The jars are filled with worms. I'd wondered why Jackson said we were short. Shane's got this look in his eye like a kid at Christmas. He offers me a jar, but I shake my head. "I'm still eating my apple."
We walk down the hall. The teacher on hall duty isn't around, which is weird. Madame Latour usually patrols the place like a maximum-security prison.
Shane looks at me and, like he's reading my mind, goes, "Latour won't be back for a while—eh, Brad?"
Brad laughs. "I dropped some ex-lax in her coffee last class. She is, how you say, beaucoup crappez."
I follow them to the end of the hall. Shane doesn't usually put so much thought into his plans. This premeditated stuff is taking him to a whole new level. 1 start to worry about what he's got in mind.
He stops at the landing and puts a finger to his lips as he unscrews the lid. So does Brad. "On the count of three," he whispers, pointing over the railing.
Why does he want to dump them down the stairs? It'll stink up two floors that way, but it just doesn't seem worth all the hype.
They put their jars on the ledge.
"One …"
I look over down the stairwell and notice someone sitting on the bottom step.
"Two ..."
It's Katie.
"Thr—"
Before the word is out, I drive my shoulder into Shane and Brad, knocking them backwards. Both jars tip towards them, spilling worms everywhere. Shane jumps back just in time, but not Brad. He gets soaked in formaldehyde and slime as the glass jars crash around our feet.
"What the hell?!" Brad yells, looking at me like he's going to hit me. He slips on the worms and lands smack on his butt in the middle of them.
Shane just stares at me. I expect him to start razzing me about being a klutz. But he knows it wasn't an accident. Just like I know they targeted Katie on purpose, to test me.
"When are you two going to grow up?" I ask. And without waiting for an answer I walk away.
"You gonna let him away with that?" Brad asks. I can tell he's angry. Stinking like that, there's no way he'll get out of taking the rap for this one.
Shane doesn't answer, but his stare is burning a hole in my back. I don't care. They think I failed their stupid test.
But the way I see it, I passed.
Katie
After lunch, Isabella stopped with Jenna at her locker. They totally ignored me. Jenna just got her books and left, even though we were going to the same class. It was like I was invisible.
Too bad I wasn't. Maybe then Shane would leave me alone too.
Something was up. He was by himself, which was odd. Even more weird was how he kept staring at me the whole time. He was giving me the creeps. Those eyes, they were so intense, so angry. For a second, I thought maybe I had done something wrong.
I knelt and searched for my notebooks in the bottom of my locker. His eyes bored into my back.
Don't look at him. Don't look at him.
I rushed to get my stuff, spilling my pencil crayons around the floor. My hands shook as I reached for them. The hall emptied. Kids headed to class. But not Shane. I knew he was still there. Watching. Waiting.
I grabbed what I could, slammed my locker shut, and got out of there, fast.
Devan
Seeing as he was soaked with formaldehyde, Brad gets busted for the worm jars and sent home early. I wonder what kind of story he'll tell his folks. Knowing his dad, he'll buy it. "Boys will be boys," he'll say and then tell Brad about all the trouble he used to get into in school.
I don't wait for Shane. I'm already at the bus stop when I see him come out of the school. I shuffle around in the snow trying to keep my feet warm, hoping the slush will wash off some of that formaldehyde stink.
Shane walks up and stands beside me. We don't say anything. What is there to say?
Finally he goes, "What's your problem, Dev?" Like I'm the one with a problem.
I don't answer. My feet are stinging from the cold. The bus is taking forever. I might as well just walk. "I'm outta here."
"Oh, what," he yells up the hill after me. "You think you're better than me, Dev?" He sounds almost desperate.
I keep walking.
"Well, you're not!" he shouts after me. "You're a loser, man. Nothing but a loser! Go ahead and walk away. You'll come crawling back. Some things never change!"
But he is wrong. Something has changed.
Me.
By the time I reach the top of the hill I know there's no way I'm walking home. Not in this weather. Not in these shoes. My feet are like ice. The only feeling left in my toes is a dull tingle. 1 cross the street and head for the hospital on the corner. My aunt works there. She is always telling me to stop by. Today seems as good a time as any to take her up on that offer of a ride.
