Jimmy was gone when I climbed down from my bed the next morning. Part of me wondered if he had on My Little Pony underwear this time. The thought made me smile—a rare feat since I needed at least four more snoozes—as I went behind the screen and got dressed. I planned on wearing shorts, but the sky was roiling, so I threw on jeans and a t-shirt.
Cassie stood at the sink and, rather than fighting over it to fix my hair, I asked, “Hey, are we allowed to wear hats to class?”
“No,” she said, tugging at something in her hair.
“Are you OK?”
“I fell asleep chewing gum again.”
She whimpered, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“It relaxes me,” she insisted.
“Be careful not to choke.”
Hearing that, she looked at me, grateful. I was a bit confused; it’s not like that was new information or anything.
Focusing back on the mirror, she stuck a finger through a loop in her hair and pulled. Nothing happened, and she squealed in pain. I walked to the desk and pulled out a drawer. It was loaded with supplies. I grabbed a pair of scissors and helped her cut away the gum without ruining her hair too badly.
“Thanks,” she said.
“No problem. Where’s Jimmy?”
She looked over at the bed, curious.
“I’m not sure. He was gone when I got up. I never saw him yesterday.”
“Me either.”
“Weird,” she said.
“Not really. I didn’t see lots of people yesterday.”
“I guess.” She didn’t say anything else.
I reached in front of her and filled my cupped hands with water. I think I dropped more on the floor than in my hair. Grabbing a towel, I dried off, then wiped up the mess. At home, I wouldn’t have cleaned up, but I didn’t want them thinking I was a disgusting pig.
The sky threatened to unleash as I made my way to the classroom center. I wasn’t sure if the camp was in tornado alley, but I stared at the clouds. They didn’t look too threatening. The wind sure was blowing, though. A small group of girls laughed, letting the gusts push them toward class.
When I made it to algebra and sat at my left-handed desk, I realized I was one of the first people in the room. It actually upset me; I could have snoozed a couple more times. Yes, a few extra minutes of sleep was that big a deal. Yawning, I laid my head on the desk.
“Hey Blaize!”
I jerked my head up, hoping a puddle of drool wasn’t hanging from my chin. Jimmy was standing right in front of me. He was so close, his hips pressed against my desk.
Awkward.
“Oh, hey Jimmy,” I said, trying to be nice.
“Anyone sitting here?” He gestured to the empty desk next to me.
No, I thought, no one’s sitting in the empty desk. All I said was, “It’s all yours.”
He grinned and plopped down next to me so hard, his chair squealed across the floor a few inches. An older girl near the front of the room pointed and whispered something to a big-nosed guy next to her. They looked at us and laughed. What was that about?
I quickly realized the answer: no one liked Jimmy.
First, he ignored the fact I was sleeping, and started babbling. Second, it wasn’t like normal conversation. He was a machine gun, firing off questions and answering them before I could say anything. For example, this is how the next minute went:
“I’m so glad you’re in this class. I mean, I know plenty of people and have tons of friends but since you’re new and we’re roomies, I can show you the ropes. I don’t mean to brag but I know every nook and cranny of this school. I could probably draw a map more accurate than the one they hand out. In fact, I have a few attempts in my bag. I’ll have to show them to you sometime. I had a really weird dream last night. Someone was singing to me and I tried covering my ears but it didn’t help. Have you ever had a dream like that? I think I get it from my dad. He always had weird dreams.”
I wished I had told him the seat was taken.
It’s not that Jimmy was mean or anything. He was just weird, what with the lying and the rambling and the fish underwear. And I very much doubted he had tons of friends; students who came in sat miles away after seeing him. One girl even gave me a sorrowful look.
Finally, Jimmy stopped talking and smiled at me like I’d said something really witty. I looked around to see if I was missing something. I wasn’t; he was genuinely happy just sitting next to me. It made me feel bad—despite my lack of enthusiasm, he was thrilled—so I decided to play along.
“Cool. So you’re in this class?”
“Yep.”
I thought back to roll call yesterday and didn’t remember hearing his name. Of course, I was too busy staring at Luke and Darrin to remember everything Ms. Meeks said.
“Where were you yesterday?” I asked.
