Adam takes the joint from him. “Why not? She owes me. She said it herself. Plus, she knows I’m a nice guy now.”
“Girls don’t like nice guys,” Brian says. “That’s the first thing you gotta understand.”
It’s Wednesday. Adam and Brian are hanging out behind Pizza Hut, stealing a joint, hoping the manager doesn’t come out and catch them. Adam’s been coasting ever since Monday morning.
Except now, Brian’s seriously killing his high.
“Come on, though,” Adam says. “She failed the first two assignments. I’m saving her ass.”
Brian pulls out his iPhone. “What’d you say her name is?”
“Sara Bryant,” Adam tells him.
Brian brings up Sara Bryant’s Facebook page on his iPhone. “Yeah,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re screwed.”
Adam frowns at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“A girl like this?” Brian turns his screen so that Adam can see Sara Bryant’s profile picture.
Her headshot.
Professional.
Model-esque.
“A girl like that?” Brian says. “Every guy in the school wants to do her a favor. She’s like a movie star who gets all her clothes for free because she’s famous and shit. You hand her a T-shirt, you ain’t getting noticed, man. You’re busting your ass for nothing.”
Adam thinks about it.
Realizes Brian’s right.
Shit.
“So what do I do?”
“What I’ve been telling you.” Brian finishes the joint. “Show some balls.”
47.
Show some balls, huh?
Okay.
The next time Mr. Powers hands out a lab assignment, Sara Bryant doesn’t beg and plead to work with Jessie McGill.
No.
She flashes Adam that all-American smile and bats her eyelashes. “So, Pizza Man,” she says. “You want to handle this?”
Adam looks her in the eye. Takes a deep breath.
(Show some balls.)
Here it is.
“Yeah,” he says. “I’ll do the assignment.”
Sara nods like she knew it was coming. Like she’s already counting on the A. “Thank you so much,” she says. “You’re the best.”
“I’ll do it,” Adam says. He’s not finished yet. “But you’re going to pay me for it.”
What?
Sara Bryant’s smile disappears. She cocks her head. “I beg your pardon?”
Adam holds her gaze. Inside, he’s dying. Outside, though, he’s cool.
Really cool.
Ice-freaking-cold.
“Think about it,” he tells her. “You know I do good work. You don’t want to do the assignment, but you want the A, don’t you?”
“I’m not going to fucking pay you to do my homework,” Sara Bryant tells him. “Who the hell do you think I am?”
“Ten bucks a page,” Adam replies. “And a twenty-dollar bonus if I get us another A.”
Sara’s glaring at him now. No more flirty smiles. No more big, blue doe eyes, filled with the promise of fantasies brought to life, if only you’ll do Sara Bryant—
(Sara motherfucking Bryant)
—this favor.
No. She’s glaring at him now. She’s pissed. “Are you retarded?” she says. “I’d never—”
Then the bell rings. Catches Sara in mid-rant. Throws her off. She looks around, helpless. Disbelieving.
Adam stands. “Think about it.”
And he walks away.
Boom.
48.
Balls.
Adam walks from that physics classroom fully aware of three things:
a)There’s a good chance he’s just turned Sara freaking Bryant into an enemy for life.
b)Money for homework is the kind of crazy scheme that gets kids suspended.
c)What happened in that classroom is the ballsiest thing he’s ever done. One way or the other, he’s going to make a name for himself (and it ain’t gonna be Pizza Man).
Adam works harder on that assignment than he’s ever worked before.
It isn’t easy.
He’s a smart enough kid, but it’s not like Adam was a model student before he came to Nixon. He spent the bulk of his time getting high. And it’s not like the Higgs residence is a sanctuary devoted to academic rigor.
Adam’s family has a fifteen-year-old computer sitting smack in the living room. Five feet away, Steph is watching Gossip Girl reruns.
Chuck Bass is hooking up with two underage debutantes.
It’s distracting.
Still, he works hard. Busts his ass. Steph peers at him from the couch. “You never do homework,” she says. “What’s your game?”
“No game,” he tells her. “Just a little experiment.”
He slaves away on that paper. Stays up all night. Polishes it off and brings it in on the due date. Sara Bryant, for once, is there early. She watches Adam walk into the classroom—
(blue eyes fixed on him the moment he walks through the door).
“You do the assignment?” she asks him.
Adam shows her the paper. “Uh-huh.”
Sara Bryant visibly relaxes. “Good work,” she says. She smiles at him. Almost—
(but not quite)
—the all-American smile. “I knew you’d come through.”
“Best paper I ever wrote,” he tells her. He shows her the title page. Keeps it just out of her reach.
Acceleration, by Adam Higgs, it reads.
Sara frowns. “What is this? Where’s my name?”
“Figured I did all the work, I should get the credit, right?” Adam tells her. “Five pages times ten bucks a page is fifty bucks. You ready to deal?”
Sara stares at him. The smile is gone. “This is extortion,” she says, glancing at Mr. Powers’s desk. “This is bullshit. This is—”
“This is capitalism,” Adam tells her. He’s struggling to keep the shake from his voice. “You don’t want to do the work, and you know it. I can get you the grades. You can spend your time doing whatever it is that you do. It’s a win-win. Think about it.”
