Page 27 of For Your Own Good

“Of course they are,” Danielle says.

Teddy looks at Courtney, who is staring at her desk. She doesn’t raise her hand to say anything. Unusual for her. Must be all that work on theBugle, which comes out in just two days, because it certainly isn’t the book.

“I know some of you have probably read this before,” Teddy says. “So without giving anything away, what else has struck you about this book?”

“The nicknames,” someone says. “Ponyboy, Sodapop, Two-Bit. It’s weird.”

“Is it? Don’t some of you have nicknames?”

A few students nod.

“So maybe the names themselves are odd, but not the idea of having a nickname,” Teddy says. “What else?”

“The division is so clear, even in the first chapter,” Danielle says. “There are the Socs and Greasers. It’s like the middle class doesn’t exist for Ponyboy.”

“Because it doesn’t.”

Courtney.

Finally.

“What do you mean by that?” Teddy says.

“The middle class doesn’t pick on the Greasers. The Socs do—they beat them up. That’s why it’s important.”

“Excellent,” Teddy says. “And why do you think the Socs beat up the Greasers?”

“They think they’re better,” Alex says. “Because they’re rich.”

“But bullying isn’t like it used to be. It’s not like any ofusbully kids who don’t have money,” Danielle says.

Most of the students nod, including Courtney.

Granted, the students at Belmont aren’t violent, and there aren’t many fights at the school. Still, Teddy wants them to realize how hypocritical they are about the way they treat those who are less fortunate. Like the scholarship kids. They’re always pariahs.

There’s one in his class right now. Katherine, one of the Invisibles, who sit in the back. She says nothing during this conversation. Teddy would call on her but doesn’t want to embarrass the poor girl.

He remembers what it was like to be that kid. What it was like to be looked down on. It’s not so different now, as an adult. His picture isn’t on the wall because he couldn’t afford to attend Belmont.

Always the outsider. Just like in the book.

The same book Allison was reading when he met her.

SHE WAS SITTINGin front of a grocery store. Teddy almost passed right by her on his way in. Someone was always gathering donations for one organization or another, and usually the tables were manned by a group of children and parents. He’d never stopped.

Not until he saw Allison.

She sat behind a fold-out table, book in hand, and she twirled a strand of dark hair around her finger. The hand-printed sign on the table read:

Memorial Hospital Fundraiser

The Children’s Wing needs toys!

Can you help make a sick child smile?

The sign was decorated with a bunch of stick figures resembling kids with big smiles on their faces. Teddy stopped and stared at it a second too long.

“You don’t like my drawing?” she said.