by Holly Black
Long live the Queen.
The Naughty List
Christine Morgan
They got sent in after supper, the other kids.
The other bad kids.
Sent to the basement.
No party for them.
No Christmas party, with crafts and games, songs, cocoa, cookies, and a visit from Santa with presents.
Not for them. Not the bad kids, the kids on the naughty list.
Parties were a privilege. A special reward.
They hadn’t earned it. They didn’t have enough points.
Minda sat in the corner and watched them come in.
She never got points.
Like Derp. Derp never got points either, though Derp tried. He really did. He tried really hard to play nice and be helpful, turn in assignments, pass tests, keep his room clean, and all that good-kid point-getting stuff. He just couldn’t do it right.
Minda didn’t try. Minda didn’t care.
Derp meant well, that’s what her granny would say. He meant well, but he just couldn’t do it right. Derp was big and dumb, kind of clumsy, and he scared people. He didn’t mean to do that, either, but he did. Even grownups, even teachers, were scared of Derp sometimes. They wouldn’t say so, but they were. Minda knew. Minda could tell.
They thought because Derp got frustrated, because he yelled and waved his arms when he was upset, that he must have super-Derp powers. Retard strength, one of the big boys had called it. Derp would snap, and start hitting, and be strong as ten wrestlers or a wild animal.
But Derp hardly ever hit anybody except for himself. He didn’t want to be scary. It made him sad.
Being sent to the basement now made him sad too, Minda saw. He came in with his head down and his feet dragging. His froggy mouth turned down in a crumpled wet fold. He snuffled a sigh as he went to a table and plopped onto a chair. There were some crayons and colorbooks on the table. Derp opened a colorbook to a page with trains and started scribbling.
Tess, Jimmy and Spencer were next, clomp-tromping down the stairs in a noisy arguing group. They’d had extra chores for being in trouble. They usually were. Jimmy for stealing and lying, Spencer for being a dirty-messy potty-mouth, Tess for starting fires.
After them came Lamont. He was new to the school. Did he not know the many rules? Or he was too smart to care? Maybe both. Minda had heard that his mom was a doctor, the rich kind, the kind that gave ladies new noses. He earned lots of points by getting best grades on all his tests and assignments. It seemed kind of strange Lamont would be here.
He looked mad about it, too. He glared at Miz Parker like he wished she’d be crushed by a truck.
Miz Parker didn’t notice. She just sat at the desk, drinking coffee and playing on the computer. That was pretty much all she did. Solitaire, Mahjong, Minesweeper, Angry Birds. Unless somebody pitched a total fit, she’d ignore them.
Lamont moved his glare around the room like he’d never seen it before. Maybe he hadn’t. This might have been his first time to the basement, to the detention hall.
Minda idly wondered what he did. A smart kid with a rich mom, losing enough points to miss out on the Christmas party? Must have been something extra bad.
His lip curled up in a disgusted kind of sneer at the sight of the cruddy old furniture, the low bookshelves crammed with cruddy old books, the cruddy old toys. He glanced at Derp, still scribbling loops in the train colorbook. He glanced at Spencer, who was picking his nose, then at Jimmy and Tess, bickering over what to do first.
He glanced last at Minda, sitting in her corner. She kept finger-combing her long straight dark hair down over her face. She tried to avoid his gaze. Lamont sneered the other side of his lip and went to a chair by the stack of puzzles. He sulked into it with his arms crossed over his chest.
“This isn’t fair,” he said in a grumbling mutter.
“Yeah, dude.” Spencer renewed his digging for nose goblins with a corkscrew motion. “Sucks to be us.”
“I didn’t want to go to any stupid baby Christmas party anyways,” Tess said.
“But there’s treats.” Derp sighed again, a doleful-soulful sound.
“We’ll have snacks,” said Jimmy. “They have to give us snacks, they can’t starve us in here all night.”
“Snacks, right.” Tess made a rude noise. “Graham crackers and juice, same as always. Not good snacks.”
“They get good snacks at the party,” said Derp. “Hot cocoa with marshmallows. Frosted snowman cookies. Candy canes.”
