“Lay off him,” I mutter.

The Irish kid steps in front of me and crosses his arms. “What did ya say?”

“I said leave him alone.”

I’m getting mad now, and this kid doesn’t like my attitude one bit. He peers out from under thick eyebrows. “Why don’t ya make me? The way I heard it, this was a free country an’ I could say whatever I want.”

“It is, and I can say whatever I want too, and I say don’t insult my friend.”

He glares at me. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, and I can also ask why a kid of your young age has what looks like stubble on your chin!”

Spade sputters. “Wh—wh—tha—it’s just a shadow!”

“Doesn’t look like a shadow to me.”

“Doesn’t look like a shadow to me either,” Taylor puts in.

“You shut up!” Spade snaps.

“Okay....” Taylor ducks behind me again.

“It doesn’t matter anyway, kid!” Spade barks at my face. “I could lick ya from here to the schoolhouse—”

I laugh. “You’re like half my height!” The kid’s red face reminds me of a tomato—a tomato that’s a bit more frightening than the ones Mom tries to sneak into my salads. His big muscles bulge under his shirt, but I’m on a roll here. I’m not about to stop my comeback.

So I spit out the first thing that comes into my head. “You’re nothing but a grouchy, squawking, bearded dwarf!”

Uh-oh... His face turns from a tomato into a plumb.

“Oh my gosh, look!” I yell, pointing at nothing. “Free Coke and cookies!”

“Where?”

With his attention diverted, I grab Taylor’s arm and bolt towards school.

“Where—I do like a small snack before—Hey! Get back here!”

Taylor pants as we race down the sidewalk.

“What if he catches up to us?” He gasps.

“His legs are the size of flower pots. It would be like trying to outrun an elephant. Why are you so scared of him anyway? You’re twice his size.”

“Yeah but he’s...” He winces. “Denser. Besides he just... I just don’t like something about him. I don’t know. He was going to take my hat!”

Slowing to a jog, then a walk, I take a minute to catch my breath before grinning at my friend. “Don’t worry, Taylor, he can’t take your hat. That’s my job...”

I reach for his hat, but he wraps both arms around it again with a moan. “No—Harry, seriously!”

I laugh at his over-anxious face. “Okay. Fine.”

When we pass the Salvation Army, I pause. Taylor looks questioningly at me. “Why are we stopping?”

“Mom told me to drop off some clothes. They’re all ripped.”

“Oh, I can patch them.”

“I didn’t know you could sew.” I slip off my backpack and pull my PJ’s out in a wad. “You sure you can patch these?”

“Oh yeah. Easy.” I hand them over, and he slides his oversized backpack off and unzips it. “I’ve been in Mom’s sewing basket since I was two.”

“Thanks...”

When we get to school, I jog to the door, pull it open, and swing in, sweeping the hall with my eyes. Lily isn’t here. Taylor jogs off to his locker, and as I make my way to mine, the students who even glance at me do it with a weirded-out expression or whisper to each other. It’s no secret around school that I break things, and as soon as I started reading for fun, the label “nerd” was thrown around. Now, I just kind of ignore everyone except Lily. She seems like she would understand me.

Heading to my locker as slowly as possible, I peer in each room I pass. No sign of that rippling black hair.

When I get to class, she’s not there either.

I slump behind my desk and stick my ear buds in, turning up the volume on “Walk the Moon,” and wonder where she could be.

Finally, I see the angelic body of the most popular girl in school stride through the doors. Lily glides into the classroom, her signature maxi skirt skimming the ground.

“Sorry I’m late.” She sighs, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I tripped getting off the bus and lost my backpack.”

The teacher nods at her and lets her sit down without so much as a late slip. She never gets in trouble for anything, which would be really annoying if it was anyone else, but it just makes sense with her somehow.

She takes her usual seat beside Troy.

I sigh under my breath. Ever since fourth grade, I’ve wanted her to notice me, but I’ve never been able to bring myself to even talk to her. Ever since fourth grade, she’s always sat next to Troy. That tall, dark football star. Never without his cool sunglasses, ball cap, and hoodie. You’d think he was afraid of the sun.

“Okay, class,” Mr. Carson begins, tapping his pen against his hand. “Today we’re talking about multiplication.” I roll my eyes. Not another review. Last year, I didn’t learn something new until basically the last week of school.

Since I know what I’m going to learn anyway, I just take the opportunity to stare at Lily for the rest of the class.

When the bell rings, we pack our stuff as fast as we can.

It’s halfway through the school day, and nothing “interesting” has happened with me. In fact, nothing interesting ever happens to me. I hope Mom and Dad are proud.

At lunch, as usual, Lily heads to a table with Troy. I half consider following, then growl at my own stupidity and turn instead to the table with the kids who can’t make friends, when I bump face-first into Owen and spill my Coke on him.

“Uhhh. Sorry.”