"My shift is almost over," Aunt Maureen says with a big smile. She's so happy to see me I feel bad for waiting so long to drop by. "I'll be another fifteen minutes. Will that get you home in time for Em?"
I nod.
"Actually, Devan," she hands me a stack of library books. "I got these out for the patient in 242. Would you be a sweetie and bring them down?"
"Sure." I walk down the hall. "Visiting the library" probably isn't in her job description, but that's Aunt Maureen for you. She just has this way of giving you exactly what you need, sometimes even before you know you need it. I like that about her.
I find the room and knock.
"Come in," a voice calls from the other side. I open the door, surprised to see the room so bare. No cards, no flowers, no visitors. Poor kid, I think stepping in. No wonder Aunt Maureen took this guy under her wing.
"Just dropping off some stuff for—" my voice catches in my throat. It's him.
Will.
His leg is strung up. Tubes run in and out of his arms and nose. His broken body is covered in bandages and bruises. But it's his eyes that hit me hardest. He looks ... scared.
I take a step back.
"Uh ... here," I put the books on the table, "in case you want to read or something."
He doesn't move.
"So ... uh ... how are you doing?" I ask.
"Okay, I guess." He looks at me sideways. "Well, all things considered." He glances down at his leg.
"Looks like they got you pretty much cocooned there, don't they?"
"Yes. I'm a regular chrysalis, aren't I?" He relaxes a bit, settling back on his pillow. "Think I'll become a butterfly?"
"Who knows?" I say, staring hard at the floor. "Depends on if you think people can change."
He doesn't answer at first. But when I look up he is smiling at me.
"Yes," he says. "I think they can."
Aunt Maureen enters the room to fluff Will's pillow. She moves the book within reach.
"Thanks, Devan," Will says. "For the books, I mean. I really appreciate it."
"Oh, they're from—" I start to explain but Aunt Maureen squeezes my arm. Somehow, she knows it means more coming from me. "No problem." I start to leave and stop. "Next time I'll bring some on shedding cocoons."
"Yes," he laughs. "Yes. I'd like that very much."
William James Reid
Trophallaxis
Foragers
store food
in their crop
to share with those
who are
hungry
yet unable to leave
the nest.
Nourishment,
given in the form of
liquid food,
or
library books.
Katie
I volunteered to clean out Mr. Jackson's aquarium. He wasn't going to get any more fish after somebody poisoned the last bunch. But I promised him we weren't all like that. I hoped that if someone showed interest and responsibility then he'd change his mind.
If nothing else, cleaning the tank kept me busy. It kept my mind off things. Mostly Jenna, Will, Shane, and Devan. And I figured that if I wasn't around, Shane might find some new hobby, other than m
e. Besides, I loved aquariums. I always wanted one. I'd milked the cleaning into a weeklong project.
"Katie, I appreciate you doing this," Mr. Jackson said. "I don't believe the tank ever looked so clean, even when I bought it." He scooped up a stack of assignments and opened the door. "Be sure to lock up when you leave."
I nodded and went back to scrubbing the tiny mermaid statue. Maybe he'll let me be in charge of the tank for good, I thought, hoping I could hide out in here for the rest of the year. I'd rather hang out with fish, anyway.
I smirked. God, now I'm sounding like Will.
I spent the whole lunch hour in there and I was just finishing up when I heard him.
"Well, if it isn't Katie." It was more of a threat than a greeting. I didn't have to look to know it was Shane. The statue fell from my hands. Brad leaned over and picked it up, looking at me as he snapped it in his fist.
"You're not supposed to be in here," I said, hoping they couldn't see the panic rippling up my back. My eyes darted between them.
"Not everyone does what they are supposed to do, Katie." Shane said, his voice eerily calm. "You were supposed to be in the lunchroom. Brad and I are supposed to raid the fetal pig jars. But things don't always go the way you want. You just make the best of it—eh, Brad?"
Brad chuckled.