They all fell silent, thinking about that. In the hush, from beyond the basement, came muffled but cheery holiday music. The party was starting. Footsteps thudded their vibrations as excited kids rushed along the halls and stairways.
Everybody had seen the preparations underway, of course. The school’s gymnasium, auditorium, dining room and courtyard being all decorated … twinkly lights and glittery garlands, wreaths, ribbons, cardboard reindeer and penguins, construction-paper snowflakes, a real Christmas tree covered in ornaments, a big red chair where Santa would sit to give out presents …
“And we’re stuck here.” Lamont blew out his breath with what was almost a snort.
Miz Parker didn’t notice.
“Why’re you here anyway?” Tess asked the question that had been on Minda’s mind.
Lamont scowled and re-crossed his arms.
“I know why.” Jimmy flashed a sly grin. “He cut Mikey Nelson.”
“No shit?” Spencer perked up. “That was you? Dude!”
“He had to get like ten stitches,” Jimmy added.
“What’d you cut him with?” Spencer regarded Lamont with interest as if watching a documentary on television about dangerous wildlife. “A switchblade? A boxcutter?”
“Should’ve shot him,” Tess said. “Mikey Nelson is a turd.”
“A scalpel,” said Jimmy when Lamont didn’t seem to want to answer.
Derp’s forehead creased. “A what?”
“A doctor knife, doofus. You know. Like on the shows. Nurse! Scalpel! Forkseps!”
“Forceps,” Lamont said.
“Forksex,” snickered Spencer.
“Should’ve shot him,” Tess said again. She made a gun-hand and mimed aiming a headshot at Miz Parker, whose oblivious attention remained fixed on the computer. “Pow.”
“She always wants to shoot people,” Jimmy told Lamont.
“Or set them on fire,” Spencer said. “She’s a firebug.”
“I am not. You’re a litterbug and a bug-killer. But I’m not a firebug.”
“You set shit on fire.”
“That’s not why. Jeez. I don’t like fires, I like explosions.” She clenched her fists in front of her face and sprang them open. “Ka-boom.”
“You’re Lamont, right? I’m Jimmy. That’s Tess. He’s Spencer.”
“I’m Derp. My real name’s Walter but everybody calls me Derp.”
Lamont glanced at Minda again, or at the curtain of hair concealing her face. He lowered his voice. “Who’s she?”
“That’s Minda.” Jimmy paused, his freckled face twisting in thought. “She’s … uh … ”
“Weird,” said Tess.
“Effin’-A,” Spencer said, not without a note of approval. “Minda’s one weird-ass chica.”
Tess nodded. “Even since before her brother died.”
Lamont took yet another look. Before he could decide whether or not to say anything else, the detention hall door opened to admit a shrill, complaining whine.
“You can’t do this, I’m telling, I’m gonna tell! My mommy’s gonna be sooooooo mad at you!”
Miz Parker leaned over from the computer, saw who it was, and pinched the bridge of her nose like she had a sudden ice cream headache.
“You can’t dooooo this! I’m the Christmas princess!”
“That’s enough, Jolene,” said Mr. Gregson, the vice principal. “You had plenty of chances and plenty of warning.”
He marched in Jolene Sincl
air, all sprayed blond curls, chubby pink cheeks, and eyeshadow. Her poofy green satin holiday dress trimmed in shiny gold lace, gold tights, and green velvet shoes with golden buckles reeked of holiday cheer. Wedged under one arm was a stuffed rabbit almost as big as she was, a fluffy white rabbit wearing a curly blond wig and a green satin dress identical to Jolene’s.
“Now you stay here and behave—”
“But I’ll miss the paaaaaaarty!”
“Yes.” There might have been a grim glint of satisfaction in Mr. Gregson’s hint of a smile. “You should have thought of that before you pushed Kayla off the stage.”
“She was in my spot! She’s a bratty-bratty-bratty-brat and she was in my spot!”
The vice principal turned away from her to have an annoyed-sounding conversation with Miz Parker, leaving Jolene to huff in indignation.
The rest of them watched as she flounced her way to the middle of the room and stood there, pouting.
“What are you staring at?” she demanded.
