So, I've had a lot to deal with. But here!

"He did what?" Amos asked me at lunch.

The second day of school had passed without much incident. Amos had managed to behave himself in history class this time, narrowly avoiding a demerit. But he'd nearly gotten attacked by Johnny Stimp, the big football guy that I'd vowed to stay away from the first day. Imira told him to step off – not very politely, I'm afraid – and the guy would have punched her if not for the hall monitor threatening to report him to the principal.

I'd told the others about yesterday, me taking Vinny Lee over to my house and Sonic showing up uninvited. I hadn't yet mentioned my mom was on the school board, or the incident with my Forcecuff. Now that I thought about the former, I had to wonder how many students and parents were involved. Did Mrs. Hardcastle have a kid in this school? If so, I hadn't met them yet, and I felt quite sorry for them.

"I guess he wanted to break it himself," Imira responded. "Seriously, DJ, you never told your family?"

"Girl, you saw where that got yours," Amos clapped back. "Stalked by a cysnake in a woman's – Ow!"

Imira had punched him. Seriously, that girl could punch. "That is a good point. But –"

"Cool it, Imira," I said. "My mom is on the board –"

Amos nearly choked on his burger. "Man. So's Mama."

"So I've heard." I explained my suspicions that it had been implemented after Covid.

"Senta," Vinny Lee said, having been quiet most of the time, letting me tell the story. "Papa complains about how little say he got with the escuela back in San Antonio. He's put in as maintenance around the building. He likes that he can trust the board."

"Okay." I didn't know what else to say to that. I knew her papa – José, the local handyman – had left his home in San Antonio on the grounds of Vinny Lee's gender dysphoria – which had both been caused by and contributed to other miseries in Miss Marzera's life. I didn't like going into the full sob story of the parents' divorce, but it had been over that, and the gender problems had originated from her being bullied in school. Not that the state of the school at the time had helped, either. I could understand why José might want a little more say in what his daughter was being taught.

Imira scowled at her own burger as if it were a monster lying in wait. "Man, how is it that Fairview shows up with these adjustments just when we're looking for them the most? Who put that idea in?"

It needled me too. It couldn't be a coincidence that they were showing up with all these new tweaks just when people were looking for them. And even before – Fairview had extended the enrollment a year before people started protesting about denial of opt-outs. Maybe the whole thing about parental involvement had been going on even before things got heated, too. Or else…

Amos shifted in his seat, almost uncomfortably. I made a mental note to interrogate him about it after lunch.

Just then a couple of girls approached our table. I hadn't seen them in any of my classes, so I figured they must have been upperclassmen. They were also twins, with the same blond hair, eyes the color of pond scum, and matching hot-pink tank tops and magenta skirts that looked like the latest attempt at Legally Blonde cosplay.

It was the bling that tipped me off, though. Being from a star family – a wealthy star family – with neighbors who were similarly rolling in cash, I knew real diamonds and corundum when I saw them. The sapphire necklaces and diamond bangles positively screamed Beverly Hills. Either the twins had robbed a jewelry store (unlikely), or they had more than enough moola to buy all that shine themselves.

I shifted my eyes away from them. I'd never liked my ultrarich neighbors back in LA, as I didn't approve of snobbery, a trait I inherited from my mom. I was pretty sure these two stuck-up girls would be no different.

Imira, however, didn't quite understand. "Get lost," she growled.

"Good afternoon to you too," the girl on the left said. She had a ruby on either side of the sapphire and was slightly taller, which was perhaps the only way I could tell her apart from her sister. She turned to me. "I'll say, what was your name? Delaney Jorgman?"

"DJ," I snapped. The fewer people remembered me as Delaney, the better. And I didn't want to give this girl the satisfaction.

"Whatever you prefer." The girl glanced at her sister, who didn't even respond back. "Why hang out here? I didn't think you hung with losers."

"Well, what are you doing here, then?"

The girl stepped back, clearly not expecting such an answer from me. "Whatever," she said to me. Then she parted with her sister, whispering something to her. I caught, "I hope Billy boy gets his head straight about the surplus."

"Gee, I wish my daddy owned the real estate corporations," said a voice next to me. "Then I'd be a snobby little brat too."

I whipped around to find a boy at my seat. The bespectacled Indigenous boy. What was his name? Breen?

"Breen Adwell," he said. "I'd stay away from those two for my sanity, if I were you."

Gee, say just what I'm thinking, I thought. Those girls reminded me of every one of my neighbors back in LA – the richer and crazier types. If I hung around them much longer, they'd tempt me to give up the degree.

"Who are they?" Amos asked Breen.

