Henry doesn't show up for history. He doesn't show up for math. His desk stays empty, and everyone wants to know what happened between him and the witch. Mary McKenzie thinks the witch cursed him to disappear as punishment. Arthur thinks that's stupid and pushes her back to her friends. We have a spelling test. Halfway through it, the door opens and Mr. Strong pokes his face in. “Sorry, Ms. Lewis. The principal needs to see Charlie.”

The class “oooo”s and looks at me. Ms. Lewis shushes them all. I stand up and my pencil rolls off my desk. I pick it back up, but I know I've mispelled “athlete” from looking at Duncan's test. My stomach hurts and I hold my hands together to stop fidgeting. The door closes before I can look back. The door has a glass window that's like frost's eaten the whole thing. Shadows move but I can't really see anything.

“Am I in trouble?”

“No, Charlie. Mr. Ryan just has a few questions for you.” The hallways are empty, and the floor is shiny. There's a dark border around it. Downstairs by the front doors, the floor is tiled and complicated and colorful. It's pretty. Mr. Strong walks quietly, his arms at his sides, and doesn't show me his face.

I still can't help feeling like I'm in trouble. A couple older kids see me walking with Mr. Strong. It's embarrassing. Maybe that's not the right word.

Mr. Strong opens the door to the office. The principal's office has a window looking down towards the railroad. It's dull and carpeted and the light on his desk shines gold. There are no curtains. There's a bookshelf and two chairs. Mr. Ryan smiles at me before holding his hand out for me to take a seat. Mr. Ryan's face is serious and wrinkled, and he has a thin mustache. He's always dressed in a brown suit and green striped tie. I think he doesn't have any other clothes.

“Good morning, Charlie,” he says, and his voice grates the same way gravel under your shoe does. It makes me more nervous. “Take a seat.”

I do. “Did I do something?”

“No, Charlie. What makes you say that?”

“Only bad kids see you.”

He laughs at that, and it makes me a little mad. “You're not in trouble, Charlie. I promise. I just had some questions for you.”

“But I'm not in trouble?”

“No.”

I let out a big breath. I nod.

“Charlie, you and Henry Walker are friends, right?”

I nod. “He's my best friend.”

“Best friends are really lovely things.” He says it weird. “Lovely” is a flower or a pretty girl. “Best friends” aren't “lovely”. I don't know the word for it. Mr. Ryan sits down behind the desk and straightens out some paperwork before putting it to the side. “How long have you known him?”

“For forever.” Momma says I was friends with him right when they moved in. Momma and Papa became friends with Mr. and Mrs. Walker, and Henry and I became friends, too. We were four. I have other friends, but Henry is the best. He's the one I like the most. He makes sense to me, but I think that might be because I've known him so long, like how Momma knows how to work the boiler at our house when Papa's not free.

Mr. Ryan nods. The smile on his face hides something, and it makes me feel sad. Uncomfortable. “Did you two...fight?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Did something happen between you two?”

~