ribcage and return to its normal rhythm.
Consuela, similarly satisfied, wrapped her arm around his shoulders and started introducing him around. From that moment on, Vadim didnât care about skipping another grade, transferring schools, or what his Decanometry teacher thoughtof him. Heâd found a community, and thatâfor now, at leastâwas all that mattered.
Between fourth and fifth periods, I looked up in the hallway and saw Batesâs staff drifting above the crowd. I worked up the courage to approach him about it.
âHey, Bates,â I said, flashing him my friendliest smile. âGood to see you all freshly re-staffed. How you doinâ?â
He threw me against the closest locker. The metal slits dug into my spinal cord. His forearm tightened like a knot around my Adamâs apple, and I felt the staff wedged in the unbearably narrow area between my ear and the rest of my head.
âIâm sorry,â he said. âYou want to run that by me again??â
I winced. When someone squashes your neck from the front, your first instinct, no matter what, is to pull back. Even if pulling back means digging yourself even harder into a sharply molded locker with jagged points that push hard into your skin, more painful than your assailantâs choking hold.
â Mister Bates!â came the familiar monotone of Dr. Mayhewâs voice from down the hall. âWeâve received those Freedom of Religion pamphlets for you from the ACLU. Congratulations again on your recent victoryâ¦â
The tone of his voice deepened, got lower and grew more suspicious as he saw Bates holding me in such a compromising position. But Batesâs hold loosened as he turned around and I managed to slip out and duck into the oncoming tide of students. I massaged my neck, looking around to see whether anyone had noticed the newest assault on my dignity.
Then I heard a squeal and turned to see the girlsâ soccerteam waving at me. The bitter taste in my mouth suddenly tasted a lot like candy.
The first day or two of being popularâno, letâs not get ahead of ourselves. The first day of not looking like a punching bag was pretty dizzyingly amazing. After that, it was just dizzying. Wednesday afternoon, I spotted Sajit coming out of the girlsâ bathroom, surrounded by a throng of stomach-sucking soccerâteam girls, all bouncing in one communal laugh. He caught my eye, twisted out of the crowd, and matched my pace.
â Juuu piter,â he crooned in that way only he said my name. âI keep hearing all these things about you, man. How come itâs all in the third person?â
âWhich third person?â
âFrom other people, you fnord. Youâre quite the celebrity, you know. Your name is on the girlsâ bathroom wall. Youâve officially become one of the popular kids.â
I grinned. I couldnât help it, I was really impressed with myself. âReally? What does it say?â
âOh, nothing. Just a phone number that isnât really yours. But how are you doing? How does it feel?â
The grin flickered for a second. Sajit noticed it; not much slipped beneath his radar. âWhat does that mean?â
âWellâ¦â I hesitated. I couldnât help itâI never liked to spoil a surprise, or to point out that part in the movie where you could see the overhead microphone, and I felt way guilty questioning my blessings.
He nodded me on.
âItâs great that Iâm not getting laughed at by the those kids anymore,â I said. âBut, since when did I ever start liking them?â
We both stopped in our tracks. It was a difficult question, and a valid one.
But Sajit had always been the master of positive thinking. Ever since first grade, when he tore open the ice packs that we nursed our black eyes with and discovered that you could suck the ice, he had his own way of looking at things. âDonât knock the
Alice Ward, Jessica Blake