CHAPTER 10

HUDSON DUCKED INTO MR. CUTTER’S last-period history class a full minute before the bell and headed for the worst seat in the room. Dead center —with the desks of Wolfe, Zattora, and Skirt behind him. He might as well paint a bull’s-eye on his back.

Hudson hadn’t seen any of them since lunch, but he’d moved fast between periods.

Alexa and Katrina breezed into the classroom, looking at Kat’s phone and laughing obnoxiously, drawing attention to themselves. Hudson looked away. The last thing Hudson wanted was for them to think he was watching them. They already acted like everybody else was. He’d avoided them since his first day when he’d made the mistake of introducing himself, and calling Kat by her full name.

“Uh, it’s Kat,” she’d said loudly, making sure everyone in the class heard her correcting the new kid. “Nobody calls me Katrina.”

Both she and Alexa erupted into a stupid girly giggle. Hudson hadn’t talked to her since, but he’d made up his mind that if he did, he’d still call her Katrina. And why not? He was a nobody, right?

Pancake and Maggie still hadn’t shown up yet. In Hudson’s whopping two weeks here, he’d never actually seen Maggie be mean to anyone, but she seemed to have built a wall around her. Without words she had a very clear way of saying “keep away.” But for a moment, as they’d left the art room, it seemed like maybe Hudson had turned a corner with her.

Maggie’s ex-best friend, Giovanna, aka Jo, sat closer to the windows —right between Alison somebody and Logan Kennedy. At least Hudson was beginning to understand why Maggie was so guarded —in class anyway. She had as many enemies in here as he did. Maybe more.

Hudson had no idea what color Giovanna’s hair was naturally. It was dyed jet black, perfectly matching the makeup around her eyes —which seemed even thicker today. Honestly, it looked like she’d outlined her eyes with a Sharpie. Hudson tried to imagine her without the black, but he had no better luck than picturing her hanging out with Maggie.

Already Hudson’s body clock seemed to sense the bell was about to ring. Everyone else seemed to have the same built-in timer, and it sucked kids into the classroom and straight to their desks. Pancake chugged in, puffing, his cap on backwards and his hair wet along the edges. He grinned at Hudson and took his place in the row of desks along the window.

Seconds later, Maggie entered and sat at her desk without even glancing Hudson’s way. So much for turning a corner.

Wolfe, Zattora, and Skirt sauntered in with a “don’t mess with me” attitude all over their faces. Hudson felt the electricity in the air as they passed and took their seats behind him just as the bell rang.

Maggie looked back. Her eyes met Hudson’s, but she looked away immediately. Not a smile or a nod. Nothing. That was worse than being invisible, wasn’t it? She saw him —and moved on. Why should he care what she thought of him —or anybody else in this stupid school?

“All right, savages.” Mr. Cutter motioned for quiet, the slightest smile on his face. “The Creating Change project is worth a huge chunk of your grade.”

The report on some historical figure who’d changed society’s way of thinking. Hudson groaned inside.

“How many of you have started?”

Nearly half the hands in the class went up —including Maggie’s. Hudson kept his hands on his desk. Pancake looked his way and grinned. Obviously he hadn’t started either.

Mr. Cutter scanned the room. “Those who haven’t started need to get it in gear.”

Was he looking at Hudson? It felt like it.

Mr. Cutter scanned the room. “Who wants to share something about their report? Anyone?”

Katrina raised her hand. “I’ve chosen William Wilberforce.” She blurted it out without even being called on. “And how he changed the way society looked at slavery in England.” She flipped her hair and looked around smiling like she expected applause.

Mr. Cutter nodded. “I was hoping we’d all choose something from American history, but that works.”

There were plenty of people who created humongous changes in society. Just, Hudson hadn’t found anyone he felt revved up about. Not enough to do a whole project about them.

“And if you really want a challenge, write your essay on something that needs to change in our society now,” Mr. Cutter said. “How would you create change in that area?”

The incident in the cafeteria flashed through his mind. The bullying situation definitely needed to change. Right. Like Hudson needed a bigger challenge.

“Okay, time to switch gears,” Mr. Cutter said. “Let’s go back in our time machine.”

The time machine. One of Mr. Cutter’s favorites. Hudson wished it were real. Wished he could take a spin in it and do the lunch period all over again. Pick a different table this time.

Better yet, go back to when Dad still had his old job at Northrop on the East Coast. Knowing how it all turned out, he could have warned Dad to turn down the transfer and never move from Massachusetts to Illinois.

If only.

Dad wouldn’t have gotten the ax in the downsizing here. He wouldn’t be working at Chick-fil-A as floor manager by day and Lowe’s home improvement store at night. And Mom wouldn’t have had to take the job at Rolling Meadows City Hall.

Hudson would still be homeschooled —and the only looking over his shoulder he’d be doing was when he was sneaking a snack from the fridge.

God, I’m really wishing I didn’t get involved back in the lunchroom. But I did. I think it was the right thing to do. Please — Exactly what was it he wanted God to do about it? Keep him safe? Get him out of this? Just stay close, God. Okay?

Standing at the board, Mr. Cutter uncapped a marker. “The date is December 25, 1776.” He wrote the date in large print. “Ring a bell?”

Hudson was about to raise his hand, but then he’d only draw more attention to himself. Thanks, but no thanks. He flipped to a clean page in his notebook and doodled a rowboat crossing the icy Delaware River —with General Washington standing at the bow. He imagined the darkness of the night and the feelings the soldiers must have had as they moved into position for the Battle of Trenton. Cold. Tired. Underfed and outnumbered.

“Anyone?” Mr. Cutter scanned the room. For an instant his eyes flashed down to Hudson’s paper. He kept moving. “Mr. Kennedy?”

