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around. The, er, Angels, I mean.”
    â€œOf course.” Father Dom shook his head. “What a tragedy. Poor souls. So innocent. So young. Oh. Oh, my.” He sheepishly held up the GameBoy. “High score.”
    That’s when I decided I’d spent quite enough time in the principal’s office for one day. Gina, who attended my old school back in Brooklyn, had a different spring break than the Mission Academy’s, so while she was getting to spend her vacation in California, she had to endure a few days following me around from class to class—at least until I could figure out a way for us to ditch without getting caught. Gina was back in world civ with Mr. Walden, and I hadn’t any doubt that she was getting into all sorts of trouble while I was gone.
    â€œAll righty then,” I said, getting up. “Let me know if you hear anything more about those kids.”
    â€œYes, yes,” Father Dominic said, his attention riveted to the GameBoy once again. “Bye for now.”
    As I left his office, I could have sworn I heard him say a bad word after the GameBoy let out a warning beep. But that would have been so unlike him, I must have heard wrong.
    Yeah. Right.

Chapter
Four
    When I got back to world civ, Kelly Prescott, my friend Adam McTavish, Rob Kelleher—one of the class jocks, and a good buddy of Dopey’s—and this quiet kid whose name I could never remember were just finishing up their presentation on the Nuclear Arms Race: Who Will Come in First?
    It was a bogus assignment, if you asked me. I mean, with the fall of communism in Russia, who even cared?
    I guess that was the point. We should care. Because as the charts Kelly’s group was holding up revealed, there were some countries that had way more bombs and stuff than we did.
    â€œOkay,” Kelly was saying, as I came in and laid my hall pass on Mr. Walden’s desk before going to my seat. “Like, as you can see, the U.S. is pretty well-stocked with missiles, and stuff, but as far as tanks, the Chinese have been way better at building up their military—” Kelly pointed to a bunch of little red bombs on her chart. “And they could totally annihilate us if they wanted to.”
    â€œExcept,” Adam pointed out, “that there are more privately owned handguns in America than there are in the whole of the Chinese army, so—”
    â€œSo what?” Kelly demanded. I could sense that there was some division amongst the ranks of this particular group. “What good are handguns against tanks? I am so sure we are all going to stand around and shoot off our handguns at the tanks the Chinese are running us over with.”
    Adam rolled his eyes. He hadn’t exactly been thrilled to be assigned to a group with Kelly.
    â€œYeah,” Rob said.
    The grade for the group projects was split, with thirty percent counting toward participation. I guess that “Yeah” had been Rob’s contribution.
    The kid whose name I didn’t know didn’t say anything. He was a tall, skinny kid with glasses. He had the kind of pasty white skin that made it obvious he didn’t get to the beach much. ThePalm Pilot in his shirt pocket revealed why.
    Gina, who was sitting behind me, leaned forward and presented me with a note, written on a page of the spiral notebook in which she’d been doodling.
    Where the hell have you been? she wanted to know.
    I picked up a pen and wrote back, I told you. Principal wanted to see me.
    About what? Gina asked. Have you been up to your old tricks again???
    I didn’t blame her for asking. Let’s just say that at our old school, back in Brooklyn, I’d been forced to skip class a lot. Well, what do you expect? I’d been the only mediator for all five boroughs of New York. That’s a lot of ghosts! Here at least I had Father D. to help out once in a while.
    I wrote back, Nothing like that. Father Dom is our student council