Jimmy’s eyes got big and he clamped his mouth shut. The act was overly exaggerated. I think the effect was meant to say, Oh it was something really important. I wondered if the imaginary event involved his dad. Before I could ask, he deflated and said, “I wasn’t feeling very well.”
“Is that why you were asleep so early?”
“Sure.”
I squinted at Jimmy, noticing something. His voice got higher when he told a lie. The “sure” was almost screechy. As was the comment about having lots of friends. I smiled to myself, feeling like a human lie detector, and muttered, “Sorry,” just as Luke and Darrin walked in.
I realized that everyone stared at them wherever they went. They seemed to realize it, too, and walked to their desks like the linoleum floor was a catwalk. I peeked over at Jimmy. He gaped as if they were celebrities. A girl next to us snickered and I nudged Jimmy. He turned to me and I made a motion of closing my mouth. He flushed and clacked his teeth together.
“We’re pretty close is all,” he screeched, gesturing to Luke and Darrin.
“Oh,” I said.
When they were seated, Luke turned and caught my eye. He grinned at me and I grimaced, as if to say, Here goes another day of math. He smiled and pushed his arms up like he was bench pressing then pointed at me. I gave him a thumbs up; I’d be there tonight. He nodded at me. I realized the class was looking and I felt so cool for a minute.
Luke cocked his head and looked next to me. I glanced over and saw Jimmy smiling. To my horror, he gestured to himself and said, “Me?” Oh no, I thought. He thought Luke was talking to him.
Luke covered his mouth and grabbed Darrin. They both turned and stared at Jimmy. Darrin stuck out a hand and gave him a thumbs down. Jimmy pretended to laugh and looked past them, as if he were talking to someone else. Luke and Darrin broke into hysterics. I heard the word, “Loser,” and my face heated up. Memories of middle school flooded back to me. I pictured Ryan Kirkpatrick grabbing the new calculator from my desk and ripping off the buttons.
It hurt to see Luke and Darrin mess with Jimmy. Still, I was torn. People in Pamata were mean to me, but I felt I was a normal kid who didn’t deserve it. Jimmy was weird. Harmless and perfectly nice, but weird.
The situation got infinitely worse when Darrin pointed first to me then at the desk to his right.
I froze. They wanted me to sit next to them! I admit I wanted to so bad. My heart actually began pounding like I was about to meet Jimmy Fallon. Who am I hurting? I rationalized to myself. I’m just switching desks.
I shifted in my seat, preparing to grab my stuff, when I heard a small whimper next to me. Jimmy hunched forward, his frown as big as a cartoon character’s. He tried covering it up and doodled on a piece of paper. But I saw it all over his face; he didn’t want me to leave.
Dammit. Why couldn’t he have been gone today? I didn’t even like him that much. Hell, I barely knew him. If he didn’t like me moving, that was his problem, right? And it wasn’t even that big a deal; just one stupid class.
“Go ahead,” Jimmy whispered.
The words were genuine and encouraging, but his voice dropped a sad octave. He began humming to himself, attempting to remain upbeat. My stomach sank to my knees; he was trying to help me. The inner conflict returned at full volume. Jimmy may have been a weirdo, but he was about the nicest person I’d met. He reminded me of a puppy.
I couldn’t do it.
Mind racing, I tried to think of a good excuse. Of course! Looking as cool as I could, I looked at Darrin then pointed down to my desk.
“It’s the only left-handed one.” I then picked up a pencil and wrote with my left hand in the air.
Darrin wasn’t going to beg. He shrugged, laughed, and turned around. I sank lower in my chair. I could practically hear Jimmy grinning next to me. It didn’t help.
After Ms. Meeks walked in and checked roll, I tried to settle into learning. It didn’t sound fun, but between ignoring Jimmy (who constantly showed me the doodles on his paper—pandas with Dalmatian spots and things like that) and pretending I was thrilled with my left-handed seat, focusing on algebra was my distraction. How sad.
Halfway through class, Luke turned around and handed a folded piece of paper to the kid behind him. He turned back and gave it to Jimmy. Jimmy’s face grew pale and I felt that gnawing in my stomach again. Hesitant, I looked at the paper, which read, “Orphan Jimmy: Volume 82.”