Logan Kennedy sat up. “Uh . . . maybe you should tell me where the time machine is parked. Are we talking Europe? South America?”

Mr. Cutter drummed the marker on his palm. “This is US History, Mr. Kennedy.”

Kennedy laughed, along with most of the others in the room. Maggie didn’t even smile.

Cutter raised one hand to quiet the room. “The time machine is parked on the bank of the Delaware River along with the Continental Army.”

“December 25, 1776, is definitely ringing a bell now,” Kennedy said. “I’m going with Christmas!”

More laughter.

Mr. Cutter smiled. “Not exactly the answer I was looking for.” He started a slow walk around the room. “Maggie?”

“General Washington’s crossing of the Delaware,” she said.

Mr. Cutter nodded.

“Right,” Kennedy said. “On Christmas.” Mitch Zattora leaned over and slapped Kennedy on the back.

Mr. Cutter raised his hand again. “Washington and his ragtag army crossing the Delaware. I’m sure a lot of prayers were rising up from the men that night. Can you picture it?”

Right now Hudson kept picturing the scene in the cafeteria. Could he have done anything different?

Apparently Mr. Cutter was getting a lot of blank stares. “General Washington was in a very bad position strategically. He was fighting the king of England, a bully with a crown. The king of England, who would get his way no matter how many had to die. The king had the authority to execute. Imprison. And he was doing it here, on US soil.” He paused. “Are you getting the picture?”

Yeah. Washington was in a mess.

Mr. Cutter paced along the whiteboard. “The British controlled critical Eastern seaports. They had the men. The momentum. What would have happened to Washington if he gave up? Surrendered?” He scanned the room. “Mr. Wolfe?”

“His face wouldn’t be on our dollar bills —or our quarters.”

Wolfe got even more laughter. Ha! Hudson resisted the urge to break out in mock hysterical laughter. Wolfe is so funny! Yeah, real funny . . . to look at.

Mr. Cutter tapped the marker on his open palm. “What would General Washington have lost?” He paused until the room got real quiet. “Everything. His land. His home. His family. And likely his life. He was a traitor, after all. Think about that.”

Hudson stared at the sketch he’d made of Washington. Standing in the bow. Not hiding. Not invisible.

Mr. Cutter capped and uncapped the marker. “Which one of you savages can finish this saying? ‘Those who don’t learn from history are forced to . . .’ what?”

Giovanna raised her hand. “Repeat it.”

“Precisely. History is important. If you want to know how to face your future, look at the past. So how does the example of Washington and the Battle of Trenton help you with battles you face today?”

Nobody answered.

“Here are three life lessons.”

Hudson felt Mr. Cutter was talking directly to him.

“First, plan and take action —just like Washington did.”

Hudson jotted it down, just above the sketch of Washington’s boat.

“Second. When you’re up against something bigger and stronger than you are, you’ll never win by playing it safe. You need to take risks.”

Hudson wrote take risks to the right of Washington’s boat. He pictured the scene in the lunchroom.

“Third.” Mr. Cutter pointed his marker at the class. “Never give up —no matter how much bigger the opposition is. Victory isn’t guaranteed to the stronger army, unless you surrender.”

Hudson scribbled the last point to the left of the drawing and connected the three with a large triangle. He sat back in his chair and stared at his drawing. Mr. Cutter nailed it.

But what did this piece of history teach Hudson about his situation?

The period bell rang. He’d made it. Sort of. He still had to get out of the school, grab his bike, and get back home in one piece. He stayed put.

Mr. Cutter stepped into the hall. Wolfe, Zattora, and Skirt were right behind him, clearly in a hurry. Skirt shot Hudson one of those tough-guy looks as he passed. With his freakishly upturned nose, he didn’t pull it off well. Logan Kennedy and others funneled out of the room right behind them.

Pancake stopped by Hudson’s desk. “I gotta hit my locker. Wanna go together?”

It would be smart. But something held him back. Actually, it was Maggie. She was still at her desk, but he wanted to talk to her —even though he had no idea what to say. “Meet you at the bike rack.”

Pancake trotted toward the door. “I’ll be there in five.”

Hudson stood. He needed to move quick and bury himself in the crowd. But he just stood there stalling and let others pass.

Maggie sat finishing up notes. Her handwriting had an artsy flair. Swirls. Curls. She’d laugh if she saw his primitive drawing of Washington in the rowboat. He had to say something to her. Break the ice.

Katrina and Alexa stood and left together, with Giovanna following. Katrina kicked the leg of Maggie’s desk as she passed. Maggie’s pen slid across her notes. An accident? Maggie didn’t say a word.

Giovanna kicked the chair too, but harder. “Oops,” she said.

Maggie looked up at Giovanna. A sad look.

Giovanna’s smile looked plastic. Forced. She hurried to join Kat and Alexa, laughing like she’d just done the funniest thing.

What was that all about? Say something to Maggie, Hudson. He slung his backpack over one shoulder, grabbed his notebook, and walked to her desk. What do you say to encourage someone you hardly know?

“Um, see you tomorrow.” Okay, that was lame.

Maggie glanced at the drawing on his notebook. “Think you’ll last that long?” She looked down at her notes like the conversation was over.

Hudson stood there for an awkward second trying to think of something clever to say. And if you keep hovering, she’ll think you’re some kind of creepy stalker.

“See ya.” He headed for the door like he didn’t expect her to respond, but not too fast, in case she did.

Hudson hesitated at the door. He couldn’t start thinking about Maggie’s problems. He had enough of his own. He had to keep his head in the game. Watch for Wolfe and his pack. Hudson looked both ways. He could think of only one reason why they hadn’t retaliated yet. They were planning something big.