I still wasn’t feeling great, so I spent the next day at home too, mostly napping. When I woke up this morning Josh was still asleep. I’m not sure why, but I went for a short run and did some pushups and sit-ups. Also, I actually studied my haphtarah by myself after last night’s beer run, because Josh seemed pretty distracted. I’m not sure if the Quest is still on or not.
I decide on an old pair of jeans and a T-shirt from the summer soccer league. I’m not employing any product. Other than my haircut, there is no trace of the Lesley-influenced New Isaac. All right, I am wearing boxer briefs, but no one is going to know about that unless things get really weird.
The scratches on my face have scabbed over into three semiparallel lines running down my cheek. Like Ged from A Wizard of Earthsea, with the scars on his face from the nameless black beast that he summoned from the lonely outer darkness.
I ride my bike to school, timing it so that I arrive just before homeroom starts, meaning there will be fewer kids outside or walking through the halls, and those who aren’t in classrooms will be concentrating on getting to them as quickly as possible. Before I step through the doors I take a moment for a deep breath. You got nothin’, says Patrick. Right. You got nothin’.
The school is a foreign country. It feels like a century since I’ve been here. I walk through the halls, past the lunchroom, the gym, the trophy case, and I wonder if it will ever seem normal again. It’s like one of those optical illusions, where once you see it one way you can’t go back to seeing it the other. But it’s not the school that has changed, it’s me.
The first test: homeroom. But Paul isn’t there. Maybe he’s out sick. I sigh in relief. I sit and bury my head in a book. If people are looking at me, I don’t know it. When the bell rings and I’m walking out, Mr. Leopold pulls me aside.
“You all right? Not like you to be absent.”
I give him the note that Josh signed for me. Mr. Leopold reads it.
“You feeling better?”
“Yes.”
“What happened here?” he says, wiggling his finger at his own face, asking about the condition of mine. A nameless black beast from the outer darkness is what happened.
“Nothing. Just wrestling with my brother.”
I make it through the next two periods without incident. No one pays any attention to me. I don’t spot the Assholes. I don’t have any classes with Paul or Steve or Danny today, and I don’t intend to seek them out at lunch.
It’s right before third period that I spot Danny. I’m just turning away from my locker, and there he is, walking straight toward me. He looks determined.
“Hi, Danny,” I say when he gets close.
He punches me in the face.
In the forehead, really. It makes a bonking noise, sort of a miniversion of what it sounded like when Josh elbowed me. I reach my hand up and touch the impact point, surprised. Danny has taken a step back and is standing there, his fists clenched, his eyes wide, looking as surprised as me. And scared. And in pain. I think he hurt his hand on my forehead.
We’re both nearly motionless, except for me rubbing the spot where he hit me. He is breathing hard, waiting for me to make the next move. So I do.
“My brother is having a party tonight,” I say. “Wanna come?”