Free This Girl Is Different by J. J. Johnson

believer, indeed.”
    My cheeks burn. I glance over at Jacinda. Lips
pursed, she’s staring at Brookner, in thrall. Brookner is,
in turn, staring at me.
    “Yes, well. Time shall reveal all, hmm?” He opens
the textbook. “Now. Moving on. If you will all open to
page 110, we can read the words from Galileo himself.”
    Textbooks knock onto desks, pages flip, the room
relaxes. I stare at the drawing of Galileo Galilei on
page 111. As I suspected, Brookner knew the source
of the quote. He credited Copernicus to get me talking.
Tricky man.
    Jacinda clicks her pen, poised over her notebook.
Thank God she doesn’t think of me as a weirdo or
smart-ass or know-it-all; she clearly holds a lot of social
influence around these parts. If Rajas and Jacinda didn’t
have my back, I would’ve already been thrown to the
wolves.
    At least it’s only a few more periods until lunch. And
Rajas. Available, not-involved-with-anyone Rajas. Who
seems very glad I’m here. Unlike Ms. Gliss, who hasn’t
given me a break since the dreaded Lunchtime Mobile
Phone Incident in September. Since then she’s slapped
me with two more detentions, both for insubordination.
    Insubordination. The perfect foil for abuse of power.
A catchall for anything a teacher doesn’t like. Such as
my ankle taking too long to heal.
    “You need to join the class,” Ms. Gliss had informed
me. “Your fitness is already suffering.” She made a
point of staring at my stomach. “I have no doubt your
ankle has healed by now.”
    “It’s not ready for field hockey, but I’m happy to do
gentle yoga.” My offer degenerated into a debate about
whether students have the liberty (my word) to subvert
(her word) their teachers’ class plans.
Bam.
Detention.
    The next Gliss detention was for not having the right
kind of sneakers. I argued that students should not be
required to buy sweatshop products. She remained
unmoved. I told her there was no way I could ask
Martha to pay for overpriced sneakers. Ms. Gliss
remained stoic. So then I asked her whether Nike paid
her for endorsements.
Wham.
Detention.
    And Jacinda had defended her, urging me to bite the
bullet and buy the sneakers. I love Jacinda, but I don’t
think she gets the concept of limited means. Martha
and I have everything we want, but that’s because we
don’t want much. There’s no getting around the fact
our budget is tight.
    Another detention had nothing to do with sneakers
or faculty bathrooms. I was feeling sorry for the python
who lives in our biology classroom, so I took him out of
his habitat for a little snuggle before the bell rang. Mr.
Wysent was pretty nice about it. He seemed apologetic,
but said it was policy to assign detention to anyone
who, under any circumstances, opened a school animal
habitat. Mr. Wysent alluded to some sort of frogs-inthe-
cafeteria-jello fiasco a few years back. So, again
with the detention.
    Gym with Ms. Gliss, a smelly hay infusion bio lab with
Mr. Wysent, then the mind-bending study of physics. It’s
a long morning.
    At the appointed lunchtime rendezvous location,
Rajas is waiting for me; my heart pounds its customary
Rajas rhythm. I look around. “Where’s Jacinda?”
She always waits here in the hallway with Rajas, usually
checking her phone for e-mail from her Internet
Lover.
    “She has a Cheer Squad meeting.” He shrugs. “Some
crisis or other.”
    “Oh.” I still can’t believe Jacinda’s a cheerleader—captain, no less. At first, I thought she was kidding. But
it does explain her weird dynamic with Ms. Gliss. And all
the
Glee
references. “I wonder why didn’t she tell me?”
    “Maybe she thinks you wouldn’t approve.”
    “Why wouldn’t I approve? I’m not
that
judgmental!”
    Rajas laughs. “Oh, so you
do
approve?”
    “Um…no.” He’s right. I have a strong anti-cheerleader
bias. Well, not strong so much as colossal. From Martha,
maybe? Or all those movies about catty girls? Note to
self: there’s a lot more to Jacinda than some