"Marnie and Mimi Camford. Daughters of the wealthiest donor to this place. I've never heard Mimi say much. Marnie's the talker."

"Gee, never would have guessed," Imira remarked.

"And you guys?" Breen pressed. "What about you, blond girl – you said you go by DJ, right?"

"That's right," I responded, trying to keep my cool. I wasn't sure how Breen had figured me out. Then again, there had been a roll call on the first day. Getting the progeny of Casey Jorgman in your class was not something you easily forgot.

"And you hang with – these fellows? The ones who talked back to the teacher?"

"Please. I'd rather not revisit that little incident. But they are my friends. The boy's name is Amos Darvosky." I made sure to pronounce it properly, no stressing the middle. I didn't figure Amos would appreciate it. "The girl in the yellow and blue is Vinny Lee Marzera."

"And you?" Breen questioned Imira.

"Imira Fadjir," she responded. "You didn't just come here to warn us about the Catty Camfords, did you?"

Breen shook his head, then asked, "You know Oscar Kawatogama?"

Kawatogama? Why did the name sound so familiar?

Breen misinterpreted my expression. "He runs the Fine Fare Supermarket around here."

"Okay, so the guy's a grocer," Amos cut in. "Don't see what that has to do with us."

"Everything," said Olga as she approached. She wore her standard blue gray blouse and jeans (maybe she had a thing against wearing skirts), and had her bobbed hair neatly combed out as usual. I could catch the crochet hook in her belt loops. Seriously, did she carry that thing everywhere? And what was it for? Because I didn't bet she did her own needlework.

"I see monsters around the place, prowling," she continued, her tone carrying sincere concern. "I worry for him. I sent Breen to tell you."

"Since when do you pick up on gossip?" Imira questioned her.

"Word on the street is, Oscar's son Billy was planning to go to St. Francis Inn with one of his classmates to give out some surplus food." Breen said this in a completely nonplussed manner, as if what went down in that neighborhood didn't affect him.

Billy? Eureka. There was only one Billy that I knew with a last name that unpronounceable – Courtney's crush.

"Which classmate was it?" I pressed, just to make sure my suspicions were right. Trust, but verify, as they say.

"Some new kid that came in from LA. Going to his school – Belmont, I think? I mentioned the last name 'Jorgman' and Olga got kinda upset, wanted to tell you."

"Kinda upset?" Vinny Lee asked.

"That's my sister you're talking about there," I responded. "Courtney. She said she was going with Billy when I asked her about it. No wonder Olga acted up. She knows us." And everything we do, I finished to myself.

"Your sister's going out with Billy?" Breen pressed.

"She's certainly interested in him. What do you want me to do about it? She's my sister. And what's St. Francis Inn?"

Excuse me if I hadn't explored every part of the city. It was my resolution, yes. I guessed that this St. Francis Inn was somewhere around Philadelphia, but that was like saying somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean. Philly was huge. And it didn't sound like a fancy hotel, either.

It was Olga who answered that question. "Shelter for homeless and displaced. Not far from Fine Fare. Breen says Billy goes there many times. A bold man."

Amos cursed in Yiddish under his breath. "There? After what you said about monsters hanging out there? With Courtney? DJ's sister? Sure, yesterday, it wouldn't be a problem, under those circumstances. But with Sonic having crashed in, the secret might as well be out. They're both at risk."

"Whoa, what?" Breen asked in shock.

I thought of some ways to murder Amos. He himself clapped a hand over his mouth, as if just realizing he'd said something he shouldn't.

"What my friend meant to say," I replied, "was that Billy's getting himself in seriously dangerous territory. Concerns about monsters aside, I mean, sneaking surplus to St. Francis Inn? Right under his daddy's nose? Best case scenario, he's going to get grounded. And he might get Courtney grounded, too. She never told our mom where she was going, specifically. She only told me."

"Got to admire his chutzpah, though," Amos said.

Make up your mind, I thought, trying not to glare at my boy.

I weighed my options. This news came out when I was in school and was unable to do anything about it. What was I supposed to do? I couldn't exactly talk Courtney out of it right before she went – if I could at all. It's not like she ever listens to me. On the other hand, we'd be heading into what might as well be a war zone with the monsters and possibly cops. A typical day for us.

I hemmed and hawed. Then remembered the timing, and the location. Not nearly enough time for me to talk Courtney out of it. But I could keep her out of danger. That's what sisters are supposed to do, right?

"Where is it?" I asked Breen.

"Not far from here. You could walk up to the place."

Well, that settled it.

"VLADJI," I announced, "we're going to St. Francis."

Well, Courtney sure could use some help. Verse for the update: Matthew 15:11. Stay tuned!