Gold Dust by Chris Lynch Read Free Book Online

unnecessary to me. I knew all I needed to know about everybody. And everybody knew all they needed to know about me. That was the joy of never going anywhere, never meeting anyone. Unfortunately, I supposed, Napoleon had to be allowed a little catching up. But just a little.
    “I am only here with my father,” he said. “My mother stayed in Dominica with my older brother, Neville. He is going to graduate this term, and so they decided to stay until the end of the school year. My father had to start his job this term, so it was decided we would come now, together, and I would begin getting settled in school, meeting people. ...”
    I looked at him. I pointed at myself. “Me. You needed to get a jump on meeting me?”
    “Yes,” he said, fighting a little smile. He usually didn’t have to fight all that hard, as smiles didn’t often attack Napoleon. Not since he’d been in Boston at least.
    “So then, what, did you just wake up this morning with the urge to tell me about your family?”
    “No,” he said. Thought about it. “Yes,” he said. Then, “No.”
    “Hey Napoleon, you want me to leave while you settle this amongst yourselves?”
    “No,” he said, closing his eyes, getting himself together. He didn’t have long. We were almost at school.
    “It’s my father... he worries... that I might not be, meeting people. Might not be, acclimating, settling in. That I’m not getting along socially.”
    “I see,” I said. “Um, well he’s right, isn’t he?”
    “I know he is right,” he snapped.
    We were at the school doors. I got there first, held the door for Napoleon. I spoke as he walked past me. “And so instead of getting to know a lot of people a little bit, you’re going to try and get to know one person a lot? I don’t think it works like—”
    “So then tell me about your family.”
    Oh, no. This was really not my idea of chat. No batter, no batter. Humm, baby. I got it, I got it. That’s my idea of a personal statement.
    “Relax, will you?” I said, stalling. “Your dad’s not gonna quiz you tonight, is he?”
    “I cannot relax. There is no time. Are you my friend?”
    I did not think I had ever been asked that by anybody. If pressed, I would have said that I didn’t think anybody, anywhere had ever been asked that question. Not for real, anyhow. Not unless it was a joke. Why would anybody have to ask a question like that? You would just sort of know, wouldn’t you? If a person feels like a friend, that’s a friend, and you find yourself hanging out together, so you just do it and don’t ask questions. And if a person doesn’t feel like a friend then you would kind of know that too and you wouldn’t be spending time with them and so the business of asking wouldn’t be likely to come up anyhow. And if you weren’t sure?
    If you weren’t sure, I would figure the question would be too embarrassing to ask.
    Napoleon Charlie Ellis stared at me.
    The bell started clanging away.
    “We have to get inside,” I said.
    He continued with the staring thing. Staring me down with that expression that seemed to have loads of questions and demands in it. Working me with eyes that could peel layers off you like acid, until you gave up, answered him, confessed.
    “Ya, I’m your friend. All right? Can we go inside?”
    “Good,” he said, brushing past all businesslike, like he didn’t care all that much anyway. Which, I didn’t know a lot, but I knew that was a lie. “Good,” he repeated, “because I told my father you were.”
    I followed him in. So? was what I was thinking. Was this really that big a deal?
    I didn’t ask him out loud, though. I was afraid he would answer.
    “We have a special surprise for you this morning,” Sister Jacqueline said. “A speaker.”
    We don’t all speak with one voice often in Sister Jacqueline’s class, but she can always bring us together with the simple mention of the word “speaker.” I think it’s middle C we all groan in.
    “I think we