At a Catholic high school, the popular girl teams up with a sophomore newspaper reporter to investigate a case of stolen SAT exams. Once the duo target their suspects, a larger conspiracy is unearthed.

[first lines]
Bobby Funke: [narrating] You want to know the truth about high school? You've got to break it down into its elements. Unfortunately, at St. Donovan's, the periodic table is more crooked than a case of scoliosis. Just give me the chance and I'll set it all straight. Case in point, Spanish homework. "Dame un batido de esperma" does not mean, "Take me to the airport." It means, "Give me a sperm milkshake." And 22 kids gave that as an answer in Spanish 3 last week. I'm not sure about the milkshake, but somebody is sure feeding us something sticky. Every clique on campus is copying the same damn homework. Burn-outs, pretty boys, drama-dorks, jocks, debaters, player-haters, you name it. Oh, it's big, all right. And I'm on it like pink rubber bands on your little sister's braces. The name's Bobby Funke. I write for the paper.
Francesca Fachini: Nobody's misunderstood. That's just what people say when they don't like who they are.
Padre Newell: [Padre Newell foaming himself while singing in the communal showers. Bobby Funke turns to look at him. Padre sings to Bobby] Buenos diaz senor Funke.
Sam Landis: Let me guess. You finally want to start that boy band you've been dreaming about.
Principal Jared T. Kirkpatrick: Landis, do I come down to the strip club where you work and knock the dick out of your mouth? Against the wall. You're late.
Bobby Funke: [Narrating] Their alibis were like dutch ovens - gamy, but air tight.
Tad Goltz: He didn't give you a whole lot? How could he not give you a whole lot? Look at the guy, people love him. He's fucking JFK, he's smart, he's charismatic, he's good looking, he's a tenacious athlete.
Bobby Funke: I am sorry, Tad. I didn't realize you felt that way about him. Sad.
Bobby Funke: Look Clara... I am the best writer you got.
Clara: Bobby, you've never finished an article.
Bobby Funke: [sternly] Well, are you going to give me this one, or not?
Clara: ...No.
[awkward pause]
Bobby Funke: Do you want to come to Homecoming with me, then?
Clara: [smiles] ... No.
Bobby Funke: [narrating] Clara was one tough cookie. All I wanted was a taste.
[Funke sighs and walks away]
[last lines]
Clara: Forget it, Funke. It's high school.
High School Student: Wait, aren't you the freshman they tied to the snowman penis?
Bobby Funke: Sophomore!

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