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Max

They never list the names. Just the numbers.

Every year the school posts the SAT scores in the lobby, where anyone can see them. But they don't put the names -- like Jeff Stein got 2340, Susie Chen got 1160. They just put the numbers and let you guess who got what.

Which, of course, is what everybody does.

It's easier than you think. Like some kids, the math geniuses and future physicists, you can pretty much figure out they're the 2300s. If someone gets 2400, it always comes out who it is. "Oh, don't tell anyone, but I got 2400." Yeah, right. Next day everyone's like,"Hegot 2400.He'sgoing to Yale."

And it's not too hard to figure out who's at the bottom of the list. Who got in the 1200s -- when they give you 600 points just for writing your name. You think of the stoners, the jocks, kids who just say, "Screw it." Because some kids do. They say they don't care what they get, and they mean it.

Then there's everybody else, all clumped together in the middle. The pretty goods, the fines...also known as the not good enoughs, the not quite acceptables.

Last year when I took the PSATs for the first time, I told myself I wouldn't look at the list.

But I did. And there it was: my score.This is where you are, Max. This is how much you count for.

Sometimes I think,What's worse? Doing just okay, or totally bottoming out?There's a weird honor in completely screwing up, in scoring so low that no college'll take you except the ones that take everyone, including mental cases and paint eaters. The kid at the top has that spot all to himself. But so does the kid at the bottom.

When you're trying to figure out who got what, you remember -- who looked happy the day after you got the scores? Who looked bummed out, who was crying?

Mr. Crowley, our college adviser, always says, "The top colleges can only take so many kids from Dewey." Only a few of you, maybe even only one of you, are going to get to go to Yale or Harvard."

In other words, like it or not, you're all in competition with one another.

Part I

Pick Up Your No. 2 Pencil. Begin.

Leo

In New York everybody knows everybody else. Well, there are all these people you totally don't know -- like cabdrivers and the freaks in the park -- but they don't count. The people who count, the kids who go to your school or schools like your school, we all know one another. It's like a club. "Dalton, check. Prada, check. Summers in Europe or the Hamptons, check." We all want the same things and we all do the same stuff to get them.

Like college. You can pretend you don't want to go to Yale or Harvard or Brown -- but you do. Unless you're a nose picker. In life there are those who count and there are nose pickers. Very few people actually count for anything -- even though everybody likes to think they do.

Anyway, I'm not surprised when I walk into the SAT prep class in the last week of summer vacation and there's at least three other kids from Dewey.

Without even thinking, I size them up.

Daisy Stubbs. Plays b-ball, dates b-ball. Heavily into saving things, from the planet to the guy at the party who thinks it's a cool idea to mix tequila and schnapps. I've been to a lot of parties where Daisy's holding somebody's head while they puke. She's a lot of guys' dream, but I never saw the big deal.

Strictly state school. No threat.

Of course, next to Daisy is her best bud, Max. Max is a little guy. Those who can't play, write for the school paper. He'd probably tell you it's all about the game, but it's like, dude, girls in shorts? Who are you kidding?

Max is smart. He could be thinking Ivies. Maybe Columbia.

Then there's Jane Cotterell. When she came to our school last year, we were like, "Sweet, Julia Cotterell's daughterandshe passes for a babe." But Jane speaks

to no one. Shy or stuck-up? Can't tell. Guess when your mom's a movie star, you don't mix with the little people.

Possible threat. But only because of Mom.

I take a seat, look around. No sign of the teacher, and it's almost time to start. While we wait, I open my notebook and start a list, "Five People I Don't Know Who Count."

1. Bill Gates

2. Quentin Tarantino (or Steven Soderbergh)

3. Bono

And maybe, just maybe, Jane Cotterell.

Jane

I really, really hope they don't make us go around and say our names. I hate that. Somebody always asks, "Hey, is your mom Julia Cotterell?"

I have two standard answers: "Um, yeah" or "No, but I get that all the time."

I hardly ever do "Um, yeah," because then you get, "Oh, I loved her inPersuasion,"or "She totally deserved the Oscar that year." And then what do you say? "Thanks"?

My mom would be so on me right now. There are three kids from Dewey here, and she'd be like, "Why don't you say hi? Why don't you talk to them? They don't have fangs, for God's sake."

Mom, believe me, Daisy and Max would find me utterly boring, and Leo Thayer is a BP who talks only to other BPs.

Where is the SAT guy, anyway?

Max

Just when I'm thinkingIs this class ever going to start?this bald guy sticks his head in the door and gasps, "Can't find the booklets. Stay put, I'll be right back...."

I feel Daisy's notebook nudge my hand. I look at what she's written.

"It's a sign. Let's split."

I write,"Can't. Must learn secrets ofa, b, c, d,ore."

Daisy scribbles some more.

"a. This is lame.

b. This is boring.

c. This sucks.

d. All of the above.

e. LET'S SPLIT!!"

Last year Daisy and I both said prep was elitist and sick, and we swore we wouldn't do it. Then we got our PSAT scores, and well, I guess things change.

I tell myself everyone does prep. Even Tory McEwan, who got the one perfect score in the school last year, did prep. There's no shame in it.

I just feel...disgusting, that's all.

The SAT guy is back. He pants, "Just a few more minutes, I'm arranging for backup."

Then he disappears. Leo Thayer makes a big show of looking at his watch. "That's ten minutes gone. This one class costs a hundred dollars, this guy owes us each ten bucks."

A girl with pink fingernails who obviously thinks Leo is hot says, "Totally."

I tell myself I don't hate Leo Thayer because he's one of the Beautiful People and so many women think he's hot. I tell myself I hate Leo Thayer because he's an egotistical schmuck.

And I almost believe myself.

