“C’mon . . . we can’t give up yet!” he roared. “Hey . . . how about you two girls? Will you sign our petition?” He thrust a clipboard at Nancy and George.

Nancy glanced at the letter it held. There were only half a dozen signatures on it. “Uh . . . I don’t know. What does it say?”

“It demands that the trustees assign less money to the Physical Education department in next year’s budget.”

George bristled. “Why should they do that? Physical education is important!”

“Sure, but not more important than academics. Yet each year the P.E. department gets more money than any other. It’s not fair.”

“Yes it is,” George countered. “Sports programs are expensive.”

The boy’s face darkened. “Oh, I get it—you’re a jock. You care more about the locker room than about the classroom.”

“And you’d rather grind than unwind!” George shot back. “Tell me something—what makes you think you know what’s best for this school?”

“Well, for one thing I’m president of the student council. Tom Stafford’s the name, in case you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t. But I still say sports are important.”

“Typical,” Tom said, turning away in disgust. “You jocks are all alike—all brawn, no brains.”

Now Nancy was angry, too. She believed strongly in free speech, but the student leader’s last remark was too much.

“That’s not fair. I know plenty of athletes who are also excellent students,” she said.

Tom pivoted. “Sure. Name one!”

“My boyfriend, Ned Nickerson.”

The change that came over Tom at the mention of Ned’s name was striking. Suddenly his eyes narrowed. His voice grew cold. “You go out with the Big Nick, huh? Well, congratulations. I hope you’re enjoying your share of the school’s money.”