"I have to go," I said, inching towards the door. Brad stepped out, blocking the way.
Shane looked me over and sneered. "I don't know what Devan sees in you."
My face flushed at Devan's name. "I have to go—" The words stuck in my dry mouth.
Shane stepped forward, backing me up against the tank. There was no escape, now. I was trapped. Suddenly I understood. I saw how it must have been for Will all those months. Stand up to him. Don't let him push you around. Don't give him power over you. Those "strategies" echoed hollow and empty in my head. It was a lot easier to give that advice than to take it.
I swallowed and looked Shane right in the face. "You don't scare me, Shane," I said, trying to keep my voice from wobbling as much as my legs. I gripped the table behind me. "I am not afraid of you."
"Well, you should be," he said in a low whisper. "You should be."
Devan
I head to the lab early. My assignment's overdue, but maybe I can sneak it into the pile on his desk. At least, I hope so. Luckily it's Potluck Tuesday. Jackson never gets out of the teacher's lounge on time while there's a Crock-Pot cooking, so I've got a few minutes.
I enter the lab, surprised to see Shane. Something's up. Is he scamming worms? Trashing the aquarium again?
Then I see Katie. Shane's got her cornered over by the fish tank. She's sheet white and her eyes are wicked huge. She's scared, real scared.
My first instinct is to jump in there and pound the crap out of Shane for scaring her like that. But instead, I walk to Jackson's desk beside him and drop my assignment.
"Picking on girls now, Shane?" I say, like I'm just making conversation.
Shane's ears go red. He turns to face me. "What did you say?"
"He said 'Picking on—'" Brad echoes.
"You heard me," I say real quiet, meeting Shane stare for stare. He can't pull that one on me. I know his tricks. "Leave her alone."
Shane snatches Katie's wrist as she tries to get by again. His eyes never leave mine. "You gonna make me?"
My jaw clenches. I hope he's not saying what I think he is. He knows I can kick his butt. If I have to.
The bell rings and the door clicks open. The class comes in, but I know Jackson won't be here for a little while longer. Sensing a fight, everyone gathers around us for a ringside seat.
"C'mon Dev," Shane says, like we're all buddy-buddy. "Lighten up, man. We're just joking is all."
"It's not funny."
"Well, we think it is," Shane looks around the crowd. "Don't we?"
Nobody speaks.
He singles out a few with his stare, but they look away, shuffle their feet, or look at Katie wriggling in his grip, still trying to break free. Her wrist is red from all the wrenching and twisting. Shane glares at her, then me. He still doesn't get it.
"Only trash would hurt a girl ... right?" I say, throwing his own words back at him. "Or are you taking after Riley, Shane?"
I can see the realization hit him. He reels like I just punched him in the gut, his eyes wide with shock as he stares at the truth. For a moment, he looks like he might even cry. Then his anger takes over, burning away everything else, till all he sees is red.
"Shut up!!" He lets go of her wrist and shoves me hard into the desk. "Just shut your freaking mouth! I'm nothing like him!"
Katie disappears into the crowd. But Shane doesn't care. This isn't about her anymore.
It's not even about me.
It's about him.
Katie
Devan hit the desk hard, landing on his back. Books and papers went flying everywhere as Shane jumped on top of him. Mr. Jackson's glass barometer hit the floor and exploded into a million pieces. Shane pounded his fists into Devan's sides, but Devan's bent arms blocked some of the blows. I'd never seen Shane so out of control.
"Get him! Get him, Shane!" Brad cheered.
Devan got a knee up and pushed Shane off. But Shane was right back on him as he rolled off the desk. Grabbing handfuls of shirt, they wrestled each other across the front of the room. Glass crunched under their feet.
Shane tried to get a few punches over Devan's thick arms, catching him on the cheek, and the jaw. But Devan drove forward, pushing Shane against the wall, and lifting him by fistfuls of his collar.
"Say you're sorry," Devan grunted through clenched teeth.
Shane squirmed and kicked.
"Say ... you're ... sorry!" Devan said again.
"Screw you!" Shane spat on him.