Jimmy inched the paper open. It contained a drawing of a building that read, Orphanage. A picture of Jimmy stood in front. He had one of those thought bubbles over his head. A huge man with tons of muscles—and standing on a pile of skulls—burst from the bubble. The words, Jimmy’s Dad, pointed at the man.
Wringing my hands together, I focused on Jimmy. His eyes sagged, but he forced a smile. The guys next to Luke began giggling. Jimmy grinned and whispered, “Good one.” He caught me looking, hastily folded the paper, and shoved it into his bag.
I wanted to put my head on the desk and disappear. Was this an innocent joke? Maybe Luke and Darrin were just messing with him. No, that was stupid; Jimmy was clearly hurt. I started thinking Roze was right—those guys were jerks. But it didn’t make sense. How could kids here be mean to each other? The thought really messed with me, as I’d put all the students at Sanctuary Prep on a pedestal. Staring at the back of Luke’s head, I realized I was probably being oblivious again.
After leaving gym that afternoon (I finished third on the obstacle course this time, staying past the allotted time trying, pathetically, to do pull-ups), I decided to talk to Roze. After Luke and Darrin’s group passed by, garnering an eye roll from Roze, I blurted, “Why did you think they were fake?”
“You can just tell,” Roze replied.
“But how?”
She thought for a second, a buried anger rising in her eyes. She quickly covered it up and said, “They’re all the same.”
“Who, the jocks like that?”
“Yeah.”
That was all she said before blurting, “You know I did seven pull-ups, right?”
She was trying to change the subject. I wanted to keep at it, but her tactic was something I would have done. Thinking of Jimmy, babbling away, completely unaware, I decided it was best to just play along. Mimicking her arm punch, I said, “You know I spent longer than forty-five seconds there and still beat you, right?”
As the day progressed, my mood got better. For the second day in a row, I wasn’t assigned any real homework (I got my first novel to read in English, but the test wasn’t for weeks, so I had plenty of time). I also made Cassie laugh in history, which made me feel like a professional comedian.
Shortly after class began, Mr. Pryor went around the room, having us name the presidents in order. I wished I was first, but ended up eighth, and I sure as heck didn’t know the eighth president. When it was my turn, I didn’t know what to do and blurted, “Spaghetti Von Meatballs.” It was stupid, but Cassie burst into a giggle she quickly covered with a hand. The teacher wasn’t amused, and asked if Cassie would “care to grace everyone with the answer.” She stopped laughing and studiously answered, “Martin Van Buren.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper. I rolled my eyes; of course she’d know the answer. It didn’t really bother me, though. I liked her giggle. It was like a baby meerkat on YouTube.
That evening at dinner she tried convincing me my response wasn’t that bad.
“I think, subconsciously, you knew the answer,” she said, between small bites of “Curative Casserole.”
“How do you mean?”
“You said Spaghetti Von Meatballs. Von. Think about it. Martin Van Buren. It’s the same middle name.”
I laughed. “Wow, you’re reaching.”
“I’ll say,” Roze said, shoving a bite of “Check Yourself Chicken Fried Steak” into her mouth.
I ignored her and said, “But thanks.”
Cassie smiled, pleased by my tiny compliment. I shook my head and blurted, “Are people not nice to you at home?”
Cassie lowered her head and said, “I’m adopted.”
“So?” I said. “I have an adopted cousin and his family is nice.”
Roze punched me, hard this time.
“Ow! What was that for?” I reached over and, in retaliation, stuck my finger in her mashed potatoes. She gaped at me as a huge guffaw erupted behind us. I turned to see Jimmy grinning down at me. He pointed at Roze’s potatoes and laughed again, like I’d just done the funniest thing ever (OK it was pretty awesome).
“Mind if I join you?”
Cassie smiled at him. “Sure.”
He squeezed in between me and Roze. Let me rephrase that, he literally pushed us apart so he could sit down next to me.
“Hey!” Roze said.
I was thrilled to have a barrier; there was no telling what she was about to do for my finger in the potatoes.
After he was seated, Roze stuck out a hand. “Hi, I’m Roze. You must be Jimmy. I’ve heard a lot about you.” The way she said it suggested she wasn’t surprised at his forcing himself between us.
