Revenge of the Snob Squad Read Online Free Page B

before. I stored it in my repertoire for
     Vanessa.
    “Come on.” She led us out the door toward the microbus. “Oh, and Scuzz-Gut,” she hollered back through the torn screen. “Don’t
     get drunk. You have to drive Solano home later.”
    From the doorway, across the dim kitchen and through the torn back screen, his eyes met mine. I could tell he was thrilled.
     He guzzled half the can. Be still, my stomach.
    The Peacemobile seemed a strange place to set up a command post for war. But it was, in a word, awesome. My dad would say
     cool, hip, groovy. The exterior—the part that wasn’t rusted out—had once been plastered with hundreds, maybe thousands, of
     peace symbols. You know, the circle with the upside-down Y inside? All sizes, shapes, colors.
    “You got anything to eat?” Max said as she yanked open the squeaky side panel to the microbus and motioned us in.
    The magic word. I scrounged in my backpack. Yikes. My supplies were dwindling. We’d depleted a lot of the inventory at lunch.
     Feeling around, I noticed a lump in my front jeans pocket. Voila. I held up half a package of Bit-o-Honey.
    “Great.” Max grabbed it. “Sit.” She waved us to a saggy, flowered couch.
    As I sat, a spring ripped through the upholstery and bit my butt. I screamed and Prairie giggled. Lydia lowered herself cautiously,
     flicking a hunk of sponge to the floor.
    Max ripped off one segment of Bit-o-Honey and passed around the last three squares. “All right,” she said, flopping into a
     pistachio green beanbag chair across from us. “We have to attack tomorrow. Let ’em know we won’t put up with any more of this
     crap.”
    “Wait a minute,” Lydia interrupted. “I’m the captain of this squad. I should be in charge.”
    Max lounged back. She crossed one army boot over her knee. “Okay.” She bit into her Bit-o-Honey. “You’re in charge.”
    Lydia cleared her throat. She stood. Clasping her hands behind her back, she began to pace. About four steps. That was all
     the room she had. “We have to strike soon.” She pivoted in place. “The sooner the better.”
    “Tomorrow,” Max garbled.
    Lydia silenced her with a look. Dangerous move, I thought. Lydia continued, “They’re going to have to pay for these pants,
     number one.”
    I groaned. “Look, the only way to really get at these airheads is to give them a taste of their own medicine. Taunt them.
     Torment them. Humiliate them in public.” I said to Lydia, “Like Ashley does to you a hundred times a day.”
    “Excellent.” Lydia spun on me. “What’s your plan, Solano?”
    I balked. “I don’t have a plan. You’re in charge, remember?”
    Lydia turned to Max. Max shrugged.
    It was quiet in the van for a few minutes, so quiet you could hear metal rusting. Out of nowhere, a tiny voice piped up, “I-I-I
     have an idea.”
    All eyes locked on Prairie. She told us what it was. I think the Bit-o-Honey may have given her the inspiration, while it
     just gave the rest of us cavities.
    Besides being brilliant, Prairie’s plan was devious, demented, and dirty. We loved it.
    Before the meeting broke up, we made a pact. If one of us goes down, we all go down. We stacked hands on it. The next day
     I wished I hadn’t.

Chapter 6
    W hen I got home, Mom met me at the door. “Who was that?” she asked, watching Scuzz-Gut spew gravel as he ripped away from the
     curb. Miraculously he’d managed not to total the car on the ride home. Max came along, thank God. She still scared me, but
     her brother reminded me of this serial killer my dad once told me about. Jeffrey Dahmer. He chopped up his victims and stored
     their body parts in the fridge. For a year after that, I shivered every time I opened the fridge, and not from the cold. Something
     in the way Scuzz-Gut eyed me and drooled sent chills down my spine.
    “Max and Scuzz—” I stopped. “Just a ride. Where’s Dad?”
    Mom closed the door behind me, still staring down the block where the smoking