There was no way in heck Shane was going to apologize, ever. But Devan wasn't giving up. And I knew it wasn't about just me anymore. It was bigger than that. Bigger than what Shane did to Will even. It was like Devan wanted to hear Shane take responsibility for something, anything, even if he had to squeeze it out of him.
"Geez, Shane! Say you're freakin' sorry!" Devan said.
Suddenly Brad appeared out of nowhere with Jackson's yardstick. He swung it like a bat, breaking it across Devan's back. Devan arched in pain, dropping Shane.
A mix of blood, sweat, and spit ran down Devan's face as he gasped for breath. Brad stood over him waving the broken ruler.
"Who's sorry now, loser?" Brad asked with a wicked grin.
"You are," Mr. Jackson said, entering the classroom and staring at the three of them.
Devan
Jackson marches us right to Spence's office. Spence meets with Jackson for a few minutes, then calls us in one by one, starting with Brad.
Shane and I sit in the waiting room, but his eyes never leave the carpet. He never says a word. He must be thinking about all that has happened. How far he has gone. After a few minutes, Spence's door opens and Brad comes out.
"Mr. Duran," Spence calls. Shane goes in next. Spence's mumble starts like a hive of bees.
"So?" I ask Brad. "What'd he say?"
"Well, because I used a weapon and the fact that I'd already got busted for that worm thing, Spence gave me a two-week suspension and a warning. If I step a foot out of line I'm outta here. Whatever." He shrugs like it's no biggie and leaves. Knowing Brad, he'll take that as a challenge. His dad's been itching to send him to that military school anyway. Said that's where he learned how to be a real man.
Shane's voice rises and falls, breaking the silence of the waiting room. A couple of times I hear Spence's low mumble. After a good half hour, the door clicks open and there's Shane, wiping his nose on his sleeve. Has he been crying? Spence walks him to the office door and puts his hand on his shoulder. "We covered a lot of ground today. Go home, and I'll see you for our meeting tomorrow, son."
"Okay, sir," Shane says. He looks smaller, somehow. Like some of the air has been let out of him. I almost feel sorry fo
r him. He heads for the hall, then stops and turns. "Thanks, Mr. Spence."
What the heck did Spence say in there? I wonder. He hadn't talked much at all, mostly just listening. Was that what Shane really needed?
"Mr. Mitchell?"
I get up and follow Spence into his office. He motions for me to sit in one of the chairs in front of his big desk. He sits in the other.
"Why don't you tell me what happened, son," he says. So I do. Spence listens carefully as though he hadn't already heard this story three times before.
"Well, it sounds like you were defending Katie. You never threw a punch. It was two against one and Brad hit you from behind. Is that right?"
I nod. Geez, when you put it like that, I sound like some kinda hero.
"But," he continues, "the fact is you were fighting and you did some damage to Mr. Jackson's desk and classroom. Although your intentions are noble, Devan, there are always consequences for your actions."
In the end, he gives me a two-day suspension. It sounds fair to me. I only hope it sounds as fair to Mom and Dad.
I manage to change my shirt before Mom and Dad get home, but there's no changing my face. It's pretty messed up. All cut, scabbed, and bruised. Mom starts crying when she sees me.
"Oh, sweetie, have a seat and let me get you a snack." She fusses in the kitchen and then hands me a wicked huge bowl of chocolate mint ice cream. Like it will make my back feel any better. Funny enough, it does. Weird how moms know that, eh?
"Okay, Dev. What's the deal? What happened?" Dad asks. Mom joins us at the kitchen table and I spill the whole story; about Shane and Brad, about Will—I even tell them about Katie.
Mom gets all weepy again over my "emotional scars" from being rejected by my friends and all. But pity is good, considering the next thing I have to tell them is that I'm suspended for a few days. Surprisingly, they're both pretty understanding.
"You can't change other people, Devan. Not Shane or Brad or anyone else for that matter." Dad says. "The only person you can change is yourself. And that takes work." He pats my shoulder. "Since you've got some time on your hands, I suggest you spend it considering what things you need to work on."
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