Jimmy grinned. “Really?”
“Yeah, Cassie’s mentioned you.”
“Cool.”
That was all Jimmy said before digging into his tray, which was packed with food: a hamburger, two hot dogs, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, and cobbler. I half expected him to ignore silverware and stick his face right in the mess. But he ate extremely carefully. He even used a knife and fork to eat the hot dog. Jimmy caught me staring and said, “It helps me eat slower.”
“Oh,” I said.
“So what were y’all talking about?” Jimmy asked.
I looked at Cassie, not sure if she wanted to continue. She wiped her mouth, put her hands in her lap and said, “My adoptive parents expect a lot from me. I never meet their expectations.”
“My dad was really awesome about that stuff,” Jimmy said.
Here he goes, I thought. But Roze held up her hand. “We were talking to Cassie. As soon as we’re done, I’d love to hear about your dad.”
I held my breath and stared at Jimmy. He looked stunned for a moment when something seemed to click in his brain, like he realized what he was doing. He grinned sheepishly, and didn’t look angry at all. “Sure.” Then he said, “I bet being gay didn’t help.”
That was a perfectly normal statement. I looked at Roze, who nodded her approval.
“No, not at all.” Cassie replied. “It was like I failed them. Again.”
“Ugh,” I said. I couldn’t imagine her failing at anything.
“I have to call them at least once a week with progress reports.” Then she gave the hint of a smile. “Don’t be surprised if they’ll want you to join as a witness, Blaize.”
“Are you serious?” I asked.
“Maybe.”
I shook my head. “No way! I’d rather deal with Jimmy’s jumping spiders.”
Jimmy guffawed again, snorting mashed potatoes across the table. We all froze and looked at him. Roze said, “Yuck,” and I was about to agree, when I noticed she wasn’t talking about the potatoes. Instead, she watched the double-doors leading into the cafeteria, where Luke, Darrin, and their group walked in.
I didn’t think anything of it until I realized they were heading straight to our table. Tons of people observed and, feeling my whole body tense, I threw down my fork; the last thing I needed was to dump a “Mending Meatball” in my lap.
A stupid grin sprouted on my face like fungus. It was promptly squashed when Luke grabbed a roll from someone’s plate. “Thank you,” he said before taking a bite. Roze cursed under her breath. I held my own, thinking of the Orphan Jimmy comic.
When they reached us, Darrin stuck out a fist and I touched it with mine. My thoughts went back to Justin fist bumping Timothy at the funeral. Is that how douchey I look?
“Blaize, you coming to work out?”
The air became heavy. Roze gave me a look so intense, it burned my face. Going with them felt wrong. Of my tiny group of sort-of friends, one already hated them, and the other was being picked on. On the other hand, what was wrong with working out? It was important to stay in shape. And spending just a few hours with people wouldn’t make me behave like them.
Those were the lame excuses I made to myself as I nodded like a bobble-head doll. “Yeah. I just need to finish eating.”
“Meet us there, then.”
“OK.”
When they sauntered out (pausing to set the half-eaten roll back on the kid’s plate), I realized I was still nodding like an idiot. Roze reached around Jimmy’s hefty frame and slapped the back of my head.
“Really?” she said.
“What? It’s just a workout.”
“No it’s not. First you work out, then you sit with them. Next thing you know, you’ll be stealing food from peoples’ plates.”
“I will not,” I said. But I wasn’t sure I believed myself as I realized how badly I wanted to fit in.
“I think you should go,” Jimmy said.
“No you don’t,” snapped Roze. Jimmy flinched and became very interested in the remains of his hamburger. I glared over him at Roze.
“What is your problem?”
Roze glared right back. “I just know their type, OK.”
I was steaming. She had been saying that since we met them, but never followed it up with anything substantial. Part of me—worried she might say something to change my mind—didn’t want to hear any more. However, caught up in the moment, I said, “Well then, why don’t you enlighten me.”
She stopped and looked from Cassie to me. Then she grabbed her tray, threw it into the trash, and stomped out of the building. I stared after her, jaw clenched. I liked Roze, but I didn’t think I’d said enough to warrant her reaction.
