At school, the boys and I were playing football in the hall. I was defense and Shawn was offense.

"Steve Young takes the snap. Jerry Rice goes long. He throws a perfect 60-yard pass and hits-" Cory ranted, as Shawn ran in front of the bathroom, but as Cory threw the ball, it had hit Frankie. "A blue 1995 Buick Regal."

"Run!" Shawn yelled, pulling me by the hand and running around a hall with Cory.

Soon, Cory noticed they weren't following and looked around the corner at Frankie and Joey, still not moving from their places.

"They're not moving," I say.

"Maybe they lapped us," Shawn said.

Cory approached them. "Uh, Frankie, Joey, I realize it's none of my business why you're not beating us up, but why aren't you beating us up?"

They didn't answer, just stared down at a piece of paper.

"Maybe they don't understand," Shawn suggested.

"I'll translate," I tell then before changing my voice to a New York accent. "Why ain't you pounding my boys to a pulp?"

Nothing from them.

"Here here, let me try," Shawn said, taking Frankie's arm. "Hey! Why no this..." Shawn imitated being punched.

"Sorry, the thrill is gone," Frankie replied.

"Too bad. What you got there?" Shawn asked.

"It's a letter from Harley Keiner," Joey answered sadly.

"It's okay, Joey," Frankie tried.

"How's Harley doing in his new reform school?" Shawn questioned.

"It's called juvenile boot camp," Frankie corrected. "He loves it, thank you very much."

Joey started getting choked up. "He never wants to come home. He doesn't say it here, but I think he's got a new gang."

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"You don't get it, Cooper. We're lackeys. We're hangers-on with nothing to hang on to," Joey answered.

"Come on, Joey, we might as well go to class," Frankie said, picking up and carrying Joey.

"It's come to this," Joey whimpered as they walked down the hall.

"Okay, we're back live," Cory said, backing up with the football causing me and Shawn too as well. My arms waving frantically in front of Shawn, trying to block him. "Second half. Steve Young back to pass."

"Jerry Rice is open," Shawn called, moving out of my reach.

"He throws!"

Mr. Feeny came around the corner as Cory threw the ball and the teacher and principal caught it. "Intercepted!" I exclaim.

"By Feeny," Shawn said.

"The wily veteran," Mr. Feeny added.

"I stink," Cory remarked.

"I agree," Mr. Feeny replied. "Have you seen your latest test score? If Mr.
Matthews stinks, you, Mr. Hunter, are as odoriferous as a dead man in July," he gave the boys their tests.

"A 12. How do you get a 12?" Shawn asked.

"I don't know. You ever open a book?"

"What?" Shawn asked, generally confused.

Mr. Feeny turned to him quickly. "A book! Do you ever open a book?"

"What?!" Shawn asked, looking at Cory.

"Don't ask me, I got a 16," Cory replied.

"Gentlemen, do you ever go home and open a book?" Mr. Feeny asked them.

"What?" Shawn asked, once more.

"Oh, you poor thing," I coo, looking at Shawn, moving a piece of hair out of his eyes.

"I want you to go home this afternoon and open a book!" Mr. Feeny exclaimed. "I don't care what you had otherwise planned, I order you-Nay, I command you. Go home and open a book!"

"George?" Mr. Turner approached.

"What?!"

"Watch this." He turned to Cory and Shawn. Hi, boys nice boys. Nice boys." They both nodded, smiling.

I pat both of their head. "Good boys."

"Fellas, did you hear anything Mr. Feeny just said?"

"No," Shawn answered.

"He's real mad," Cory whispered.

"Do you have any idea why?" Mr. Turner asked.

"No, he just started yelling like a crazy man," Shawn replied.

"Huh," Mr. Feeny said before beginning to walk away. "You know, I'd give up on them, but I don't think they'd notice."

"What?" Shawn asked.

Mr. Feeny walked away, but Mr. Turner spoke, "Guys, I hate to add to your troubles, but your book reports were due on my desk by the end of the class."

"Hey, he took our ball, man," Shawn said.

"Hey, wait, I didn't hear anything about any book reports," Cory added.

"Yes, he did," I say.

"I only mentioned it every day in class for the last two weeks," Mr. Turner said.

"Look, Mr. Turner, just give us 'till Wednesday? I swear we'll have them in. Tuesday?" Cory asked.

"I'm grading them Sunday."

"So Tuesday?" Shawn questioned.

"Please, Mr. Turner, help me bring up my grades," Cory said. "I just got a 16."

"And poor Shawn got a 12," I say.

