Bad Girls, Bad Girls, Whatcha Gonna Do? by Cynthia Voigt

grades, or celebrate them, or bemoan them, Casey was already there and Cassie was approaching, with Tim, Felix and Jace close behind.
    Margalo looked up from her bologna sandwich and opened her mouth to say something, but Mikey didn’t give her a chance. “She gave me an A minus in Spanish.” To Margalo’s inquiring expression, There’s something wrong with an A minus? Mikey said, “I shouldn’t get over a B. You know I haven’t gotten anything better than a B on any of the tests.”
    â€œDoes she give a lot of credit for homework? Or weight class discussion grades?” Margalo suggested.
    Mikey shook her head. “It’s a bad A, Margalo.”
    What Margalo thought about the concept of a bad A (could there be good Ds?) Mikey never found out because Cassie had news to tell, news so important that she didn’t even sit down before she announced it. “Did you hear about Hadrian?”
    â€œWhere is he anyway?” Mikey asked. “He wasn’t in Math and he’s never absent. Was he in English?”
    â€œWhat’s happened?” Margalo asked, shaking her head, No, to answer Mikey’s second question.
    Tim slammed his tray down on the table, announcing, “It’s just not right.” But Cassie wanted to be the one to tell them, it being something that revealed once again what rotters human beings could be, so she told the story.
    â€œThose guys—I don’t even want to know their names—Eenie, Meenie and Minie—Larry, Curly and Moe—Tom, Dick and Harry—”
    â€œMean, Stupid and Immature,” Casey suggested. She had looked up from Crime and Punishment and her lunch; she had even closed the book, although she kept a finger in it to mark her place. “I heard about it.”
    â€œThe juniors,” Margalo guessed. She did know their names, but that wasn’t the point. “What did they do to him now?”
    Cassie said, “The story is they broke his arm.”
    â€œThey what?”
    â€œThat’s not what I heard.”
    â€œI thought it was his leg.”
    â€œI heard his wrist.”
    Cassie raised her voice to drown them out. “Whichever limb it was, there was an ambulance.”
    This caused a silence.
    Margalo broke it. “Is he all right?”
    â€œWell, he walked to the ambulance.”
    â€œSome girls found him in the hallway,” Tim reported. “It was a couple of seniors.”
    â€œBut why didn’t someone stop them?” Mikey asked.
    â€œThere’s never anyone around. That’s their MO,” Felix explained.
    Cassie continued. “Mr. Robredo had them in his office for two hours—before he suspended them.”
    â€œHad them in his office all three? Or one at a time?” Mikey wanted to know. She had not personally met up with the legendary Mr. Robredo, but she had heard about him. Even Louis Caselli didn’t want to mix it up with Mr. Robredo, even Louis Caselli on his most foolhardy, suicidal, delusional days.
    The worrisome thing about Mr. Robredo was that he was absolutely serious about his job, and absolutely straight. He wouldn’t cut you any slack, even if he thought you were funny, even if your parents knew him socially. He wouldn’t cut anybody any slack, he didn’t take any lip off anybody, he was happy to consider expelling people, and he did what he said he’d do. Nobody wanted to be taken in to see Mr. Robredo. With somebody that fair, you couldn’t be sure how it would turn out for you.
    Cassie reported, “One at a time. Then the police came. Casey, ask your father what happened.”
    â€œNo,” Casey said.
    â€œDon’t be such a priss. I didn’t mean go ask him now. Weall know that at school you pretend not to be related. I mean, this weekend. I mean, tell us Monday.”
    â€œI don’t believe this,” Mikey announced, although she did.

    On Monday, however, there was no need