“She was one of them, you know.” It was Cassie.
Releasing a tense breath, I turned back to her. “One of what?”
She gestured at the door. “One of them. Like Luke and Darrin.”
That made total sense. “What happened?”
“When she came out, they abandoned her.”
“Because she was gay?”
She shrugged but didn’t add anything else.
“Cassie.”
“If you want more, you’ll have to talk to her.”
I threw my hands up. “Geez.”
We stewed in silence for a few minutes, when I noticed Cassie studying me.
“Is there anything else?” I said.
Nodding absently, she said, “They didn’t wait for you.”
“Huh?”
She pulled herself from her thoughts and said, “Luke and Darrin didn’t wait for you to finish eating. They left without you.”
“So?”
“It just seemed intentional to me. Like they were too good to wait.”
“Whatever.”
She was probably right, but I didn’t want to hear any more. Almost knocking Jimmy off his seat, I got up, threw my own stuff away, and left.
As I plodded through the muggy, oppressive air toward the gym, I tried to figure out why I felt so out-of-sorts. What happened in the cafeteria really wasn’t that big a deal. Friends disagreed with each other. It’s not like I thought my friendship with Roze was over. Don’t get me wrong: I didn’t look forward to talking to her. But it wasn’t a huge deal.
As I stepped up onto the grass leading to the gym, I asked myself if I’d want to be friends with the bullies back in Pamata. No way, I told myself. Then I asked myself, Is that really true? Would I have turned them away if they’d approached me like Luke and Darrin? I honestly didn’t know the answer.
Just then, I heard voices coming from the gym. Tiptoeing, I walked to the entrance and peeked in. Luke, Darrin, and about eight other students were doing push-ups. Every single one of them was well built and well dressed. They pumped out push-ups like machines designed to . . . well . . . pump out push-ups. For some reason, watching them move in perfect rhythm with each other made my stomach hurt.
After a minute, I tried walking in, but couldn’t. It was like my mind and body had separated and declared war on each other. A few minutes later, I tried again but, still, nothing happened. This is your chance, I yelled at myself, over and over. No matter what I said, my muscles wouldn’t comply, and I remained frozen.
Desperate for any movement, I began walking around the gym. Occasionally, I’d hear laughter or grunts or yelling. Every time, part of me wanted to turn and run in the gym, screaming, “I’m here! Accept me!” But I didn’t, and kept walking in giant circles.
After an agonizing half hour, I trudged to the exercise field, angry and frustrated. The obstacle course was still there, so I went to the pull-up bar and grabbed on. I let myself hang for a few seconds before hauling myself up.
“One.”
Using all the pent-up emotion, I actually cranked out four more before tiring out and dropping to the ground. Allowing myself a few deep breaths, I jumped up again and did three more, grunting from the exertion.
I stayed at the bar for an hour, trying every few minutes to pull myself up. My arms trembled from fatigue, but I forced myself up again and again. I began yelling at myself, partly from frustration at being so puny, partly from anger at not joining Luke and Darrin, and partly from disappointment that I’d considered it. The effort was exhausting and my shirt was drenched when I finally gave up and collapsed.
“Time to call it a night, Trales.”
I yelped, flew up—preparing to run—and looked behind me. Adkins was standing there. Where had he come from? He was like a hairy ninja.
“You scared me to death.” I said, rubbing my chest.
“That wasn’t my intent.”
I wasn’t sure if that was an apology or not, so I said, “OK.”
“How many did you do?”
“Fifteen or so.”
“Better.”
“Not really. I’ve been out here a long time.”
“I know.”
I squinted at him. How long had he been watching? He must have seen how pathetically weak I was. I said as much.
“I’d rather have a student who tries harder than everyone else but does less than one who breezes through.”
“Oh.” I responded, not really sure what else to say. I took a few steps toward the gym. Adkins joined me, pulling out his keys.
“Why are you out here by yourself?”
I glanced around. Apparently, the workout session was over, because Luke and Darrin were walking through the grass away from us. They held hands as the rest of the group talked emphatically around them. One guy flexed his muscles and pretended to kiss them.
