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She sees me, smiles and waves. I wonder why and turn to see if someone is behind me. There are, two kids discussing math homework, but no one else. I turn back around. The girl walks towards me, smiling. I’ve never seen a girl so good-looking, much less spoken to one, and I’ve definitely never had one wave and smile as if we’re friends. I’m immediately nervous, and start blushing. But I’m also suspicious, as I’ve been trained to be. As she nears me, she lifts the camera and starts snapping pictures. I raise my hands to block my face. She lowers the camera and smiles.
“Don’t be shy. ”
“I’m not. Just trying to protect your lens. My face might break it. ”
She laughs. “With that scowl it might. Try smiling. ”
I smile, slightly. I’m so nervous I feel like I’m going to explode. I can feel my neck burning, my hands getting warm.
“That’s not a real smile,” she says, teasingly. “A smile involves showing your teeth. ”
I smile broadly and she takes pictures. I usually don’t allow anyone to take my picture. If it ended up on the internet, or in a newspaper, it would make finding me much easier. The two times it happened, Henri was furious, got hold of the pictures, and destroyed them. If he knew I was doing this now, I’d be in huge trouble. I can’t help it, though—this girl is so pretty and so charming. As she’s taking my picture, a dog comes running up to me. It’s a beagle with tan floppy ears, white legs and chest, a slender black body. He’s thin and dirty as if he’s been living on his own. He rubs against my leg, whines, tries to get my attention. The girl thinks it’s cute and has me kneel down so she can take a picture of me with the dog. As soon as she starts snapping shots, he backs away. Whenever she tries again, he moves farther away. She finally gives up and shoots a few more of me. The dog sits about thirty feet away watching us.
“Do you know that dog?” she asks.
“Never seen him before. ”
“He sure likes you. You’re John, right?”
She holds out her hand.
“Yeah. ” I say. “How’d you know?”
“I’m Sarah Hart. My mother is your real-estate agent. She told me you’d probably be starting school today, and I should look out for you. You’re the only new kid to show up today. ”
I laugh. “Yeah, I met your mom. She was nice. ”
“You gonna shake my hand?”
She’s still holding her hand out. I smile and take it, and it is literally one of the best feelings I’ve ever had.
“Wow,” she says.
“What?”
“Your hand feels hot. Really hot, like you have a fever or something. ”
“I don’t think so. ”
She lets go.
“Maybe you’re just warm-blooded. ”
“Yeah, maybe. ”
A bell rings in the distance and Sarah tells me that it’s the warning bell. We have five minutes to get to class. We say good-bye and I watch her walk away. A moment later, something hits the back of my elbow. I turn and a group of football players, all wearing letterman jackets, sweep by me. One of them is glaring at me and I realize that he hit me with his backpack as he walked past. I doubt it was an accident and I start to follow them. I know I’m not going to do anything, even though I could. I just don’t like bullies. As I do, the kid in the NASA shirt walks next to me.
“I know you’re new, so I’ll fill you in,” he says.
“On what?” I ask.
“That’s Mark James. He’s a big deal around here. His dad is the town sheriff and he’s the star of the football team. He used to date Sarah, when she was a cheerleader, but she quit cheerleading and dumped him. He hasn’t gotten over it. I wouldn’t get involved if I were you. ”
“Thanks. ”
The kid hurries away. I make my way to the principal’s office so I can register for classes and get started. I turn and look back to see if the dog is still around. He is, sitting in the same spot, watching me.
The principal’s name is Mr. Harris. He’s fat and mostly bald, except for a few long hairs at the back and sides of his head. His belly reaches over his belt. His eyes are small and beady, set too close together. He grins at me from across the desk, and his smile seems to swallow his eyes.
“So you’re a sophomore from Santa Fe?” he asks.
I nod, say yes even though we’ve never been to Santa Fe, or New Mexico, for that matter. A simple lie to keep from being traced.
“That explains the tan. What brings you to Ohio?”
“My dad’s job. ”
