Surviving High School

his pant leg. His nose twitched as if he were a bloodhound, tracking Ben and Spencer by scent.
    “Uh—” said Emily.
    “A correct response would be either yes or no,” the officersaid. He looked suspiciously over Emily’s shoulder at the bathroom door.
    “A couple of guys ran off that way,” said Emily, pointing down the hall that Ben had indicated earlier. Without another word, Monte ran down the hallway at full speed, one hand on his hat to keep it from blowing off.
    “He gone?” asked Ben from inside the girls’ room.
    “Yeah.”
    Ben opened the door and peeked out.
    “Wow,” he said. “Girls write way dirtier stuff on the bathroom walls than guys do. I didn’t see you mentioned anywhere, though. Too bad.”
    “Well, most people don’t call me Yogurt.”
    “I know. But Emily Kessler? That’s just so, I don’t know—boring. Yogurt suits you way better.”
    For a moment, Emily was speechless. He knew her name. He must have asked someone about her. Maybe he’d even Googled her—or Facebook-stalked her! Her photos didn’t show up to strangers, right? Kimi had posted that one of them dressed up like Uma Thurman and Lucy Liu in Kill Bill for Halloween!
    “Uh, Yogurt?”
    “That’s not my name!” Emily said, crossing her arms, but she couldn’t keep from smiling. There was no doubt about it. He was flirting with her.
    “Hey!” They heard a shout at the end of the hall. “You! Stop right there!”
    “That would be my cue to leave,” said Ben as they lookeddown the hall to see Monte charging toward them full-speed. “Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.”
    “Maybe,” she said. “Anyway, I’d better get to practice.”
    He was backing up now, ready to turn and run.
    “You never know when swim practice might be canceled!” he shouted. “I’ll see you around!”
    Ben turned and fled, Officer Monte following close behind. For a moment, Emily stood watching them, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Ben Kale knew her name, had just spent two minutes flirting with her, and had said he wanted to “see you again sometime.” But what did he mean about practice being canceled? She walked down the empty hall toward the pool.
    The rest of the swim team, still in their street clothes, stood by the blocks as Emily entered the gym. The girls peered nervously at the water as Emily’s dad paced back and forth, swearing under his breath. The pool was green. Bright green. And instead of chlorine, it smelled like apples.
    “Uh, what’s going on?” Emily whispered to Hannah Carmichael as she joined the crowd.
    “Apparently some boys dumped, like, thirty vials of green food coloring into the pool. And maybe some other stuff, too, based on the smell.”
    “I think it smells kinda yummy,” said Amanda, a cute, red-haired girl who was one of the weaker swimmers on varsity and a notorious airhead. “I kind of want to drink it.”
    “No one’s drinking it!” shouted Emily’s dad. “No one’s somuch as dipping a pinkie toe in there until we drain the thing and pump in fresh water. Who knows what chemicals are in there? I’m not getting sued by some mother whose daughter’s skin turns green.”
    “So is practice canceled?” asked Lindsay hopefully.
    “Absolutely not,” said Emily’s dad. “The school still has a weight room, doesn’t it? Unless someone turned that green, too.”
    So much for Ben’s plan of getting practice canceled. The girls muttered insults and cursed their luck as they marched toward the locker room to change into workout clothes. Lindsay and Amanda breathed in deeply as they left the room, filling their nostrils with the pleasant apple scent.
    “You two, wait,” said Emily’s dad, pointing to Emily and Dominique. “I’m pulling you out for the first hour to talk to a reporter, Maria St. Claire from Swimmer’s Monthly . I believe I mentioned she’d be coming? She’s waiting in the hall.”
    The two girls exchanged a worried glance. This sounded like a bad idea.
    “She’s talking to us together?” asked Emily.
    “Is there a problem with that?”
    Yes , Emily thought. There’s a big problem: Dominique and I hate each other!
    She smiled weakly.
    “No problem at all, Coach.”
    Five minutes later, Maria St. Claire had shaken the girls’ hands, introduced herself, and escorted them into an emptyclassroom, where she pulled three combination desk-and-chair sets together to form a group.
    Up close, the overpowering citrus scent of the