Everybody in the small Clarksville school knew it was Casey’s thirteenth birthday. Mrs. Washington, the principal, announced it on the PA system first thing that morning, as she did for all kids’ birthdays. Then his classroom teacher, Ms. Oates, had the class sing the usual song. They even did the “Stand up and show us your pretty face!” part. Though Casey thought it babyish, he went along, grinning. Even so, what he wanted to say was, I’m not a kid anymore. I’m a teenage hunter.
Casey’s favorite class was geometry. For him the charts and graphs were really mapmaking, and he loved it. As he worked out problems and measured lines, he imagined he was finding his way through the forest, on the trail, deeper into the game.