Everybody was looking at him. The giggling that had happened in English started again. A boy Freddy knew only as Jumbo Jim said, “The last time you were in grade nine?”
“Metaphorically speaking.” Josiah flapped a hand wearily at the universe. “The worst bits of life are all metaphorically grade nine. Haven’t you people noticed you’re living in a nightmare? Freddy has, but she wants me to shut up about it. The first time I met her, she was wearing a hat.”
Freddy hardly noticed the comment about the hat, which made no sense at all. What she was mainly feeling was an urge to punch Josiah very hard in the mouth and, with luck, silence him for good.
Cathy said, “Oh my God, Freddy, your boyfriend is a freak.” Cathy’s voice was nearly as penetrating as Josiah’s. Freddy once more put her head down on her desk.
Fifteen minutes later, when Josiah strolled into the band room, Freddy had become resigned to the fact that he was going to be everywhere this year. It was with a dreamy sense of inevitability that she watched him demonstrate to Ms. Bains that he could play the trombone competently, if a bit mechanically. Freddy played the flute herself, along with seven other girls and Hubert. Hubert just sort of existed, though most of the school tried to pretend he didn’t.
There were five minutes left in the class, and Freddy was thinking longingly of her bedroom and the dresser with which she intended to block the door to it, when a voice said into the pause left by the utter collapse of the music, “The only time I ever heard a less beautiful noise was in Russia at the bottom of a mine shaft, just be fore a mountain fell on my head. Of course, that sounded like the earth shrieking in unbearable agony.”
Freddy wondered if she was going to have to invent a word for the bemused silence that tended to result every time Josiah opened his mouth. Chin, who sat next to Freddy, leaned over and whispered, “Who’s he?” Freddy shrugged and hoped her face hadn’t gone too red.
“Oh, look at the time,” said Ms. Bains. “Pack up, everybody.” Freddy was sneakingly certain Ms. Bains was grateful to Josiah for bringing the class to a halt. She had heard last year that Ms. Bains had perfect pitch and talked a lot about wishing not to teach high school band classes any more.
“My flute is a moustache. Look, guys, it’s a moustache. Look at my big silver moustache,” Hubert was saying off on another plane of reality. Freddy only dimly registered the moment he dropped the flute on the floor.
On her way out of the classroom, Freddy saw Keith, who had grown so unexpectedly huge over the summer that he was threatening to dwarf his baritone tuba, bump into Josiah, sending him stumbling into the wall. It could have been an accident, but this was school. Freddy ducked her head and walked back to her locker without making eye contact with anybody.
*
She was halfway to the park on her way home from school when Josiah caught up with her. “You’re better at ditching people than anyone I’ve ever met,” he informed her, “and I live with Cuerva Lachance.”
Freddy sighed, checked to make sure no one was watching, and said, “Well, you have no survival skills.”
“I made it through the entire day without being hit or dunked in the toilet,” said Josiah. “That may be some sort of record.”
She stopped abruptly and turned to face him. “What do you want? Yesterday, you were pretending we didn’t exist. Why are you following me around?”
“I didn’t write the course schedule.” Josiah waggled his fingers irritably. Now that she was no longer desperate to avoid him, she was noticing the accent again. French, she thought, then decided it wasn’t.
“This isn’t on the course schedule,” said Freddy.
“I’ve become resigned to my fate,” Josiah told her and continued on down the sidewalk, slouching in what seemed to be vastly exaggerated exhaustion. When he looked away from her, she felt as if a powerful searchlight had been switched off. There was something very uncomfortable about being looked at by Josiah. She hesitated for a moment, then went after him.
Freddy said, “Why am I your fate?”
“You just are,” said Josiah. “I’m doomed to associate with you. It doesn’t make me happy, believe me. If I hang around with you, am I going to have to learn never to have any fun? May I at least make vicious fun of your friends?”
“Did I say you could hang around with me?”
“No. Are you going to say I can’t hang around with you?”
Freddy fully intended to reply, “Yes.” What came out was, “Not yet.”
“Ducklings,” said Josiah. “Even when you’re trying not to be a duckling, your duckling-like qualities peep out and quack.”
The sad thing, Freddy thought in exasperation, was that this was the friendliest conversation she’d had all day. Josiah was clearly insane, but he just as clearly knew that and had come to terms with it. It was possible that if she’d never had to go to school again, he would have made a decent friend. “I’ll stop being a duckling if you stop mentioning me loudly in front of crowds of people,” said Freddy.
“Done,” said Josiah, “but you won’t stop being a duckling. Notice how you’re tamely tagging after me as I walk around the park instead of across it, as you usually do. I don’t want to end up ankle-deep in mud, but you’re just waggling your fluffy little wings and scurrying along in my wake. Trundle along, duckling. We’ll be forced into each other’s company soon enough.” He made shooing motions at her until she stopped in place; then he continued rather primly along the sidewalk. Freddy stood and stared until Josiah rounded the corner, and the spell broke. How’d he know I usually walk across the park? thought Freddy. There didn’t seem much chance of an answer. More slowly than usual, she headed for home.
4
The knock on the kitchen door came as Freddy was just crossing the threshold into the hallway. She sighed. Ten seconds more and she would have been safely in her room. Mel would have had to abandon the regular Sunday assault on the Pleasure-Dome of Ixior or wherever and deal with whoever this was. Trying to shut out the yells of Marcus, who had just rolled a two and was not happy about it, Freddy opened the door.
Josiah was glaring at her out of two black eyes. The searchlight effect was slightly dampened, but only just. “I need to borrow some marbles,” he said.
Freddy stared at him. Someone in the other room let out a scream of what may have been delight.
“Marbles,” said Josiah. “You know … little round glass things? I don’t have any.”
“Why do you need them?” asked Freddy, reasonably enough, she thought.