I couldn’t wait to put the pads on. But first we had business with Webb. Yesterday Mike said to me, “Do you believe we been in school this long and didn’t do anything to him yet?” I nodded. “It’s unbelievable.” “It’s a disgrace.” “We gotta do something.” “Before he starts thinking he’s safe.” “Tomorrow.” All last year we tormented Webb. Mostly little stuff, like messing with his locker or his clothes or his books. Like something would be missing, then mysteriously show up the next day or week. Or he would wonder why everybody was pinching him till he discovered the PINCH ME sign on the back of his shirt. He’s so dumb. He never figures out who’s doing it. He never gets mad at us. In fact he never gets mad at anybody. Day after day, his chippy chirpy perky self. What a moron. So we thought about it yesterday and did it today. In last period, geography. Mike brought the mustard in one of those squeeze dispensers. He slipped it to me before class. I had the seat behind Webb.