Sara looks around the room again. She looks:
helpless
frustrated
mad.
“Let me see the paper,” she says. Adam hands it over and she flips through. “You swear this is good stuff?”
“Better than a zero,” Adam tells her.
“You know you’re a real asshole?”
He shrugs. “Whatever it takes.”
She flips through again. Hands it back. “Five bucks.”
“What?”
“Five bucks a page.”
At the front of the room, Powers starts picking up the assignments. Adam gives Sara his poker face. “Ten bucks a page. Plus twenty dollars for the A.”
Sara says nothing. Sara thinks it over. Sara watches Powers coming up through the aisles.
This is it, Adam thinks.
She takes the bait
or
she rats me out.
He waits. Can’t breathe. Watches Sara as Powers gets closer.
Come on, he’s thinking. Come on, come on.
Powers is two desks away. Sara swears. “Fine,” she says. “Ten bucks a page, you little shit.”
Adam doesn’t flinch. “Cash,” he says. “Now.”
Sara glances at Powers again. Reaches into her purse and pulls out three twenties. Shoves them into Adam’s hand. “Happy? Put my fucking name on the fucking paper, Pizza Man.”
Adam takes another copy of the paper—this one printed with Sara’s name—from his backpack. Hands it to Powers in the nick of time. Then he takes out his wallet and pockets the twenties. Hands her a ten-dollar bill. Gives her his best approximation of an all-American smile.
“There you go,” he tells her. “Thank you, come again.”
Balls.
49.
Balls or no, Adam sweats that assignment.
Adam’s terrified.
What if Sara Bryant rats him out?
What if Powers somehow grows wise to the scheme?
What if?
What if?
What if?
50.
Mr. Powers hands the assignment back. “Even better than the last one.” He lets his eyes wander down Sara Bryant’s body. “Glad to see you’re waking up, Ms. Bryant.”
Sara gives him that smile, thanks him, waits until he’s moved along. Then she checks the grade on the paper. “Holy shit.” She flashes Adam the grade.
Holy shit is right.
92 percent.
Holy shit.
“Twenty bucks,” Adam tells her. He’s earned that bonus. Sara’s smile wavers a little, but she reaches for her purse.
“Two things,” she tells Adam as she hands over the money. “One, you don’t tell anyone we’re doing this.”
“Duh,” Adam says.
She pauses. “One more thing.”
“I’m not taking you to prom,” Adam tells her.
Sara makes a face. “That’s not actually funny.” She looks down at the twenty. “We do this again next time, okay? Same deal.”
“So long as you pay me,” Adam tells her.
Sara hands over the twenty. “Duh.”
51.
It works for a while. A couple more assignments. Low-nineties grades. Seventy bucks a pop. Sara pays up gladly now. She’s over the weirdness of it. Adam’s over the fear.
(Sara’s still calling him Pizza Man, but what the hell? She’s paying him.)
(Things are happening.)
Then Jessie McGill finds Adam in the hall. “I heard what you’re doing with Sara.”
Adam freezes. Adam blinks.
Adam puts on his poker face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Come on.” Jessie pulls him into an alcove. Stands so close that Adam can smell her perfume.
It’s Candy, by
Prada.
It’s intoxicating.
“So what’s the deal,” Jessie says. “How much is she paying you?”
Adam shrugs. “I gotta get to class.”
Jessie puts her arm out. Stops him. She’s smiling like this is all one big punch line—
(Which, Adam supposes, it is.)
(He’s the Pizza Man, after all.)
“How much?” Jessie says again.
Adam looks at her. Adam sighs. “Ten bucks a page,” he says. “Twenty bucks extra for an A. You happy?”
He tries to squeeze past her. Doesn’t wait for an answer. Jessie doesn’t move. “Wait,” she says.
Adam sighs again. He’s thinking about how much of a pariah he’s going to be when word gets out he’s extorting Sara Bryant in second-period physics.
But he waits anyway.
It’s Jessie McGill.
Jessie bites her bottom lip. Fixes Adam with those big brown eyes. Then she blows his mind. “Can we make a deal too?”
Adam stops trying to get out of there. For a minute, he considers the possibilities.
Two popular girls.
Two goddesses.
Then he shakes his head. “Not going to work,” he says. “We’re not lab partners, and Nadja thinks I’m crazy.”
“I’m not talking about physics,” Jessie says. “Nadja just does the assignments anyway. I don’t even have to ask.”
“So, I don’t get it,” Adam says. “What do you need me for?”
“English,” she says. “That Shakespeare essay. We’re allowed to work with partners, remember?”
Jessie bites her bottom lip again.
Jessie smiles.
Jessie says: “Will you be my partner, Adam?”
52.
Adam hands in the Shakespeare paper a week later. A couple days after that, Mrs. Stewart—
(the English teacher)
—hands it back to Jessie and Adam.
“Nice work, you two,” she says. “You should work together more often.”
Jessie McGill takes out her purse and peels off a twenty. “You heard her, Adam,” she says. “We should work together more often.”
“Whenever you want,” Adam tells her. “You know my rates.”
