A chorus of “yeah” and “totally” swept through the group. Most of the other girls were dressed like Bridget, in T-shirts, cutoff jean shorts over ripped leggings, and Doc Martens boots. Skater girls. We’d had a group of them in my old school. They hung out on the steps after school, practicing turns and jumps on their boards.
“That chick’s had it coming to her for a long time,” said a short girl next to Bridget. “It’s about time someone put her in her place.” She tugged on one of her ponytails, which stuck out from underneath her black baseball hat. The front of her T-shirt read GRAVITY IS A TERRIBLE THING TO WASTE. I looked away, unsure how to respond.
“What’d you do, exactly?” Bridget asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You know she sprained her wrist, right?” Bridget asked.
I spotted Delia approaching the front doors. She opened one of them and walked in the building. For a split second, we locked eyes, and then she looked away again. “No, I didn’t know that.”
“Oh yeah,” Bridget said. “It probably got twisted or something when you guys went flying over the art table. Or did you do something to her after that?”
“I don’t know.” Delia walked past us quickly, and I glanced over as she turned the corner. Her shoulders were slumped, and her head hung down low between them. I looked back over at Bridget, who was still waiting eagerly to hear my side of the story. “I don’t really remember,” I said. “It all happened pretty fast. It’s kind of a blur now.”
Bridget nodded. “You should sit with us today at lunch.” She glanced around the group as I hesitated. “I mean, if you don’t have anyone to sit with. Just saying.”
“Yeah, okay.” I shifted my backpack along my shoulder and lifted a hand as I headed down the hall. Delia was nowhere to be seen. “Thanks. Maybe I will.”
All the students in my homeroom stopped talking as soon as I walked in. Half of them were clustered around Michelle, who sat at a desk near the window. She was using her left hand, which was wrapped in an ACE bandage, to gesture wildly as she spoke, but she froze when she saw me. With her arm raised in front of her, she got up from her chair and stood there for a moment, glaring in my direction.
“I don’t want any trouble,” I said quickly.
“It’s a little late for that.” Her voice was cold. Hateful. It reminded me of Mr. Carder’s. “You sprained my wrist—did you know that? I had to go to the hospital and get X-rays. Two of my tendons are twisted.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well, my mom wants you to know that if you ever come near me again, she’s going to make sure you get kicked out of this school. For good this time.”
“Like I said, I don’t want any more trouble.”
“You better not, if you know what’s good for you.” Michelle sneered at me. “Fred. Is that really your name, by the way?”
I sat down at one of the desks and tried to ignore her.
“Lemme guess.” Michelle hyena-laughed. “It was the only name your mother could spell, right?”
I could feel heat rise in my face. I wanted to smack her, to take her stupid hand and bend it in the other direction so that her wrist would break this time. I didn’t care. Let them kick me out. I didn’t need school. I didn’t need …
She’s just dumb. But you, Fred. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met. The rapid-fire thoughts began to sputter out as I heard Delia’s voice in my head. You’re smart and you’re funny and you’re strong.
I took a deep breath and leveled my eyes at Michelle Palmer. “I’m done playing with you.” I unzipped my backpack and pulled out a blue notebook and a pencil. “Leave me alone.” I opened the notebook and smoothed my hand over a blank page. I’d had an idea on the bus that morning about the sculpture. Now was as good a time as any to try sketching it out.
“Playing?” Michelle put a hand on her hip. “What’re you, stupid? Do you seriously think I’m playing here?”
Two lines here, and another few over there. Maybe an arch over the top. Did I need to connect the middle section with anything? Maybe it would be better if I started with a base. Something like a foundation that would shore everything else up. Keep it from tipping over.
Michelle took a few steps toward me. She bent over and pressed her index finger in the middle of my notebook page. “This isn’t over,” she whispered. “Just so you know. This isn’t even close to being over.” She stood back up as the teacher walked into the room, but I could still hear her muttering under her breath. Probably about what a jerk I was and how she was going to do whatever it took to get even with me. But I wasn’t worried. She couldn’t win against someone who wouldn’t play her game.
I looked down at my page again. The image staring back at me was rough. One side was much bigger than the other, and most of the bottom half was missing. Drawing was definitely not one of my strengths. But even with all the rough edges, it was fun to try to put all the stuff I’d gathered at Margery’s together. Rearranging the shapes on paper felt like working on a puzzle or solving a math problem. If I could just focus on what I had instead of what I didn’t, like Delia’s law of subtraction, I had a feeling an idea for the sculpture would come to me.
I sketched more quickly, a new excitement thrumming through my fingers.
If there was an animal inside me, it was roaring a little less loudly.
It might even be stretching out now, wrapping its long tail around its haunches, resting its head down between its paws, and closing its eyes.
But it didn’t stay quiet for long.