Nobody said anything.
Then Derp spoke up. “That’s a really pretty dress.”
At once, the pout became a dazzling toothpaste-commercial smile. “Thank you.” She skipped to his table. “I’m Jolene and this is Bunny-Hoo-Hoo.”
“Bunny what?” asked Jimmy, eyebrows raised.
“Bunny-Hoo-Hoo,” repeated Jolene. She had a giggle that sounded like metal screeching on glass. “Because she’s a bunny, and … ” She flipped the rabbit over so that its dress fell up around its head. “ … here’s her hoo-hoo.”
Underneath the skirt were no tights or panties, just furry bunny butt and a puff of white tail, and the kids all laughed like maniacs.
All but Minda, of course, who stayed where she was, quiet in her corner, running her fingers through her hair.
Mr. Gregson’s phone beeped. He unclipped it from his belt to check the text.
“Of course, to top it all off, the damn Santa’s not only late but lost,” he told Miz Parker. “I need to talk him through the directions—”
“Oh, great,” Her voice was distracted. Miz Parker must not care for any holiday.
“—then figure out what’s going on with the choir microphones … ” He pressed his temples. “Just make sure this bunch stays out of trouble.”
“Sure,” she said as her attention returned to the monitor.
He dialed and left with the phone to his ear.
“Did you hear that?” said Derp. “Santa’s lost.”
“So?” Spencer, having worked a fat yellow booger from his nose, squish-wiped it under his chair.
“So, Santa!”
“Not like we were gonna get presents anyways,” Tess said.
“I am,” proclaimed Jolene. “Lots of presents. The best presents. For me and for Bunny-Hoo-Hoo.”
“Are not,” Jimmy said.
“Am so!”
“Are not, not now. You’re stuck here with us, now.”
“You get squat,” Spencer said. “Jack-shit-diddly-squat.”
Her lipsticked mouth made a wounded O-shape. “But … ”
“They’re right,” Lamont said.
“But that’s not fair.”
“Tell me about it.”
Spencer shrugged and started picking pieces of rubber from the tattered soles of his sneakers. “We’re screwed. Effed in the A. Or in the hoo-hoo.”
“While everybody else gets Christmas.” Derp drew a sad face in the coloring book.
“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Jolene fussed with her rabbit’s wig.
“Did you really push Kayla off the stage?” asked Tess.
“She was in my spot. She’s a show-offy bratty-brat and she thinks she’s prettier than me.”
“And she gets Christmas and you don’t,” said Derp.
“The good kids do,” Lamont said. “The mama’s boys and daddy’s girls.”
“The goodie-goodies.” Tess made a face. “The teachers’ pets.”
“The kissbutts,” said Spencer.
“The tattle-tales,” Jimmy chimed in.
Another grumpy silence fell as they pondered the ginormous cruel injustice of it all. Outside, the music was the Rudolph song, bright and bouncy. There were laughs and shouts. Vague whiffs of yummy smells—popcorn, gingerbread, cocoa—wafted on the air.
Lamont looked around at the rest of them again. “We should do something.”
“Color?” suggested Derp. “Or puzzles, there’s puzzles—”
Spencer flicked a speck of shoe-rubber at him. “No, derp-for-brains.”
“He means do something about being stuck here,” said Tess.
“While they have fun at the party,” Jolene added.
“Do something like what?” Jimmy asked.
“Bust out?” Tess did gun-hands again. “Never take us alive, coppers?”
“Jailbreak!” crowed Spencer.
Jolene smacked him. “Shut up. Gawd. Tell the world.”
Miz Parker, without looking over, raised her voice in a bored not-listening way. “Quiet, keep it down.”
“She’s not gonna let us go,” said Jimmy. “And even if she did, then what?”
“Then we go to the party, duh,” Jolene said.
“We’d get in trouble,” Derp said. “They’d put us in detention.”
“We already are,”
“Oh yeah.”
“What else could they do?” Lamont spread his hands. “And at least we’d be able to grab some cookies before they threw us back in here.”
“Let’s do it.” Tess hopped up from her seat.
“What about her?” Jolene pointed at Miz Parker.
