She mulls it over for a moment before concluding that it was “just stupid enough to work.”

We hurriedly sneak into the gym door and Ashley writes me a pass for the nurse for 8:32.

“If I put a rounded number it might look fake. Now hurry up and get to class. You still might be able to catch most of second period.”

“Bye babe,” I say, giving her a quick peck on the lips.

During lunch, Madison questions my absence on the bus, but I pass it off as a faulty alarm clock.

Finally, the glorious seventh period arrives.

Our teams are called out onto the field and we receive our game assignments. This time we face team seven. The team’s players are unknown to me, which is rare. As self-proclaimed ruler of this terrible excuse of a school, I make it my duty to know every person in the student body. My subjects are loyal to their queen, and I them. I win the trophies and pretend to know who they are when I pass in the halls and in return they worship the ground I tread. For some strange reason, a track star at King High is revered more than a quarterback or point guard. Go figure, although I’m not complaining.

“Hey, what’s your name?” I ask a scrawny looking kid. He couldn’t have been more than ninety pounds and his crooked thick rimmed glasses screamed ‘nerd!’

He sniffled. “Arwin.”

“You look familiar but I don’t think I’ve seen you around. Are you new?”

“No. I work in the office most of the time because I’m an office assistant, AV manager, and a hall monitor.” He snorts a laugh and chuckles,” Senior privilege is awesome!”

Office assistant? He’s the kid who had to change Madison’s schedule. As these thoughts run through my mid, I feel a presence behind me.

“Hey! Ernie, get over here,” Madison beckons.

“It’s Arwin,” he correct timidly.

Yeah. Whatever. Look, Arnie, I need a pass from Bio. They’re dissecting today and I just got a manicure,” she explains, waving her fresh French nails in front of his face.