The next morning Danny wore a dress shirt and a tie along with khaki pants.

Mr. Crenshaw raised his eyebrows. “Church this morning?”

Danny fidgeted with his tie and slumped down on the couch. “Coach Kinen says game days we have to dress for business.”

“Ahh.” Mr. C angled his head toward the game box resting on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Yahtzee?”

“You gotta get Xbox, Mr. C.” Danny wrinkled his nose at Yahtzee, then chuckled at the thought of last night. He’d seen Cupcake in the hall and his friend had given him a dirty look and called him “barley boy” before turning his back. Danny knew he’d be over it by lunch.

“What’s so funny?” Mr. C asked.

Danny told him how the game had ended last night. Instead of laughing, Mr. C frowned. “How did that make you feel?”

Danny stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“To kill your friends and then yourself. I know it’s only a video game, but you were happy, right? I mean, you’re laughing now. You played a joke on your friends, I get that.”

“I was happy, yeah. I guess. It was funny for a little while.”

“So you felt something else, too,” Mr. C said. “Maybe angry?”

Danny chewed on his bottom lip. “I guess . . . I was mad.”

Mr. C nodded. “Yes.”

Danny looked into the counselor’s eyes.

“What made you mad?” Mr. Crenshaw spoke softly.

The room felt painfully quiet. Danny looked at his hands and shook his head.

“Where did that anger come from?” Mr. C asked softly again.

“I shot Cupcake first, so he couldn’t see it coming. But the others . . . they just stood around and let me pop them. Why would you be so stupid?”

Mr. C picked up a pen and gently tapped his desk. “So you were angry at them for dying?”

Danny suddenly saw red. He swept the Yahtzee box off the table so hard it burst open and the dice scattered. He leaped up and kicked the table. “This is stupid! I don’t have to be here! I don’t have to read! Why don’t you and your stupid girlfriend leave me alone?”

Danny raced out the door and let it stay open behind him. He stomped through the hallways and realized Mr. C was silently trailing him.

Danny stopped and shouted, “Stop following me. What are you doing?”

Mr. C shrugged, but he didn’t seem upset. “You’re my responsibility for first period. I’d prefer we stay in my office, but you’re upset.”

“No, I’m not!” Danny said.

“Okay.”

Danny growled and marched to his locker. He opened it and took the Playaway from his backpack.

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” said the counselor. “Can you do that in my office?”

“No. I’m going outside to sit under a tree.”

“That works.”

Danny rolled his eyes. He marched right out the front entrance of the school, down the steps, and threw himself down in the grass under a big old tree. He put his back to its trunk and put the buds in his ears. He marveled at what he was getting away with. Mr. C might as well have been Cupcake for all the rules he was following—none.

Mr. C took out his phone and sat on the stone railing at the bottom of the steps. He seemed to pay Danny no mind, and after a while the story Danny was listening to got so good he forgot Mr. C was even there.

It was some time before he heard a shout that he ignored. He heard it two more times before he realized it was his name.

“Owens!”

Danny looked up and saw Mr. Trufant, red faced and trembling with rage. Danny yanked his earbuds out.

“What in the world are you doing out here?” the principal roared.

“Listening, sir.”

“Well, listen to me . . . You just listened your way out of playing in a football game today.”