"Between us it makes 24," Shawn replied.

"28," Mr. Turner corrected.

"Thanks."

"Okay, I'll throw you one. Have your papers in my hand, at my place, Sunday, 5:00, not a minute later."

"All right, Mr. Turner, I should tell you My dog ate it," Shawn excused.

"Not yet," Cory whispered to him.

"Babe, just stand and look cute," I tell him before turning to Mr. Turner. "I'll help them."

"Actually, mind if I talk to you for a minute, Betty?" Mr. Turner asked.

"Not at all," I answer, following him into the classroom.

***

At Cory's house-

"You what I can't figure out?" Cory asked. "How do these other kids get their work in on time and get such good grades?"

"Well, I got a theory, Cor," Shawn spoke. "See, it runs in the family. Our ancestors were all slackers and goof-offs and now we're paying the price."

I facepalm as Cory replied. "That's a good theory."

"Cory, not that I'm enjoying Shawn being my pillow," I say, having my head on his lap. "But we still need to do the book report."

"All right, if I make this one, we start," Cory told me, sitting up and tossing his basketball towards his hoop, but it went out the window.

"Open a book!" Mr. Feeny yelled from outside the window.

"What?" Shawn questioned.

"I wish there was some way to do a book report without reading the book," Cory said.

"They can put a man on the moon, but you still gotta read."

"I got it! We rent the movie and copy the junk on the back of the box."

"No, no," I object.

"You're a genius!" Shawn exclaimed, standing up.

"What, you think that 16 was an accident?" Cory asked.

"I need new friends," I sigh, getting up. "But I'm never gonna get any so what the heck?"

***

At school, the boys and I approached Frankie and Joey who were staring blankly.

"Hey, watch this," Cory told us before pulling out a dollar bill. "Hey, guys! Look, look milk money. See it? Smell it!" He pushed it under their noses. "Feel it," he rubbed it against their faces. I tried my best not to laugh. "Can't you just imagine how good you'd feel just ripping this from my hands and stuffing me in the garbage can?"

"Wow! Cor, stick your whole head in Frankie's mouth," Shawn remarked.

"Come on, guys. What have we ever done to you?" Frankie asked.

"A lot of things," I say.

"Ohh..." Frankie said in realization.

***

At my house, I was watching Full House, Zack was upstairs and my mom was at work like usual.

The doorbell rang. I shut off the TV and open the door.

"Hey, Shawn, I just about-" He cut me off, by pressing his lips to mine in a kiss. I back away. "Shawn?"

"I love you, Betts. You're the greatest girlfriend in the world," he told me.

I smile. "Aw, I love you too. Now, you want something, don't you?"

"What? Can't I just come over tell you how great you are?"

"You're out of breath from running, I doubt you would run to my house just to tell me that."

"Okay, yes. I need a favor, babe."

"Knew it. What?" I ask.

"Me and Cory may or may not have found Mr. Turner's lesson plan for Tuesday-"

I groan, sinking on the couch. "Seriously, Shawn."

"I couldn't help myself," Shawn sat next to me. "The lesson was just calling out to me. Chaps eight, ten to sixteen."

"That's what we need to study?" I ask.

"Yes, I was thinking you could help me since you always do really good on everything."

I was truthfully looking for a way to get out of it. "I don't always do really good-"

Shawn leaned over, kissing me softly. "Please, beautiful."

I sigh. "Dang it, Shawn. You know how to woo a girl."

"What?" he asked.

"I'll help you," I correct myself.

***

In Mr. Turner's class-

"Okay, everybody, books under your desks. It's pop quiz day," Mr. Turner announced.

Half of the class groaned.

"That is so unfair, Mr. Turner. You caught us totally off guard," Cory said, sounding like a machine.

"Totally," Shawn added.

"Gee, if you're not ready, we'll just postpone 'till tomorrow," Mr. Turner replied.

"No, no. Those of us who haven't prepared will just have to pay the price," Cory said.

"So go ahead, pop us," Shawn added.

I groan, throwing my head onto my desk.

"Okay," Mr. Turner responded.

Both boys got out their stacks of pencils. "Number-two pencil, anyone?" Shawn asked.

***

After the pop quiz-

"A 92!" Shawn exclaimed outside of the class. "I've gotten a nine, I've gotten a two, but never together."

"I'm so proud of you, Shawn," I tell him. "What you get?" I ask Cory.

"96," Cory answered, reluctantly.

"Well, jump up and down!" Shawn exclaimed, jumping with me.

