Entwives

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It all started during the next-to-last recess, when Fedka Proshin said, “Yo, dudes, after school don’t leave. Meet me at the monkey bars. Got something for ya.”

Fedka never just shot off his mouth for nothing, so all through fifth and sixth period we were all, like, on pins and needles, wondering what it was he’d gotten wind of that it couldn’t wait, that we just had to get together after school on Monday and not Friday, as usual. No matter how much we poked Fedka, how much we pleaded with him to at least drop us a hint what the deal was, he wouldn’t crack. It was pretty obvious another rumble was brewing between us and B class — lately they’d been getting uppity.

But it all turned out way more interesting than that.

After school, we went out on to the playground, crossed the sports field and squatted down by the parallel bars. Fedka looked around to make sure we were alone, then said in a low voice, “Trefilov’s a fag.”

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