He just stares at me. Six-foot-three with a totally blank face, blank clothes, blank slate—I never would’ve even known Owen existed if I hadn’t bumped into him on another occasion. That time, he was behind the bleachers, rifling through another student’s backpack. At which point he’d just kind of stared at me and said, “What are you doing here?”

I would’ve asked him the same thing, except that it was midnight, and I really didn’t have any business being behind the bleachers myself. I was just going for a nightly stroll. I know that’s not something most people consider fun or even safe, but I just feel more awake at night.

I didn’t really want him asking me a million questions that I had no answer to, so I just kind of shrugged and left, but ever since that night, I’ve been watching the suspiciously invisible guy who creeps me out more and more every day.

“Sorry,” I sputter. “I didn’t mean to-”

Again I find myself wishing someone would just yell at me. He just stares, but it’s different than what Mom does. His stare says, “Get lost, kid,” which is what I wish he would just up and say, instead of staring death and thunderstorms into my soul.

He finally walks past me, and I make my way to my table, where Taylor’s already sitting. He points past me when I get there. “Harry, do you know whose backpack that is?”

“Who? What? Where?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder.

He leans toward me like it’s a secret. “The one Owen’s wearing.”

“I dunno. Probably his.”

Taylor’s confused face makes it look like I said something stupid. “It’s Lily’s! Owen must’ve taken it when she tripped off the bus this morning! Didn’t you notice she didn’t bring it to class? Boy, that guy’s got guts messing with Troy’s girl.”

A pale-skinned emo girl with a black choker comes to our table with her tray of food and snorts at our talk. “Troy won’t get it back from that creep.” She bites her roll with a vengeance. “No one goes near Owen. Troy might be strong, but he’s not punk enough to take on that haunt.”

This is the problem with me: I’ve never been good at having a healthy sense of fear. Mom calls it foolish, Dad calls it dangerous, and Mr. Prudence, the principal, calls it stupid. All I know is, I kinda like to do stuff that seems scary, especially to get stuff I want.

I’m usually rather compliant, but sometimes this animalistic boldness takes over and makes me feel brave, like I’m not a total loser—which is kind of a cool feeling, so I let it come.

I get up from the table with determination.

“Harry, are you nuts? Stop it!”

Oh, yeah, Taylor calls it nuts.

I ignore my friend and keep my eyes on Owen and stalk toward him. I gotta keep him in my sight. It’s hard, the way he weaves through the crowd, so smooth and hunched over.

I’m getting that backpack, and getting it back to Lily. Maybe then she’ll notice me, and who knows? Maybe the rest of the students will stop looking at me like I’m a total weirdo.

I lose sight of him in the sea of students filing through the hall. No, no, no! The people blur around me, but my focus is on one thing. Owen and that backpack... I smell something, like a strong, sweet leather and scented soap. I follow the smell, pushing people out of the way. It’s a hunt. I’m not backing down. I don’t bother apologizing as I shoulder my way through the kids.

I’m in an empty classroom. There’s Owen at the back, in front of the whiteboard with the backpack... He unzips it, and takes out a tool skirt and T-shirt, dropping them on the floor, then he pulls out a snorkel mask and a fuzzy fish key-chain. He drops them on the floor with a pack of postcards to the Caribbean.

He steps on the skirt and postcards with his muddy shoes, and I growl. “Hey, Owen...” My voice is low and intense. I didn’t even know it could do that. Voice changing is weird. I’m just lucky it didn’t crack.

He laughs thinly and lifts the postcards in a wad. “This stuff isn’t important, Harry. Back off.” There’s a fish-shaped locket, and he drops it on the floor. It lands on the hard linoleum and cracks. I lunge forward.

I’m on his back. Was that his scream or mine? My arm grips his throat while the other pulls the backpack from his hand. “Let go!” I growl.

“Chill, Harry...” He hisses, swinging me from his back. I smack the hard floor, still holding the backpack strap. My head buzzes. “It’s not yours!” I say. I jump at him and knock him to the ground. “Leave her stuff alone!”

I think I ram into him and grab his hair. He scrambles away from me, but I grab his arm, screaming at him. His fist stubbornly clings to the backpack, but his face is white, the coward. I growl and jump onto his back again. He yells, swings his fist at my head, and I black out.

I open my eyes. I’m lying in the empty classroom. Owen’s gone, and it looks like he’s overturned desks and thrown one against the wall. There are scratches in the paint on the wall, and the backpack is still there on the floor. I rub my aching neck and sit up.

My vision’s foggy for a minute, then I turn to the muddied pile of Lily’s stuff and look at the broken locket. There’s a gash on my arm that looks a lot like a bite... What the heck? Did Owen do that?

I poke at the locket and the wrinkled Caribbean postcards... This doesn’t look good.

My stomach turns sick. I should just go and get an adult to handle this, but they’ll think I did it... I just wanted to prove myself to Lily... I hear voices in the hall and jump away from Lily’s ruined stuff and toward the classroom window, trying desperately to get it open. I rattle it hard, but the stupid window won’t unlatch!

The classroom doorknob turns behind me.