She pointed the open end of her marker. “Now.”
I ground my teeth together and clamped down on the monologue brewing inside me about how cosmically screwed up the high school universe was for me to be the one getting kicked out of class.
“Fine,” I said, sliding my notebook underneath my arm and leaving behind a snickering Knox. It would be better for all humanity if we didn’t have to breathe the same air, anyway.
I let the door close behind me too hard. The corridor was empty and hushed. The noise of the air conditioner through the vents thrummed behind the walls. I stood planted outside of Dr. Lamb’s classroom for a moment while my chest rose and fell in rapid succession. Now that I had time to spare, it was a matter of determining how best to kill it. Right, well, I certainly had some experience in killing things, it seemed, so perhaps I should go check on that.
I adjusted my strap and took fast steps down the hall toward the history department. I’d taken US History with Mrs. Landers last year, and I recognized the door with the small, slender window carved into it and the blue cutout of North America. I slowed my pace as I approached and watched as my shadow crossed the seam of the wall and doorway. Adam was inside. A peek wouldn’t hurt. One peek just to make sure he’s all right.
I chewed on my lip and leaned over my toes to get a view through the narrow window. Mrs. Landers was writing something on the whiteboard. I scanned the students. At first, I didn’t see Adam, and my heart skipped. The students were pulling out notebooks and pencils. Then, in the fourth row near the center, I spotted his hunched-over figure. He was curled over his book bag, one of Owen’s old ones from last year. I held my breath as I watched him pull out a notebook and set it on his desk just like the other kids in the classroom. His eyebrows scrunched together. A sigh of relief morphed into a muffled gasp when he bent back over, pinched the bottom ends of his book bag, and turned it upside down to shake out the contents.
Several heads turned, including Mrs. Landers’s. I ducked so as not to be caught spying. Adam, I mouthed to myself. What are you doing? I ventured back to the glass and craned to see. The students had settled. Adam’s belongings were still strewn across the floor around him, but he’d found a pencil, which he now held poised over his open notebook. One eyebrow crawled higher on his forehead than the other, and it looked as though he’d stuffed his tongue into the pocket of his cheek so that it protruded in concentration. He returned his gaze from the whiteboard to the page when—pop!—the pencil snapped in two. The eraser end tumbled to his desk. I smacked my forehead and groaned audibly. Adam’s eyes snapped to attention.
Victoria? I couldn’t hear from the other side of the glass, but from the dozen heads that turned in my direction, I was sure he’d said it out loud. “Victoria!” This time he waved. Mrs. Landers, who, to be honest, had never really liked me, stared directly at me, her pillowy cheeks reddening. “Victoria!” Adam’s smile took over his face, and he exclaimed loudly enough for me to hear. I felt my eyes widen. He stood up and the desk got caught at his thighs. “Hi, Victoria! That’s Victoria! Come inside!” He beckoned me in with the hand still clutching his broken pencil.
I flattened my back behind me and slid to the ground, sinking my forehead into my hands. Bad idea. Such a bad idea. I didn’t know how long I waited, but the commotion on the other side of the door seemed to die down and, in any event, Mrs. Landers must have been in a more lenient mood with the new kid than Dr. Lamb had been with me.
At this rate, Adam would cause as much disruption in the school day as a small tornado. He was big, enthusiastic, and, unlike any real high schooler I’d ever known, completely unselfconscious. Whoever he was, he was all Adam and he was all my problem.
The bell for the end of first period jarred me from my thoughts. A swarm of students funneled out into the hallway, and, from my vantage point on the ground, I could sense how Adam felt this morning. The crush of bodies, the explosion of voices, the slamming locker doors that rang out like gunshots, it was all a bit shattering.
I felt the weight of eyes on me and peered up. “Victoria.” Adam cocked his head. “Why are you on the ground?”
I sighed and stretched my hand out to him, which he took. “I’m … hiding.”
Adam looked around, nearly knocking over a ninth grader with his book bag. “From what?”
I dusted off the grime from my palms. “From reality.” I shrugged. “Come on. We’re only one-seventh of the way through.”