better being invisible. He doesn’t like anyone feeling sorry for him. He doesn’t like thinking he’s someone who needs it.
Cameron takes the paper. He’s going to tell her he doesn’t have a pencil, that he’ll have to do the work in permanent marker, when the seat beside him fills up with a new body.
“Look, I just have one thing to say so you better listen.” It’s Steve. His voice is low and about as friendly as the roar of a caged lion. Cameron feels his heart rate pick up. His whole body kicks into overdrive. “Patterson is pissed. He’s talked to all of us — the football team. You are so dead. Your friend, too. Don’t stay after school. If I were you I’d leave now. Try to make it home before he picks up your scent.”
That’s it. End of message.
Steve gets up and strolls over to the pencil sharpener. Cameron stares at his back, the bright red of his jock jacket, seeing the darkened splotch he saw that morning on Patterson. Seeing it and wishing he could do something about it. Put a silver bullet into the heart of it.
“You okay?”
The girl again.
“You’re really pale. Mrs. Marino will probably believe you’re sick,” she offers.
“I’m not sick,” Cameron says. And he’s not going to run. Not without finding SciFi first. Even he doesn’t stand a chance against the entire football team.
Cameron looks at the girl next to him. Really looks at her, so long she shifts in her seat and then shrugs her shoulders and looks down at her work. Too bad the only reason she’s talking to him is because she thinks he needs help.
“Pretend.” The advice comes from the only other guy in the group. One of those chess club geeks. Like SciFi. So maybe the guy’s not so bad. “Patterson’s a dick,” he says. “But he’s got the whole pack with him. There’s no fighting that.”
Cameron lets that sink in. The whole football team. They’ll tear him apart. SciFi, too. Anger makes Cameron’s temperature soar. He feels like he’s on fire, without the good stuff. No physical pain, no place for the anger to bleed out of him. He wishes he could strike a match, breathe in the sulphur, let it burn his nose and throat.
Poor SciFi. The guy won’t know what hit him.
Everything I touch turns to shit, Cameron thinks. Everything.
“You know Elliott?” Cameron asks.
“Elliott Mercer?” Computer Geek asks.
Cameron doesn’t know SciFi’s last name. He shrugs. “Big dude?”
“Yeah.”
“You going to see him after school?”
“No. Club is Thursdays,” he says. “Elliott is at the elementary school, playing with the band.”
“He’s off campus?”
“They left last period.”
So he’s safe. Cameron will look for SciFi first thing in the morning and warn him.
That’s all he can do.
TUESDAY
4:30PM
Cameron makes it home without breaking a sweat. In the last minutes of Spanish class he decided he wasn’t going to run. He wasn’t going to hide. He waited until the whole class was moving toward the door, then he got up, told Mrs. Marino he couldn’t stay after all, and walked out. He heard her calling after him but kept moving. The halls were crammed with students. Cameron walked the long way to his locker, stuffed his notebook into the small space left, and took his history book. He didn’t think he’d get to the questions Hart assigned, but just in case.
All the way home, Cameron thought about Patterson and how this one guy has ruined his life. He looked inside himself for the fire that usually came with thoughts of Patterson, but all he felt was a cold so intense his fingers were numb. His toes, too. Sometimes when he touches fire the same thing happens; he can’t feel his fingers or his toes. And he thought about how two different conditions can result in the same thing. How fire and ice can both burn.
His mom is already home, in the kitchen, drinking coffee. Cameron watches her through the window. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail; she probably ran the lake path,
Cameron takes the paper. He’s going to tell her he doesn’t have a pencil, that he’ll have to do the work in permanent marker, when the seat beside him fills up with a new body.
“Look, I just have one thing to say so you better listen.” It’s Steve. His voice is low and about as friendly as the roar of a caged lion. Cameron feels his heart rate pick up. His whole body kicks into overdrive. “Patterson is pissed. He’s talked to all of us — the football team. You are so dead. Your friend, too. Don’t stay after school. If I were you I’d leave now. Try to make it home before he picks up your scent.”
That’s it. End of message.
Steve gets up and strolls over to the pencil sharpener. Cameron stares at his back, the bright red of his jock jacket, seeing the darkened splotch he saw that morning on Patterson. Seeing it and wishing he could do something about it. Put a silver bullet into the heart of it.
“You okay?”
The girl again.
“You’re really pale. Mrs. Marino will probably believe you’re sick,” she offers.
“I’m not sick,” Cameron says. And he’s not going to run. Not without finding SciFi first. Even he doesn’t stand a chance against the entire football team.
Cameron looks at the girl next to him. Really looks at her, so long she shifts in her seat and then shrugs her shoulders and looks down at her work. Too bad the only reason she’s talking to him is because she thinks he needs help.
“Pretend.” The advice comes from the only other guy in the group. One of those chess club geeks. Like SciFi. So maybe the guy’s not so bad. “Patterson’s a dick,” he says. “But he’s got the whole pack with him. There’s no fighting that.”
Cameron lets that sink in. The whole football team. They’ll tear him apart. SciFi, too. Anger makes Cameron’s temperature soar. He feels like he’s on fire, without the good stuff. No physical pain, no place for the anger to bleed out of him. He wishes he could strike a match, breathe in the sulphur, let it burn his nose and throat.
Poor SciFi. The guy won’t know what hit him.
Everything I touch turns to shit, Cameron thinks. Everything.
“You know Elliott?” Cameron asks.
“Elliott Mercer?” Computer Geek asks.
Cameron doesn’t know SciFi’s last name. He shrugs. “Big dude?”
“Yeah.”
“You going to see him after school?”
“No. Club is Thursdays,” he says. “Elliott is at the elementary school, playing with the band.”
“He’s off campus?”
“They left last period.”
So he’s safe. Cameron will look for SciFi first thing in the morning and warn him.
That’s all he can do.
TUESDAY
4:30PM
Cameron makes it home without breaking a sweat. In the last minutes of Spanish class he decided he wasn’t going to run. He wasn’t going to hide. He waited until the whole class was moving toward the door, then he got up, told Mrs. Marino he couldn’t stay after all, and walked out. He heard her calling after him but kept moving. The halls were crammed with students. Cameron walked the long way to his locker, stuffed his notebook into the small space left, and took his history book. He didn’t think he’d get to the questions Hart assigned, but just in case.
All the way home, Cameron thought about Patterson and how this one guy has ruined his life. He looked inside himself for the fire that usually came with thoughts of Patterson, but all he felt was a cold so intense his fingers were numb. His toes, too. Sometimes when he touches fire the same thing happens; he can’t feel his fingers or his toes. And he thought about how two different conditions can result in the same thing. How fire and ice can both burn.
His mom is already home, in the kitchen, drinking coffee. Cameron watches her through the window. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail; she probably ran the lake path,
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