Free Beckoners by Carrie Mac

guessed, unless you are in fact cretins, that the winner is a member of this very class. Beck, eyes to the front. You and Lindsay can plot your overthrow of the government later, I’m sure.”
    â€œJust tell us who it is,” Beck said. “No one cares anyway.”
    â€œWell, Beck—” Mrs. Henley was interrupted by a knock at the door. In walked a wiry guy with rock star yellow-tinted glasses, black hair with blue tips hanging in his face, cuffs of his black jeans folded up, a dark gray work shirt undone over a black Ramones T-shirt, a stack of the school paper under one arm and a vintage
Dick Tracy
lunchbox in the other hand.
    â€œAs I was about to say, Beck, I can think of at least one other person who cares besides myself.” Mrs. Henley waved him in. “Our esteemed editor himself, Leaf Morrison.”
    In that instant, Zoe became fairly sure she was not a lesbian.
    â€œHey.” Leaf nodded at the class.
    His voice was deep, midnight radio announcer smooth. Zoe hadn’t thought that teenaged boys could sound that cool.
    Mrs. Henley beamed at him. “For those of you who don’t know, Leaf is in his last year here at Central and has been the editor for the past two years. Leaf, the honor is yours. Don’t keep us in suspense, child.”
    â€œThis lunchbox is filled with everything an assistant editor needs to do the job.” Leaf set the lunchbox on Mrs. Henley’s desk. “It’s been passed down from assistant editor to assistant editor since 1958. It’s got your standard pens, pencils, notebooks, instant coffee and cigarettes.” The class laughed. “There are some modern conveniences as well, a mini disc recorder and a photocopier key. This year it goes to—” he checked the name, “—April Donelly for her essay about teenage mothers at Central, running front page in this issue, hot off the press.” He thumped the stack of papers. “Congratulations, April. April?”
    The class was silent.
    â€œWhich one’s April?”
    â€œThis is a joke, right?” Beck laughed. “You’re not serious.”
    Leaf turned to Mrs. Henley. “Is she here, Mrs. H?”
    â€œApril!” Mrs. Henley waved the paper at Dog. “You won! Stand up, say a few words, child. Congratulations!”
    â€œUm.” Dog pushed herself up in her seat just a bit. “Um, thanks.”
    Leaf’s expression changed from curious anticipation to sinking dread and back in less than five seconds. A very quick recovery. “Hi. April. Donelly. Right.”
    â€œLook at him, he had no idea it was Dog!” Beck laughed again.
    â€œBeck, I’ve asked you before not to—”
    â€œYou absolutely have to pick someone else, Henley. She’s not mentally fit for the job. Aren’t I right, Lindsay?”
    â€œA complete nutcase.”
    â€œJazz? Back me up here.”
    â€œBig mistake, Mrs. H.”
    â€œEnough! If you’d bothered to notice, the winner was selected by blind judging. I trust you all at least know what that means?” There was a definite edge to Mrs. Henley’s voice. “So, it has already been proven that she has the skill. If you have such a vested interest, I suggest you enter the contest next year. April? Are you all right?”
    Dog stared at her desktop. She’d watched Leaf’s penny drop, followed immediately by his quick scramble to pick it up. The whole class had seen it.
    â€œShe’s always like that,” Beck said.
    â€œZombie,” Lindsay said. “Completely brain dead. She should be institutionalized. It’s very sad.”
    â€œThe two of you, that is more than enough! April, why don’t you take this opportunity to check out the Dungeon with Leaf? I believe there’s a desk there with your name on it. Leaf?”
    â€œYeah. Right. There is.” Leaf studied Dog as she got her books together, his brow furrowing. Dog scurried