Freaks

27 • party planner

Logan and Markus groan simultaneously.

"Now we actually have to put effort into this," Logan tells his friend.

"See, Emma, guys aren't like this. This stuff isn't important to us," Markus says. "Me? I don't even remember Logan's birthday. And I've known him for years."

Logan frowns. "Really, dude? I remember yours."

I snort.

"Of course I — YES, PROPAGANDA COULD BE COUNTED AS AN EFFECTIVE HOME-FRONT STRATEGY IN FUNDING THE SECOND WORLD WAR."

Oh, that's right. We're supposed to be in History.

"YES. FOR EXAMPLE, THE NEWS REEL 'WHY WE FIGHT' COULD BE SAID TO HELP BOOST THE MORALE OF THE PUBLIC AND—" I could feel Graham's gaze burning into the back of my neck as I spoke.

Logan pretends to scribble down notes while Markus and I continue our melodramatic exchange.

Eventually, she seems convinced with our work ethic and she leaves again.

"Smooth." Logan looks up grinning from ear to ear. "You guys are bad liars. And even worse actors."

Markus scoffs, offended. "I'd say we're amazing at both."

"You realise the topic that we're supposed to be studying is censorship and the Espionage Act of 1917 – the role of propaganda was last week," Logan counters.

Markus swears. I face-palm. That's what I get for following Markus's lead.

"Maybe Graham didn't notice?" I suggest, too afraid to turn around.

"Nah, she's definitely sending us distrusting looks," Logan notes, staring forward. "But at least she hasn't made a comment about it?"

"Yeah." I nod. "Maybe we should get back to work now," I add, pulling out my weighty World History textbook onto our group table (which consisted of 4 smaller tables pushed together).

"In a bit," Logan replies quickly, reaching for his tablet and placing it atop my textbook. "First, I need to know what to get Willow. Maybe if I order it by tomorrow, it'll arrive in time."

"I don't understand, you guys've known Willow for longer than I have. It shouldn't be that diffi—wait a minute," my eyebrows furrow as I see what site Logan is on, "are you ordering that online?"

"Yeah?" Logan replies matter-of-factly. "What about this one?" He tilts the screen towards me and Markus.

"Maybe," I respond, eyeing the object. "But, how? We aren't allowed to give away the address of the school, are we?"

"No. But the school owns a warehouse onshore where we can get all our packages sent to. Then they're shipped over here, by school-owned planes or ferries," Logan explains.

"Really?" My eyes widen. All this time, I've been getting Aunt Vic to mail stuff over here, I never really asked how she did it...

"Really, Emma," Markus chides, "how's it possible you've been living here for over 6 months and not know that? Next thing you'll be saying you don't know the Rec Room has a function room."