"I can't," Cory said.

"Why not?"

"Because we both know I studied for it."

"So did I. Betty helped us. That's why we didn't tell anybody," Shawn replied.

"Yeah, but I feel like a cheater. Shawn, I can't live like this. I never should have studied. Boy, what I wouldn't give for an F right now." Cory hunched over. "Oh, oh my stomach."

"Cory, you okay?" I ask.

"This is the way it is. We both studied and we got good grades. Now deal with it," Shawn told him.

"Oh, oh, now my head hurts," Cory complained. "We gotta tell Turner. It's the right thing to do."

"No, Cory, come on! I got a 92. This one grade alone gives me a decent shot at a trade school."

"You guys did great! Be happy!" I tell him.

"Oh oh, boy ah-" Cory continued.

***

"Mr. Turner?" Cory called, all of us walking into a classroom.

"Betty, Matthews and Hunter, the A-team," Mr. Turner cheered. "How does it feel, being at the top of the curve?"

"Great! Glad we talked about it. Bye," Shawn said, trying to walk away.

"No, my stomach," Cory said once more, getting Shawn to stop. "Mr.
Turner, I gotta tell you. We knew about the quiz in advance."

"We, um, We kind of saw it at your house in your lesson plan."

"The one I left open on my desk?" Mr. Turner asked.

"Yeah," Shawn answered.

"The one I easily could have covered, but I didn't?"

"Yeah, that's the one. All right, what's going on here, Mr. Turner? If that's your real name."

"I want you to get good grades," Mr. Turner stated.

"By letting us cheat?" Cory asked.

"Guys, that assignment has been the homework for the last two weeks," I say to them.

"It has?" Shawn asked.

"Wait. You mean you want us to know what to study?" Cory asked Mr. Turner.

"Well, I'm lost," Shawn said.

"The day he talked about the book report to you guys. Mr. Turner came to me and asked for my help to get you guys good grades."

"Wait, you knew?"

"Yeah, Mr. Turner knows I'm the only one who studies out of the three of us. He knew once you found the lesson plan, you guys would come to me eventually for help."

"Huh," Cory said. "You want us to know what to study?"

"It's the whole idea," Mr. Turner said.
"I stand in front of the class and talk, you learn. It's called education."

"So that's why this building exists," Shawn says in realization. "Some of us are students and some of us are teachers. And if the students listen to the teachers, then...Oh, I almost got it."

"Then they get good grades," Cory finished.

"Yeah, but why?!" Shawn exclaimed.

"Why do you think, Shawn?" I ask.

"Because if you get good grades, it means you've actually learned something. Am I close?"

"Close," Mr. Turner answered, talking to Mr. Feeny. "Wouldn't you say, George?"

"I must say I'm surprised, Mr. Turner," Mr. Feeny told him.

"You know, guys, you can get A's again, anytime you want," Mr. Turner told them.

"You mean we can look at your lesson plan?" Shawn asked.

"Absolutely. It's up there on the blackboard, everyday."

"Whoa!" the boys say.

"Now get outta here. Go home and open a book."

"You got it," Shawn said.

"What?" I ask, but looking at Shawn's expression I laugh. "Kidding."

Mr. Feeny stopped the boys. "Hold it, Mr. Matthews, Mr. Hunter. Am I to understand that you've heard all this and are now going home to open a book?"

"Yeah, we heard him load and clear," Cory said.

"He was talkin' right to us," Shawn added.

***

At school-

"Guys, look, there they are," Cory smiled. "The thugs formerly known as thugs." Before walking over to a trash can. "Shawn, look! A trash can. Let's take a look inside."

"Isn't that dangerous with Frankie and Joey watching?" Shawn asked.

"I am scared, but I'm willing to take a chance."

"Uh, boys, I wouldn't," I began, but they already stuck their heads inside.

"Hey, hey can we?" Joey asked, looking to a cute-whoa, hot guy.

"Knock yourselves out," the hot guy answered on the pay phone.

Frankie and Joey both peeked in. "Hello!" they both said.

"Hi," I saw to the hottie once he got off the phone. "You're the new leader to the lackies?" I ask.

"Yeah, sure," he answered. "You the leader to those idiots?" he nudged to the boys who were already climbing in the trashcan.

"Slightly smarter friend of those idiots," I answer, sticking my hand. "I'm Betty Cooper."

He nodded, shaking my hand. "Griff Hawkins."

"Huh. Something tells me I'm going to like you a bit more than..." Harley Keiner. "And old pal of Joey and Frankie's."

***