“I got an idea.” Jimmy wore his sly grin again. With his freckles and his red hair, it made him look like a crazy wooden clown doll. He beckoned, and the others leaned close to hear him whisper.
Minda, from her corner, didn’t move. Her ears were good but not that good, good enough to only catch snippets of what they said.
“ … know how she always … ”
“ … yeah in the janitor’s closet … ”
“ … thinks nobody will … ”
“ … won’t she … ”
“ … how do we get … ”
“ … take care of that, trust me … ”
“ … let her out, right?”
“ … worry about it later … ”
“ … I dunno, guys … ”
“ … want cookies, don’t you?”
“ … well yeah … ”
“ … everyone agreed?”
“ … what about … ?”
Minda felt six pairs of eyes focus on her then. She ducked her head, hunched her shoulders, and hid behind her hair.
“She’s okay,” Tess said.
“She wants cookies too,” said Derp.
“She’s with us,” Jimmy said to Lamont.
“Can she even talk?” asked Jolene. “Can you even talk?”
“She can talk,” said Tess. “She just … uh … ”
“Doesn’t,” Jimmy finished. “But she’s cool. Right, Minda?”
Minda did a quick nod, still averting her gaze.
“So, we just wait until … ?” Lamont sort of jerked his chin at Miz Parker.
“Yeah. Act regular.”
Jimmy’s advice was easier said than done; they tried not only to act regular but act innocent, sitting quietly, coloring, doing puzzles. Miz Parker swept them a few suspicious, uneasy looks. Then she went back to ignoring them in favor of Angry Birds or whatever.
Eventually, more or less on schedule, Miz Parker pushed back from the desk. She made a show of cricking her neck side to side. “I’m going to stretch my legs,” she said. “I’ll be back in a minute, so no nonsense.”
What she really meant, the kids knew, was, sneak into the janitor’s closet for a cigarette, though the whole school was supposed to be no-smoking. “A Proudly Smoke-Free Zone” the signs said.
Miz Parker stepped out into the corridor. Her shoes clacked on the cem
ent floor. Jimmy, fast like a fox, darted to catch the door before it latched shut. He held it open just a crack, enough for them to peep through.
Light bulbs in wire ceiling cages cast Miz Parker shadows on the painted-cinderblock walls. The janitor’s closet was at the far end, past the stairs, the bathrooms, and the ancient drinking fountain with its eternal cold drip.
Jolene tried to elbow her way between Spencer and Lamont for a better view, or to make sure Bunny-Hoo-Hoo could also see. Derp started to say something, too loud, and Tess elbowed him.
Jimmy gave Miz Parker enough time to get settled and light up. Then, still fox-fast, and quiet as a ninja, he zipped down there, pulled a key from his jeans-pocket, and locked her in. Then he spun and did a big beaming “ta-da!” gesture.
“Hello?” came Miz Parker’s startled but muffled voice.
She tried the door, but Jimmy had left the key half-turned and half-stuck from the lock so she couldn’t open it from her side.
“Hey! Hello? Is someone out there? Hey!”
Rattle-rattle-rattle. Knock. Thump thump.
It stayed shut. The other kids crept into the hall, tentative and amazed, like mice surprised at being let out of their cage. Freedom, but wariness, because what if it was a trick, a trap? What if the cat was ready to pounce?
Minda trailed after them.
“Hey! Open this door! Did you little shits lock me in?”
“She said shits,” said Derp, eyes agog.
“Potty-mouth! That’s detention for you!” Spencer whooped at the door. He high-fived Jimmy. “You da man, you slick effin’ bastard!”
The rattles, knocks and thumps, joined by some hammering bangs, resumed loud and angry, but the door continued staying shut.
“Oh, you’re going to be in so much trouble!” called out Miz Parker.
“Wow, it worked,” Lamont said. “Awesome!”
“Bunny-Hoo-Hoo wants to know what if someone hears her?” Jolene danced the rabbit back and forth.
“Nobody will,” Jimmy said. “Not for a while, not with the party and the music and the choir and everything.”
“Where’d you get a key?” Lamont asked.