“Just wanted some exercise,” I lied. Adkins saw me watching them and turned back to me.
“They wouldn’t let you join?”
“Actually, they invited me, but I didn’t.”
Adkins cocked his head in surprise, looked at Luke and Darrin, and back at me.
“Sounds like you got a better workout than you thought.”
I wasn’t sure exactly what he meant, but didn’t press the issue. When we reached the gym, he held up a hand, blocking me.
I blushed, realizing I was following him. I didn’t do it on purpose; I just wasn’t paying attention. Story of my life.
“Sorry,” I said.
He didn’t notice my embarrassment. Instead, he said, “Principal Wolcott needs a word with you.”
I took a step back. “Me?”
He nodded.
“What for?”
As usual, worst case scenarios found their way into my head. Maybe, by only doing fifteen pull-ups in a million hours, he was suspending me for being a wuss.
As if reading my thoughts, Adkins said, “You’re not in trouble. Trust me.”
Hearing that actually helped. Although I didn’t really know him, I did trust him and nodded.
“He’s at the admissions building when you’re ready.”
“OK.” Although a million questions bubbled, that was all I could say.
Mr. Adkins nodded back at me and disappeared inside the gym.
For the next ten minutes my mind wandered, so I have no idea how I made it to the admissions building. A giant nasty shoe could have flown at me and I wouldn’t have noticed. I just couldn’t stop thinking about what Wolcott wanted. Maybe he met every student. On random nights. Out of the blue. Yeah, right.
“Beautiful night,” Wolcott said.
I chirped in surprise. Wolcott sat on a bench outside the admissions building, looking up at the stars. He wore a suit and tie, just like at orientation. I’d have been uncomfortable, but he leaned back on his hands, relaxed.
Just hearing him made me nervous again, like I was meeting Ghandi. I couldn’t bring myself to look up with him, but managed to mumble, “Uh huh.”
He smiled and stood up. Sticking out a hand, he said, “Mr. Trales.”
I shook it, wondering how he knew my name.
“I only need a few minutes of your time,” he said.
I eked out, “Sure.”
He put a hand on my shoulder. “You’re not in any kind of trouble.”
Smiling again, he turned and walked inside.
My insides churned as I followed.
Wolcott led us down a hall to the right of the admissions building entrance. Without slowing, he passed a few doors then turned left. I followed him into a nice, carpeted office. A wooden desk—definitely not Ikea—sat in the middle. Wolcott ignored it and went to a TV screen mounted on a wall. Three chairs had been arranged around it.
Jimmy sat in one of the chairs.
The fear that had been mounting fled. What was he doing here?
“Hi Blaize,” Jimmy said. He didn’t make eye contact.
Weird.
I couldn’t judge him, though, because I awkwardly whispered, “Sup.” It was the dumbest thing ever, me trying to sound cool and relaxed.
Wolcott walked around, sat in the middle chair, and motioned to the one next to him.
Keeping my eye on Jimmy, I went over and lowered myself.
“I’m sure you have a million questions, so I’ll get right to it,” said Wolcott.
A million and a half, I thought.
“I just wanted to talk to you about the funeral.”
“The what?”
Wolcott raised an eyebrow. “I understand you attended a funeral this summer?”
The past rammed into me. I’d done so good at blocking out that day but here it was, tormenting me again.
Wolcott must have seen the change in my expression, because he said, “You remember.”
I nodded.
“I understand Zimmerman’s Zealots protested.”
I straightened up as a horrible thought hit. “They’re not coming here, are they?”
He shook his head.
“Good.” I looked at Jimmy, who pretended to watch TV. Nothing was on the screen.
Weird squared.
I turned back to Wolcott and pinched my hands with my knees. “What did you want to know about them?”
“Actually, I wanted to talk about your friend.”
“Who?”
“The friend who accompanied you to the funeral.”
I knew who he meant, but didn’t want to discuss Kyle. I looked down.
“I heard you had a rough day.”
“You heard I had a rough day?” I looked at Wolcott and realized what he meant. “Timothy told you.”
He nodded.
I wasn’t sure how that made me feel, Timothy spilling everything. A part of me admitted it made sense; he had to convince the school to enroll me. But I didn’t want the world to know about my unpopularity. Sanctuary Prep Academy was my chance to start over.
