Don't Care High by Gordon Korman Page B

unlawful possession of two lockers in the 800A’s. Feldstein served them with fair warning, and they had responded by stealing and hiding the locker baron’s chair.
    In a rage, Feldstein extended his influence to the maximum, calling for hostility and inconvenience to rain down on the heads of the two transgressors. They were no longer allowed in the cafeteria, and all drinking fountains were closed to them. They were late for all classes, as access to their ill-gotten lockers was barred around the clock. And they were shunned like lepers by virtually all of the twenty-six hundred students.
    Throughout this, Feldstein stood in his stairwell, arms crossed with grim determination.
    When Sheldon and Paul went to see Feldstein on Monday, his chair had rematerialized, and the two transgressors stood before him, shamefaced and repentant.
    â€œWe were wrong, and we apologize,” said the one on the right.
    â€œWe’ll give you back the lockers,” said his partner, “and we’re willing to make it up to you.”
    â€œWe’ll do anything,” added the first boy.
    Feldstein’s expression was solemn. He paused as the boy’s words echoed in the upper stairwell, then reached into his pocket, produced a piece of paper and began to unfold it.
    â€œI have here a list of the Chinese food that I need right now. Make sure you get everything exactly the way it’s written down. And I want you to know that, as far as I’m concerned, absolutely nothing happened between us.”
    â€œGee, thanks, Feldstein! We’ll get it right away!” The two boys sprinted out of the building.
    Sheldon and Paul approached the locker baron.
    â€œHi, Feldstein,” said Sheldon. I see you’ve done it again. Congratulations.”
    Feldstein nodded sadly. “Business is business, but this —” he gestured in the direction in which the two freshmen had departed “— is just a couple of kids who don’t know what they’re getting into. The locker game sure has changed. Two years ago, the great insurrections of Slim Kroy and The Combo. The year before that, I was the young upstart, forcing Fitzpatrick completely out of the A’s and establishing my first stronghold. Those were the days.” He sighed. “You’ve got to do a lot of dirty things in this business. So what can I do for you today, man?”
    â€œWe need two lockers as close to the print shop as possible.”
    Feldstein brightened. “No sooner said than done. 468 and 469D, right across. Why don’t you take 470, too? On me.”
    â€œYou’re a prince, Feldstein,” said Sheldon, pleased.
    â€œYeah, thanks, Feldstein,” added Paul.
    â€œDon’t mention it, man.”
    * * *
    Photography class continued to have its problems. Mr. Willis, who now had no office and no print dryer, continued valiantly to teach and refused to give up precious darkroom time. Replacing the dryer was an electric fan he had unabashedly swiped from Mr. Gamble’s office. He urged all students to bring electric hair dryers to class, but only he and Paul had remembered to do so. This inadequate resource was cut in half when Mr. Willis’ dryer was recalled by the manufacturer.
    That Wednesday, Paul was confronted with the problem of a portrait shot of Mike Otis. This, Sheldon was telling him, was holding up the first edition of
The Otis Report
, which was otherwise ready to go to press.
    As the class waited for Mr. Willis to arrive, Paul made an elaborate show of announcing that his camera was broken. Putting his eye to the viewer, he wheeled around, saying, “See what you can make of this.” Aiming the camera directly at Mike, he snapped a picture. “Hey, what do you know — it’s fixed. Thanks, Mike.”
    â€œYou’re welcome.”
    He waited until school was over to develop the picture. He and Sheldon stood over the developing tray, watching with