Quarantine #2: The Saints by Lex Thomas Page B

always sat when Sam still ran Varsity. But now Terry, the new leader of Varsity, sat by her side. She looked out at the gym, and it looked different. The mountain of food that had always cascaded down the bleachers on the other side of the room was now a neat stack of supplies that needed to be moderately rationed. With Terry in charge, the combat training areas of the gym floor had been scaled back and replaced with a lounge, and a small library of books on loan from the Nerds. The Varsity boys still played their games, there was a lively game of half court basketball across the gym from Hilary, and their sneakers squeaked like a family of chipmunks.
    “Hilary, I know how much the Pretty Ones mean to my guys,” Terry said. “We’re all on the same team. I don’t want to change anything about that.”
    “How come I don’t believe you?” she said.
    Terry shrugged. Hilary’s tongue flicked over the back of her right cuspid. The superglue that held it in place was bitter. She had to stop messing with it or she risked popping it out of place. It had become a bad habit when she got anxious.
    “This morning, Anthony told me that I wasn’t allowed to take my regular morning swim anymore,” Hilary said. “He said I needed to talk to you. And just now, I was told by three of your guys that I needed to pack up my things because my room is now a ‘date’ room, whatever that is.”
    “We have so many couples, it always seemed unfair to me that none of them got a chance to spend any time alone together,” Terry said. “Now there’ll be a schedule posted and anybody will be able to sign up and have it as a place to do dinner and a movie or something.”
    “Yes, but it’s my room,” Hilary said. “It’s always been my room.”
    “It’s been your room since Sam was in charge,” he said, his voice staying cool. “Now that he’s not in play, there’s no reason why you should have anything more than any other Pretty One. There’s plenty of cots open in the girls’ locker room.”
    Hilary flicked her tongue across her tooth.
    “Cots,” she said.
    “I’m going to need you to be a team player, all right?”
    Hilary’s mind was racing for an angle, but she had nothing.
    “I really hate that you’re gay,” she finally said.
    Terry chuckled. “I know you do.”
    Terry slapped her on the knee and walked down the bleachers.
    When she’d told Terry that the Pretty Ones would back his move to take over, her plan had been to seduce him. She had no idea he would come out of the closet days later, and even less of a clue that Varsity wouldn’t care one bit. It was more than they didn’t care. They seemed to like him more. It was as if they wanted the polar opposite of Sam, and Terry fit that perfectly. He wanted to transform Varsity’s image, to undo all the damage he said Sam had done. He said they didn’t need to be hated and feared anymore. That was all Sam. Everything bad about Varsity was Sam’s fault, not theirs. Now was their chance for a fresh start, to make friends with other gangs instead of enemies.
    Terry just wanted a date and he couldn’t get one in Varsity. She was sure that was what it was. Make friends? She’d never heard one person shovel so much shit in her life.
    Hilary didn’t want to make friends. She wanted her life back. She wanted private swims in the pool. She wanted her closets back. She wanted the same huge assortment of food she always had to choose from. Terry didn’t even want Hilary to shave anyone’s head for wig hair anymore. She hated Sam for knocking out her tooth, but sometimes she missed the crazy psycho. At least with him, she got to shower alone.
    Now, not only did she have zero chance of getting Terry under her thumb, he didn’t even seem concerned with keeping Varsity and the Pretty Ones number one. Hilary couldn’t understand that kind of thinking. It wasn’t how she’d been raised.
    Her mother had been a model in the eighties, and she’d reached a certain