Then Daisy says loudly, "Screw the ten bucks. Let's just walk out."

Daisy

Well, someone had to say something.

I mean, God, we were all just sitting there like,Oh, please, Mr. Brilliant SAT Man, share your wisdom with us. We have paid you hundreds of dollars for the wonderful privilege.

And those who don't have hundreds of dollars, well, screw them.

And those who don't go to private school, screw them, too.

I said to my parents, "Doesn't it bother you, just alittle,how unfair this is? How the whole system is completely and disgustingly rigged?"

And they were like, "Yeah, but you're going anyway."

Yay, principles.

Last year Coach said she would bench me if I didn't quit arguing with the refs all the time. So I've been trying not to lose it so much. But this whole scene is just too obnoxious. I say it again: "Let's walk out."

If this were a movie, this would be the part where the crowd rises up with a huge roar and burns something down.

But all that happens is Leo Thayer rolls his eyes and says...

Leo

"What, because the guy didn't show?"

Because yeah, I'm annoyed the guy is late, but that doesn't mean Daisy gets to piss on the whole thing. I knowexactlywhat she's thinking. And I'm sorry, I know some kids go to lousy schools and never learn to read -- but how is me screwing up my SATs going to help?

I tell her, "You think there shouldn't be any test at all. Colleges should just take us because we're nice and kind to animals. Not 'cause we're...smart or anything."

Daisy cocks her head like she's thinking about it. "Well, if we're so smart, how come we have to pay some jerk to teach us how to take a freaking test?"

She looks me right in the eye, and I have a weird flash. Some party where this girl was following me around, all boo-hoo, because...I don't know, she had ideas. She got herself totally trashed, and Daisy took her home. When they were leaving, Daisy looked back at me, and I was like,Not my problem.Daisy gave me this look:Whose problem is it?

I said then and I say now: not mine.

Although it's seriously pissing me off that this guy is so late....

Max

Probably most of the kids here think Daisy's kidding.Yeah, she says "Let's walk out," but she doesn't really mean it.

Except she does. She totally means it.

I look around the classroom. Here's what I see: a bunch of kids who know the whole college game is stacked against kids without money and connections.

And...a bunch of kids with money and connections.

All of a sudden Daisy gets up, goes to the front of the class, and says, "Everyone who thinks the SATs are bogus, the time for pizza is now."

Okay, Max. Here's where you stand up....

I think of my dad: "Hey, how was SAT prep?" "Uh, well..."

Then all of a sudden I hear this little, tiny voice: "I'll come." I look toward the voice, see...Jane? Jane Cotterell?

Daisy sees her too, smiles at me like,Insanity time...

And that's that. If Jane Cotterell's walking out, I certainly have to. I stand, say, "I'm up for pizza."

The rest of the kids stare down at their notebooks. I go stand with Daisy and Jane at the door. Daisy looks back at the class. "Last chance."

Then Leo says, "Screw it," and gets up.

And before anyone has a chance to do anything, Daisy yells, "Sayonara," and we run out the door.

Jane

This is wild.

I've never done anything like this. Just leave and slam the door, good-bye!

I've seen people do it. My mom used to do it all the time when she was fighting with my dad. I wanted to tell her, "Hi, Mom, this is not a movie, we're not your audience...."

Except this time we're the ones everyone's looking at. I guess they think we're crazy. I should feel embarrassed, but I don't. It's like,You're the fools.

When we get out to the hallway, and we see the SAT guy -- still looking for his stupid books -- and Daisy says, "Run for it," we get nuts running down the hall, charging down the stairs, and someone, I think Max, starts laughing because it's so nuts, and then we're all cracking up, even me, and I'm worried because I'm running so fast I'm going to fall down and break my neck, and we jump down the last few stairs, and Leo shoves open the door and waves us all through, and suddenly we're out on the street and we're free and...

And I think,Maybe we are crazy.But crazy's really good.

Then Leo says, "Okay, now what?"

Max and Daisy look at each other. If no one says anything, we'll all just walk away....

I say, "You could come to my house."

Leo

One of my basic rules in life: Never ever turn down a chance to meet a famous person. So when Jane asks us over, I immediately say, "Sure."

Daisy says, "Yeah, cool." She's so psyched she got us all to walk out she'll agree to anything: "Take a swim in the reservoir? Yeah, cool...."

Only Max looks doubtful. Probably thinking he's too dorky to meet Julia Cotterell. He's right -- but I'm not going to let that stand in my way.

Max

Frankly, I thought once we were out of there, Daisy and I would go and hang on our own. We don't know these guys. And when it comes to Leo, I seriously don't want to know him.

But somehow we're all going to Jane Cotterell's house. Not that Jane is so terrible. But I don't know her, and I have no idea what to say to her. I know she used to hang with Lily Previn, but they don't seem to be buds this year.

And of course, Jane's insanely gorgeous, and I can't speak to insanely gorgeous females. The most I can manage is, "Uh, duh..."

She really looks like her mom, with this cloud of black hair, huge gray eyes. Thin, perfect skin -- she's like from another planet where they build everyone perfect. Whereas I'm from a planet where they build everyone short and weird looking.

You don't want to be supremely uncool and say, "Hey, I saw your mom in the newspaper." But I don't know what else to talk to her about.

The only other thing I know about Jane is what everyone knows about her. And that you really can't talk about.

What people say about Jane is that her stepfather watches her naked. They also say she lets him.

I have to admit, sometimes I look at Jane and the thought of her naked and being watched is not the worst thing to think about.

Then I look at her face, the way she never really looks anyone in the eye, and I feel like if that's true, it's really ugly, and someone should do something.

Excerpted from Crunch Time by Mariah Fredericks
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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Crunch Time

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