nodded, waiting for me to say something more, something less jerky. But I had nothing. She stiffened, and her eyes went back to full cold. She took a step away.
âWait.â I found my voice. âOkay. If this assignment bothers you this much, maybe we can go to Mr. Williams this afternoon and, like, pick again or something.â
Julie shook her head. âNo, it was a long time ago. I think itâs time I finally did something.â She showed me that patented mocking grin. âIâm sure youâll agree.â
I lifted a shoulder. Who was I to judge how long it should take to heal from a trauma? âI mean it. Iâm sorry.â
Slowly, she nodded. âGood. Thanks. I was starting to think you were a bigger bully than Jeff andââ
My blood boiled over at her words. I slammed a palm against the locker next to her and stalked off, bowling through a trio of kids in my way.
Jesus, dude! Are you crazy? All you had to do was apologize, but you totally messed things up. You scared the hell out of her. Sheâll never talk to us again.
Good.
Who needs her.
Racking Up the Points
At lunch, Iâd spotted Brandon at his locker in the south corridor. I stopped at a water fountain, watching from under my lashes as he swapped books. He hunched down into himself like that cloaked him in invisibility or something. A chubby girl at the next locker edged away like he had an infectious disease. He gave no sign that he cared or even noticed until she slammed her locker and walked away. His eyes tracked her for a few seconds, and even from across the hall, I could see his pain.
Donât bother. It wonât help.
I donât know what youâre talking about, Kenny.
Oh, please. You canât lie to yourself, bro. Kenny tapped his temple.
I ignored him and followed Brandon down the hall, watching him sidestep the foot that tried to trip him and dodge the hand that tried to knock the books out of his arms. The corridor was a battlefield. No, it was a hunting ground, and Brandon was in season.
Dude, if you help him, you become him. Get it? Youâll be hated.
Hated.
I considered that. With a grandfather who wouldnât talk to me, a gang of childhood friends who abandoned me, it was pretty clear I already was hated. What was a few more names on such a long list?
Kenny made a sound of disgust. You are so slow. Come on, man, see the light! He threw his hands in the air. If they hate you, they will target you. They will look for the things that can trip you up. And theyâll find them. Jeff Dean is already sniffing.
My hands clenched into fists. Damn it! Why was this so hard? Anybody could see Brandon was suffering. Anybody who bothered to actually look, that is. Five years back, Iâd have been one of the people sticking out his foot as the kid passed me. A flush of repulsion passed over me, and my skin crawled. I wasnât proud of my past.
Itâs risky, man. Too risky for someone so into hiding his identity.
I shrugged. Yes, it was a risk, but I still had my new name. Making friends with one kid wasnât going to out me unless everybody found out I also have a record. I followed Brandon into the lunch line. I grabbed a tray, piled on two cellophane-wrapped sandwiches, a Snapple, and an apple, purposely jostled a kid with that letâs-get-Brandon gleam in his eye Iâd already come to recognize, and paid for my meal.
Brandon didnât notice me until I sat beside him at a table in the center of the room. Center tables were like the Titanic âs steerage section. Cool kids had their far corner tables already reserved. I felt their eyes on me as I screwed off the cap of my juice. âHey, Brandon. Mind if I join you?â
He peered at me through strands of greasy, colorless hair and shrugged. âItâs your reputation.â
âI donât have a reputation. I just got here.â
He bit the corner off a square slice of what masqueraded as