On the way into my fourth-period math class, I tripped on my shoelace and dropped my textbook. When I stooped down to get it, a flash of army green across the hall caught my eye. It was Delia, sitting at a desk, right by the door. She had her hands folded in her lap and her head tucked down low against her chest like she was waiting for something. Or someone.
I glanced at the sign above the door: MRS. ISKRA: 7TH GRADE SCIENCE.
Michelle and Renee were walking down the hall toward me. I stood all the way back up and straightened my shoulders. Michelle waved goodbye to Renee and sneered at me as she headed into the science room. I stood there, frozen to the spot, as she walked over to Delia and jammed a finger into her shoulder.
Come on, Delia. Lift your head. Stand up.
But Delia’s head sank lower as Michelle bent down close to her ear. I could only imagine the terrible things Michelle was saying.
Now, Delia! I thought to myself. Come on! Don’t just sit there and take it! Do it now!
Delia clapped her hands over her ears and leaned away from her.
I lurched forward, ready to shove my way in between them, to tell Michelle once and for all to leave Delia alone. But just at that moment, Michelle straightened up and turned around to look at me.
If you ever come near me again, my mom is going to make sure you get kicked out of this school. For good this time.
Her eyes glittered. The small smile on her face might have been one of the ugliest things I’d ever seen.
But I skidded to a stop.
Michelle knew that being mean to Delia would get under my skin. Maybe even hurt me as much as it hurt Delia. But she also knew that I wouldn’t risk getting thrown out of school by doing something about it. Because if I did, it would mean Delia would be left here all alone to fend for herself. And from the looks of things, she wasn’t going to be standing up to Michelle anytime soon.
I wasn’t sure what I should do about it. But maybe that wasn’t important. Maybe what mattered now was that Delia knew I was still here.
And that—at least for right now—I wasn’t going anywhere.
I headed straight for the science room after the bell rang, but Delia wasn’t inside. I glanced up and down the hallway, catching a flash of her blond hair as she disappeared around a corner. She was running, one hand trailing along the wall, as if she might fall over otherwise. I dropped my books on the floor and ran after her.
“Delia!
” I snatched her by the sleeve as I caught up to her. “Please stop. Just hold on a minute.”
She shook my hand off. Her breath came in gasps, and her cheeks were pink with large white spots in the middle.
“Delia.” I trotted next to her. “Come on, what’re you doing? You’re not going to talk to me at all now?”
“I don’t … really have … anything to say.”
“Can you slow down? Just for a minute? What’d Michelle say to you at the beginning of science class?”
She stopped when I said that. Her nostrils flared. “How do you know she said something to me?”
“I was across the hall. I have math with Miss Bee. I saw Michelle jab you in the shoulder and then lean over and say something in your ear. What was it?”
“Nothing.” Delia started walking again.
“Delia, come on, that’s not true. Tell me what she said.”
“She didn’t say anything. Leave me alone, Fred. I mean it.”
“What’s the matter with you?” I grabbed her by the elbow again, hoping she would stop walking. “Why are you acting like I’m—”
“Stop grabbing me!” The three words burst out of her mouth. “I told you to leave me alone!”
“There!” I stamped my foot. “Right there! You totally just got mad and stood up for yourself! Now, why can you do that—why can you yell at me like that and not Michelle?”
“Because you’re leaving!” Delia burst out. “Okay? I don’t have to care if I yell at you because you’re leaving to go back to your mom in Philadelphia and I’ll never see you again! But Michelle isn’t going anywhere. I have to go to school with her for the next five years.” Her voice quavered. “And if I get her mad, I’ll have to spend the next five years trying to make it all right again. Okay? Do you get it now?”
“Delia …” I reached for her hand.
“No,” she said, turning away from me. “This isn’t about you anymore, Fred. It’s about me. So just leave me alone. I’ll figure it out.”
I didn’t say anything else as she walked away from me. Not because I didn’t want to, but because there was nothing left to say.
Nothing at all.
For the rest of that week, I sat with Bridget and the other skater girls during lunch. They were friendly enough, and whenever Michelle saw me with them, she turned around and headed in the opposite direction. I wasn’t sure if she had a history with them, too, but I was glad for the space. I wasn’t going to let my guard down entirely, but for now at least, it was nice to have a chance to take a breath again.
Delia was a whole other story. Every day, as I walked into math, I saw Michelle jab her in the shoulder as she walked into the science lab. Every day, Delia just ducked her head and slumped down farther in her seat. I saw her in art class, but she sat by herself in a corner of the room, far from Michelle and even farther from me, doodling on a piece of paper. I didn’t see her once in the cafeteria, and when I went to look for her in the bathrooms, they were empty.
On Thursday, when she was absent from art class and there was still no sign of her in the cafeteria, I asked the skater girls about her. “Do you guys know that girl Delia?”
“Delia who?” Bridget asked through a mouthful of French fries. “I don’t know anyone named Delia.”
