"You want me to come in with you?
" His mother's voice was a
fragile thread, nearly lost in
the low, gut-deep rumble of
their old Ford Explorer's engine.
Caleb's focus was on the space
outside his passenger-side
window, a sprawling green lawn
swarmed with teenagers, a
vibrant, laughing, shifting
ecosystem he was about to be
dropped into. His right hand,
slick with sweat, gripped the
door handle. His left clutched
the strap of his backpack so
tightly his knuckles were white.
He took a breath that felt thin
and useless in his tight chest.
"Nah, I got this. " The lie
tasted like chalk in his mouth.
He couldn't bring himself to
open the door. The car shuddered,
a reminder of its failing
transmission. It had broken down
twice during their move to this
town. His years of lessons from
YouTube got it running again,
but there were only so many
problems you could solve with
rusty tools, duct tape, and
sheer hope. It wouldn't last
much longer, but replacing it
required money they didn't have
"Caleb, honey, " his mother's
calloused hand rested on his arm.
Her touch was an anchor. "I'm so
sorry for moving us again. I
know it's hard. " Life had been
good once upon a time. Not rich,
but comfortable. A world of new
sneakers without holes and
action figures still in the box.
Until a rainy night eight years
ago, when a sharp knock on the
front door woke him. He had sat
on the stairs, pajama-clad knees
pulled to his chest, and watched
the silhouette of a policeman
through the pebbled glass. He
caught only a few words. A
sterile phrase. "I'm sorry to
inform "... Before his mother's
shriek shattered the night.
Seven cities. Seven schools.
Time to start number eight. The
car door groaned in protest as
he pushed it open, stepping out
into the crisp autumn air, the
smell of damp earth, and dying
leaves. "Love you, Caleb. "
"Love you too, Ma " They weren't
empty words. Ever since that
night, sitting on the floor, his
small arms wrapped around her
neck as she sobbed into his
shoulder, it had been the two of
them against the world. They
held hands at the funeral, the
polished wood of the pew cool
beneath his fingers. They did
the same as the lawyer, a man
with a smile that didn't reach
his eyes, explained that the
drunk driver had no insurance,
no job, nothing. "You can't get
blood from a stone, " the lawyer
chirped, ushering them out of
his leather-scented office. The
insurance companies weren't any
better. The car was worth less
than the loan, and the bank
hounded them for the balance.
The hospital called about unpaid
bills. Without Dad's
second-shift paycheck, there
wasn't enough money. Not for
rent. Not for clothes. Not for
food. When his mother heard
about a better-paying job in
another town, they moved. When
that job evaporated, they moved
again. And again. Enough feeling
sorry, Caleb told himself. Time
to go in. He shifted the weight
of the backpack, the straps
digging into his shoulders, and
merged into the flow of students
heading toward the massive brick
building. The air was a
cacophony of sound. The rhythmic
slap of sneakers on pavement.
The percussive beat of music
bleeding from earbuds. Burst of
high-pitched laughter. He was an
unseen inhabitant, drifting
through a world where he knew no
one. Inside, the noise amplified.
The hallway was a canyon of
beige lockers and polished
linoleum. The smell of floor wax
and too much body spray clogged
his nose. He came to a
T-intersection, the torrent of
students splitting left and
right. Caleb fumbled with the
crumpled schedule in his hand.
Room 1102. In the cavernous
quiet of the previous afternoon
when he and his mom had walked
these halls, it had seemed so
simple. Now it was a 50-50
chance. A toss of a coin. He
veered left without looking,
colliding with a girl and
sending a cascade of textbooks
clattering across the floor. She
gasped. Then, "Hey. " "Sorry,
I'm so sorry, " Caleb mumbled,
bending to help. Rule number one,
don't make a scene. Rule one,
broken. Before his fingers could
touch a book, the guy she was
with was already scooping them
up. "Dude, watch where you're
going. What are you, lost or
something? " Caleb dropped his
gaze to the floor, focusing on a
scuff mark near his
interrogator's shoe. He had
learned this lesson the hard way
on previous first days. Don't
make eye contact. Don't be a
target. At least, he thought,
don't be more of a target than
you already are. He gave a
noncommittal shrug and let the
current of students carry him
away. A quick glance over his
shoulder confirmed his escape.
With her books tucked under one
arm, the boy wrapped the other
around her waist and walked the
opposite way. Disaster averted.
But a look at the room numbers
on the passing door sent a fresh
spike of anxiety through him.
1113, 1114, 1115. Wrong way, of
course. The halls were thinning,
the noise subsiding. Caleb
turned and swam upstream against
the last few stragglers, back
past the intersection. At the
very end of the hall, almost an
afterthought, room 1102 sat
tucked into an alcove. He
slipped inside just as a
shrieking bell sliced through
the air. Scanning the room, his
heart sank. In the middle sat
the couple from the hallway, an
empty seat beside them. His eyes
darted to a safer haven, another
empty desk in the back corner,
the obvious choice to fade into
the scenery. He set his bag down
with a quiet sigh of relief, but
the classroom door creaked open.
A boy-man, built like a
refrigerator in ragged jeans and
a t-shirt stretched tight over
bulging biceps, filled the
doorway. Shaggy hair fell over
piercing eyes that locked
directly onto Caleb. "That's my
seat, " he growled, the voice
low and gravelly. A fresh voice,
sharp and authoritative, cut
through the room. "Mr. Diamond,
if you could find it in your
schedule to be on time, perhaps
you could have your pick a desk.
For now, the empty one up front
will do. " Caleb's stomach
twisted. A small win now wasn't
worth the price he'd pay at
lunch or after school. "It's
okay, " he said, his own voice
sounding foreign. "He can have
it. I'll sit up there " Diamond
shot him a look. Confusion mixed
with disdain. A silent,
temporary truce. But as Caleb
picked up his bag, the
horrifying geometry of the
situation became clear. The only
seat left was the one next to
his hallway collision. He was
making enemies at a record pace.
He slid into the desk, a silent
apology in his posture, and
studiously avoided looking at
the couple. He could smell the
girl's perfume, something floral
and sweet. The teacher
approached his desk. "You must
be Caleb. " "Yes, sir. "
"Everyone, let's welcome our
newest student, Caleb Quincy. "
The teacher returned to the
center of the room. "Now open
your books to chapter 16, which
I'm sure you all read last night.
" Caleb fumbled with his strange
new history book, the pages
stiff and unfamiliar. He tried
to focus, but the teacher's
words were a meaningless drone.
It was always a scramble to
catch up mid-year. He couldn't
concentrate. A hundred pairs of
eyes felt like a physical weight
on the back of his neck. He
heard the whispers, a rustle of
dry leaves just behind him, as
his new classmates sized him up.
When the bell mercifully rang,
the room exploded into motion.
Caleb stayed put, letting the
river of bodies flow out into
the hall. He pulled the crumpled
schedule from his pocket. 1314.
Great. Now which way was the
1300 hall? A shadow fell over
his desk. "Hey, newbie. " Caleb
glanced up into hard eyes.
Diamond glared at him. "Don't
ever take my seat again. "
Before Caleb could even form a
response, another voice cut in.
Casual, but firm. "Knock it off,
Eric. He didn't know. " To
Caleb's astonishment, it was the
are-you-lost guy. He leaned
against a desk, looking
completely unintimidated by
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