“Listen up, you bastards,” the probation officer said as he kicked the door of his shabby car close, his eyes darting down at them like a hawk’s. “I don’t care who your parents are and neither do I care who you are. I’m only here because the state is paying me to. So, if you’re gonna be an asshole” — he pointed at André — “I’m talking to you, fuckboy … you’d better make sure you can run well, because I ain’t here to babysit you.”
André just rolled his eyes. He’s got enough PEP talk to last him a year already. God, he’s even worse than Coach Sullivan.
“There’s a marathon downtown today. It’s for a charity or something. All of you are gonna hand water there and clean up after the event. I don’t really care what you do ‘cause I’ll only be there for the food, but ah … you’d better not be you
