Chapter 45: A BRO SHALT NOT TELL NON-BROS THE RULES OF THE BRO CODE.-1

Even though I'd promised Eliza I'd make it up to her soon, the AP practice tests were upon us and so was prepping for the end of season soccer games. Every spare second I had, I spent with my dad hovering over me, making sure I wouldn't injure myself before L-W. A week went by and things got even worse. Ms. Johnson was absent from teaching our PE class and the school's sub bailed at the last minute, meaning our thirty-person physical education squad got combined with Mr. Hoover's health and nutrition class. The good thing was that Austin was in that health class and he hadn't skipped today. The bad things were: A. Mr. Hoover. B. Mr. Hoover's eternal quest to punish me. C. Both Eliza and Josh Daley were in my gym class, and I had to somehow manage all of the aforementioned personalities without coming off as an A+ a-hole. "No way," Austin fist-bumped me as I dropped my backpack on the desk beside him. The desks were in clumps of four. Robert and Josh could sit with us too. "We've got all my faves," said Austin, "minus Carter. LOC will have to do." Whether or not Eliza heard his acronym for Little O'Connor, she didn't answer. "Ms. Johnson's class will be joining us today, settle down, phones away, we have a lot of material to get through," Mr. Hoover droned. I recognized a few others in the class, mostly from my soccer team. Eliza sat with her cool-nerd friends on the other side of the room. I had my back to her. Still desperate to say my piece, I hid my phone in a notebook and texted her. Talk after school? I had no idea if her phone was secretly out too, though I guessed not, because she was the extremely studious type. "Welcome to hell-th," said Austin. He passed around a pack of gum. At the front of the room, Mr. Hoover started his PowerPoint for the day. It projected nicely onto his pristine whiteboard. You're welcome. The first slide was titled The Importance of Sleep. It had a cartoon of a dude tucked into bed, counting sheep. This was going to be good. And by good, I mean horrible. "Guess he won't mind if we sleep through this," I whispered, "since it's so important." Josh snickered. Austin leaned across his desk. "Yo, I have to tell you something." Mr. Hoover remained completely oblivious to the fact that almost no one was paying attention to him. Josh and Robert hung off Austin's every word. With him, you never knew if he was going to say something like, "Your momma is so fat, when she went to space she became the ninth planet," or if he was going to spill some serious tea. "I hooked up with Madison yesterday." I blinked. Of all the things, that was the least surprising. "I should have asked where you guys stand," he said, "and I get I'm the worst. She came—" I shook my head, signaling for Austin to shut up. While I still could barely believe it, since Madison had said she was specifically interested in Carter, Madison and Austin did kind of make sense. "Are you asking me for my blessing?" Austin blew a big bubble with his gum. "Go for it," I said. "Just remember . . ." "Bros before hoes." Austin slid back in his chair. I'd been about to remind him that Madison was a psychopath who lived for juice, but that rule—the cardinal rule—worked too. "Bros before motherfucking hoes." Maybe it was the sudden swearing, or because we'd been pushing the envelope since his lecture started, but Mr. Hoover chose to start paying attention to us at that exact moment. "Mr. Maguire," he called me out. Because who else would he torture? "Would you care to share that statement with the class?" I glanced around. My bored classmates had been tuned out of his lecture for so long that this conversation didn't interest them in the slightest. "I said I want to go home." I made up. "That's not what I heard. What did you really say? Please share." "Jesus, why?" I asked. That got my classmate's attention. With more eyes on him than he'd ever had before, Mr. Hoover took full advantage of his opportunity to teach me whatever sadistic lesson was at the bottom of this. "It seems a bunch of you have woken up from your slumbers," said Mr. Hoover. "And that Mr. Maguire would rather discuss toxic masculinity than the five stages of sleep." The class groaned. Mr. Hoover took the yellow detention slips from his pocket, poised to rip me one. "Mr. Maguire, please repeat your statement for the class." "Bros before hoes," I said. "This is dumb," Austin muttered. "Does anyone wish to debate him?" Mr. Hoover asked. The class stayed quiet. No one was going to risk going against it in front of everyone. There was one person, however, who I did want to push back. Instead, she finally texted me. Guess I already know what you're going to say. She'd thought that comment was directed at her. Oh, no. I promise it's not that. Meet me after practice? "What makes masculinity toxic?" asked Mr. Hoover, changing lecture topics. "Is it that men are convinced they will never be able to understand women? That society thinks men and women can never be friends? The idea that wearing pink and going shopping are emasculating?" He paused, as if anyone were actually going to chime in. "Or is it the world's permission for boys to be boys, when they hit on girls, shove each other around, or refuse to discuss their emotions?" "Excuse me, I feel attacked," Austin called out. Chuckles rose around the room. "Why is that?" asked Mr. Hoover. "Because being born with a dick isn't something any of us can help." If people weren't paying attention before, they were now. "That's it," said Mr. Hoover, "the 'any of us,' language." "Now I really feel attacked." Mr. Hoover ignored him. "Let's break that down. Us. Implies us versus them. And with that comes a need for power and who to take it from."