“Blaize?”
I debated making something up, but I didn’t want to come across as a liar. I mean, if Timothy told them everything, Wolcott already knew. I might as well just get it over with.
Staring back down at my hands, I said, “His name was Kyle. Is. His name is Kyle.”
“Kyle,” Wolcott said, nodding. “What happened to him?”
Keeping my eyes focused on a single thread of carpet, I said, “He joined the protesters.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Me too.” I didn’t expect such honesty to escape my mouth, but it did.
“Did you have any idea he was going to join them?”
I shook my head.
“So what happened?”
I began rubbing my foot back and forth across the floor. “We were walking to the funeral, then he just turned around and went over with them.”
“Did you try to stop him?”
I was too chicken to do anything.
I couldn’t say that, so I muttered, “I told him to come back.”
Wolcott stood and walked toward the TV on the wall. “And what did he do?”
“He just ignored me.” I paused to pick nothing off my shorts before adding, “It’s like he was in a trance.”
Wolcott cleared his throat. “Did you hear singing or chanting of any kind before your friend tranced out?”
That one caught me off guard. I looked up at him and said, “Yes. Someone was singing this stupid song about how everyone should join them.”
Wolcott didn’t respond. Instead, he grabbed a remote control and pushed some buttons. The TV flickered on and a video began playing. I looked up to see the funeral. Someone had caught the protest on film.
I pushed back into the chair, hoping I might vanish into a black hole.
The camera panned around for a while, then Wolcott paused.
“Is that the two of you?”
Squinting, I focused on the image. It was me all right, standing in front of the barricade at the funeral. Kyle had already crossed over and held his sign in the air. The moment looked exactly as it did in my memory. I turned away; seeing the scene sucked almost as bad as being there. Still, I nodded.
“And you’re sure he is?”
“Sure he’s what?” I asked.
“I’m asking Mr. Blackwood,” Wolcott said.
I flinched. With my mind on the funeral, I’d forgotten Jimmy was there. Confused, I looked at him. His legs swung back and forth under his chair. I had no idea why, but he was embarrassed. He reminded me of my sister Molly when Mom forced her to tell the truth.
“Mr. Blackwood?” Wolcott’s voice was a little sterner.
Jimmy looked at Kyle on the screen and nodded. “Yes, he is.”
I couldn’t help myself and said, “He’s what?”
Wolcott powered off the TV and came over. “It’s nothing.”
I wanted to say, “Nothing? Kyle screwed me over on the worst day of my life. How can you tell me it’s nothing?” But Wolcott ushered me out of the building so fast, I couldn’t get anything out. It’s like that flying shoe came back to zoom me away.
When we stepped outside the admissions building, Wolcott finally stopped. I took advantage and immediately said, “I am so confused.”
Wolcott simply nodded.
“Can you tell me what’s going on?” I asked.
“I can’t, I’m sorry. But it’s nothing you have to worry about. Just enjoy your time here.”
“Then why even bring me here tonight?”
“We just needed to confirm a few things.”
The wind picked up and ruffled my hair. I batted it back down.
“To make sure I’m not lying?”
“Not at all.”
“Why did you ask about the singing, then? And what does Jimmy know about Kyle?”
Wolcott held up a hand to silence me. My dad used to do the same thing when he was done with a subject. I stopped with the questions and said, “Fine, good night,” before walking away.
“Blaize.”
I stopped.
Wolcott came over, laid a hand on my shoulder, and said, in the kindest voice I’d ever heard, “I’m sorry about your friend. Actually, I feel sorry for him. And for you. Neither of you deserved this.” He reached out and lifted my chin. “Sometimes things outside our control happen that influence us. Sometimes we get sucked into doing something we’d never normally do. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive your friend. That wasn’t really him.”
I don’t think I’ve ever said the word before, but I was flabbergasted. I should have been furious. And I guess I kind of was. But Wolcott was speaking as if what he said was absolute fact. Like he knew for certain Kyle was innocent. That threw me and I didn’t know what to think.
Before I could ask any more questions, Wolcott disappeared into the admissions building, leaving me to my thoughts.