Jessie grins at him. “Then until next time, Pizza Man.”
53.
Still with the Pizza Man.
It triggers something in Adam.
He leans back across to Jessie McGill’s desk. “Listen,” he whispers. “You know anyone else who wants in on this action?”
“What do you mean?” Jessie says.
“This homework stuff,” he says. “You know anyone else who needs an A?”
“You mean, like, you’d do their projects too?”
Adam nods.
(Go big or go home.)
“Ask around,” he says. “Paul, Alton, Janie, tell them my rates. If they need something done, tell them to talk to Adam Higgs.”
Jessie cocks her head. “Wow, you’re quite the little schemer, aren’t you?”
Adam grins at her. “Whatever it takes.”
54.
“These are seriously hot girls,” Sam says. “And they’re friends with you now?”
Adam and Sam are eating McDonald’s—
(Adam’s treat)
—and Adam’s telling Sam about Sara Bryant and Jessie McGill while they scarf down Big Mac meals. He gets Sam to look up both girls on his phone. He tells Sam about the scent of Jessie McGill’s perfume.
“I’d say we’re pretty friendly,” Adam says.
“So, what?” Sam says. “She just asked you to do that project with her? Just out of the blue?”
Adam nods, eats a couple of fries before he answers.
Adam’s been thinking about this, about how to tell Sam about the homework scheme. It’s a delicate subject.
See, Sam was an athlete.
He was good-looking and popular.
Sam would never have to resort to some sleazy hustle to make friends at Riverside.
Sam probably won’t understand.
So Adam just shrugs. Chews his fries. “She came up to me out of the blue,” he tells Sam. “I guess maybe she just likes me.”
Sam grins at him. “Hot damn,” he says. “Didn’t I tell you your life was about to get better?”
55.
A couple days later:
Adam rolls up to his locker, finds Leanne Grayson waiting for him.
“Hey,” Leanne says. “Do you know Adam?”
“I’m Adam,” Adam says.
Leanne frowns. “Seriously? Everyone just calls you Pizza Man.”
Adam sighs.
“I’m the Pizza Man,” he says. “I’m Adam, too. What’s up?”
Leanne looks around. The hall is mostly deserted. Nobody’s listening anyway. “Jessie told me about you,” she says.
“Yeah?” Adam’s still burning from the Pizza Man thing. “And?”
“And . . .” Leanne trails off. Looks around again, like she’s pulling a drug deal or something.
“I wouldn’t normally do this,” she says. “It’s just, me and Janie want to go to Blue Mountain this weekend. First ski trip of the season.”
“Ten bucks a page,” Adam says. “Twenty extra for an A. What’s the class?”
Leanne blushes. “History,” she says. “That War of 1812 project for Mr. Shoemaker. I was thinking if you weren’t busy—”
“I’m never busy,” Adam tells her. “I’ll take it.”
56.
Adam’s lying, of course.
He’s busy.
He’s really busy.
It’s November by now. Teachers are getting squirrely with the projects. He’s doing Sara Bryant’s lab reports. There’s another English essay for Jessie McGill on the horizon.
Adam’s got his Pizza Hut job.
(Pizza Man.)
And he tries to see Sam after school, a few times a week. Especially now that this homework scheme is running and he actually has friends—
(“friends”)
—to tell Sam about.
And then he does his own homework too, if he has time.
He’s not too busy to turn down work, though. Especially from someone like Leanne Grayson. But if there’s one immutable law about Nixon Collegiate, it’s:
wherever Leanne Grayson goes,
Janie Ng goes too.
57.
Janie Ng finds Adam in the hallway. Drags him into a corner. “Did Leanne talk to you?” she says. “About that history project?”
Adam nods. “You’re going skiing, she said. So? It’s not a group project, is it?”
Janie shakes her head. “No, but I was thinking.”
“Yeah?” Adam says.
Janie sighs. “Well, listen,” she says. “If Leanne doesn’t have to do a project, I don’t want to do one either.”
“You want me to do yours, too,” Adam says. “Two major projects on the same topic and they’re due in a week.”
Janie grins. Sheepish. “We procrastinated.”
Adam mulls it over. Each paper’s gotta be about ten pages. That’s a hundred bucks each, plus the bonus.
It also means writing three papers on the same subject in a week.
Plus Sara’s lab assignment.
Plus Jessie’s English paper.
“Fuck it,” Adam tells Janie.
“You’re on.”
58.
Janie Ng loves it.
Janie Ng’s thrilled.
Janie Ng hugs Adam.
Yay.
“Where’s your phone?” she says. “Let me give you my number. Just in case, you know, you need to call or whatever.”
Crap.
“It’s in the shop,” he tells Janie. Lies. “Something’s wrong with the battery. I can just find you at school, though.”
Janie’s face kind of falls. “Well, okay,” she says. “Wait, are you on Facebook?”
“Yeah,” Adam says.
(Because somewhere between the lab assignments and the English projects and the Pizza Hut gig, he signed up for Facebook.)
(He has two friends.)
(One of them is Steph.)
(Adam’s mom made him friend her.)
How to Win at High School Page 5
