically.

"No, what you're gonna do," Chris corrected. "I've devised a completely writer-free show. That's right, the actions of the cast will be determined by the cast themselves. And you get to be the cast."

"Genius!" the fanboy, Topher, exclaimed.

"Thanks! The Drama Network thought so too and picked it up. Now, we're going to go to Wawanakwa Island, Lake Huron and have ourselves some fun! Any questions?"

"Why us?" Courtney asked.

"One, because your age group makes for better ratings, since you're still trying to figure out your identities and junk. Two, my wife is the principal of this school, so finding eighty-four contestants was a cinch." Chris smiled. "Hi honey!"

"Hey babes!" Blaineley said as she walked onstage. She and Chris began to make out.

"Aww," Sierra cooed.

"Oh my gag, ew! Old people love!" Amy cringed.

"For once I agree," Sammy muttered to herself.

The adults stopped, and Chris resumed his speech. "Joining me is my good pal and former finance manager, Chef Hatchet. War vet and the camp's cook. You'll be getting his food on a regular basis."

"Hope ya like slop," Chef grunted.

"Also, what about our schoolwork?" Emma asked.

"She's got a good point, what about our work?" Beth added.

"There will be two days between challenges to get that done," Chris explained. "It's complicated. So what do you kids say? Are you in? Ready to win...one million dollars?"

"Sha-bam! The Lightning is all about winnin' a million!" a muscular football player said from the audience.

"IF SHA-DORK-FACE WANTS THE MILLION, SO DO WE!" roared most of the rest of the kids.

Chris paused to fix his hair, while the musicians recovered from being knocked over by the force of the voices. "Okay! We're doing this! Go home, pack your stuff, and be sure to bring sneakers, we're going to be running all over that island. Be at Wawanakwa Island next Sunday and be ready to compete in

"Total.

"Drama!"

"Wait, wasn't Wawanakwa the site of a nuclear waste dump?" Bridgette realized.