Get Even Read Free Page B

swept his arm across the gym in a grand arc. “The entire school is waiting on you to start this assembly. Would you like to tell us why you’re having difficulty finding someplace to sit?”
    “I . . .” Theo glanced down at the bench. There was a tiny sliver of space left at the end, maybe enough room for a fourth grader to squeeze half his skinny butt onto, and Theo was neither skinny nor a fourth grader. Margot cringed, waiting for the inevitable barrage of abuse from Coach Creed, but unlike yesterday, Theo was spared the humiliation. A freshman girl at the end of the bench stood up and slid into the row behind, leaving enough room for Theo to sit.
    “Saved by a girl,” Coach Creed said with a laugh. “How sad.”
    Logan leaned forward, his lips close to Margot’s ear. “Is he always such an asshole?”
    “Coach Creed?”
    “Yeah. That guy deserves a public flogging.”
    Margot glanced at Logan, then fixed her eyes on Father Uberti as he approached the microphone. She squeezed the remote control more tightly.
    “Yes,” she said softly. “Yes, he does.”

THREE
    BREE WATCHED FATHER UBERTI PULL THE BLACK LEATHER tassels of his cincture through his hand, letting them slap against his left leg. “Everyone find a seat.”
    The gym quieted instantly. No one whispered, no one laughed. Even John was completely silent; his eyes, like everyone else’s, were fixed on the microphone.
    “Thank you,” Father Uberti said, without an ounce of sincerity. He cleared his throat with unusual violence, as if to punish his vocal cords for insubordination. “I’ve called this assembly today to address a threat that has weaseled its way into the very soul of our school.”
    He paused and placed his hand over the cross that hung around his neck as if to convey the special hurt that had been inflicted upon him. Bree fought the urge to puke in her lap.
    “We want to begin this school year on the right foot—free from the constant menace of the anonymous student or group of students known as DGM.”
    Silence. Bree had expected an outbreak of stunned murmurs, but apparently the subject of the assembly was about as unforeseen as Liberace coming out of the closet.
    “In order to shut DGM down,” Father Uberti continued, “we need your help. Your information. We have with us today Sergeant Callahan from the Menlo Park Police Department to discuss the illegal”—he paused again, for special emphasis—“I repeat, the illegal actions of this group.”
    Bree covered her mouth with her hand to hide her smile as Sergeant Callahan stepped to the microphone. She loved the element of danger in each DGM mission, so much so that she usually volunteered for the jobs that might get her in trouble, such as breaking into the school gym over the weekend to install an unsanctioned video playback device in the AV room. In some ways, she almost wished she would get caught. Expulsion from Bishop DuMaine would be a surefire way to piss off her dad. And even if he did follow through on his oft-repeated threat to send her to a convent school back east, it would totally be worth it to see his disapproving face turn purple with impotent rage.
    “Good morning.” Sergeant Callahan’s tone was crisp and efficient. “At the request of Father Uberti, Menlo PD has implemented a hotline for anonymous tips on DGM. We ask that you keep your eyes and ears open. Any clue, no matter how insignificant it seems, could lead to possible suspects.”
    John rested his chin on Bree’s shoulder. “Sounds like a witch hunt,” he whispered.
    Yeah, and I’m the witch.
    “Thank you, Sergeant Callahan.” Father Uberti shook his hand, then addressed the student body once more. “We hope these steps will lead to the apprehension of the perpetrators whose mean-spirited attacks on our students have plagued Bishop DuMaine for the past three semesters.”
    Mean-spirited? Bree closed her eyes to keep from rolling them. Father Uberti could not give less of a crap