“Ardelia,” I said. “Ardelia Lark.”
Gina, the tiny one with the stubby blond pigtails, laughed as she leaned over the table. “You mean Lardvark?”
I stiffened. “Don’t call her that.”
“Everyone calls her that,” Gina shot back. “She made it up.”
“She made it up?” I repeated.
“Yeah.” Gina shrugged. “At least the aardvark part. Back in fifth grade. We were all doing a project in science on African animals and she picked the aardvark. She said it sounded like her name. She even mentioned it in the essay she read in front of the class.” Gina made air quotes with her fingers. “ ‘Ard-vark.’ Ardelia Lark. Get it?”
“Yeah, but aardvark is one thing,” I said. “Who added the L to it?”
“Three guesses,” Gina said.
“Michelle?”
Gina nodded. “During gym. Same day. Michelle just walked up to her and said how perfect it was that she’d picked the aardvark to do her report on because she herself was actually a lardvark. And that was going to be her new nickname. Lardvark.”
“And …” I opened my hands, palms up. “What’d Delia say?”
“She didn’t say anything. She just laughed.”
Of course she laughed, I thought to myself. When it came to Delia, there was nothing she wouldn’t do to keep herself out of a frightening situation.
“Why are you asking about her anyway?” Bridget crammed a few more fries into her mouth. “Are you guys friends?”
I shouldn’t have hesitated. I should have just said yes, that we were friends, that I’d shared more with Delia in the last week than I’d probably shared with anyone. Anywhere. But I didn’t. Even worse, I lied through my teeth. “No, but I have art class with her, and she mentioned something about doing that big project with me. You know the one with all the bottle caps?”
“Ugh,” said Gina. “Shoot me now. Like making a stupid collage out of bottle caps is going to turn me into an artist. I don’t know what Mrs. Baranski is thinking.”
“She wants you to work with her?” Bridget asked.
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “And I was just wondering if you guys knew anything about her. That’s all.”
“She’s kind of a loner,” Bridget said. “At least from what I can tell. She keeps to herself.”
“She skips a ton of school, too,” said a girl named Lenore. Her spiky black hair stood up on top of her head like the teeth of a comb. “I think she was out half the semester last year.”
“Why?” I asked.
Lenore shrugged. “I don’t know. Never asked her.”
But I had asked her.
And I knew exactly why.
On Friday, Mrs. Iskra brought up the test for the Quiz Bowl, which she was going to give next week after school. “It’s a difficult test,” she warned us. “But that’s only because the bowl itself is difficult, and we want to make sure we have the strongest teams possible.” Her eyes swept over the room as she put her hands on her hips. “Don’t bother doing this if you don’t have the time to study, or the motivation to win. I’m only interested in serious contenders.”
I ducked my head as students began raising their hands. Mrs. Iskra nodded at each one and then wrote down their names.
“How about you, Winifred?” she asked, finishing up. “I noticed you just scored very well on the cloud and atmosphere test.”
“No, thanks.” My voice was barely audible.
“May I ask why?” Mrs. Iskra had a square chin that rose up into a wide, round forehead. It reminded me of a cupcake.
“It’s … um, it isn’t really my thing.”
Mrs. Iskra pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “I think you might do very well on the test.”
I kept my eyes down until I was sure she was finished, and exhaled as she turned around. I wondered if Delia was still going to take the test to qualify for the math team. I wished I could ask her.
But the way things were going, even if she could, I was pretty sure she wouldn’t give me an answer.
I fell into a pretty regular routine for a while, coming home from school and taking Toby over to the park, where we’d work on his call recognition commands. Man, he was a smart dog. It didn’t take him long to figure out that the words “Come, Toby!” meant that he would get a kibble. By the following week, he was coming back even without the kibble, and by the following Wednesday, Margery said I could let him run behind the house for the first time without a leash. “But don’t wait too long to call him,” she warned. “He’s gotten used to hearing the command only inside the tennis courts. You don’t want to confuse him by letting him go too far without hearing it again.”
My h
eart was in my throat as I knelt down next to him that afternoon. I talked to him quietly, smoothing my hand over the top of his head. “I’m going to let you run now, Tobes. For real.” I pointed to the empty field between Margery’s house and the woods. “You can go as fast as you want out there. Run like crazy. But you gotta come back when I call you, okay? Just like we’ve been doing. You promise?”
Toby turned his head at the question in my voice. He whimpered a little, like he was asking me how much longer I was going to make him wait.
“Promise me, now.” I stroked his head again.
He stopped whimpering and stared at me with his big, round eyes. He pushed his nose into the side of my arm.
I leaned over and kissed the bald spot on top of his head. “Okay, buddy. Here we go.” He didn’t notice that I’d unhooked his leash, and for a moment, he just sat there, his haunches quivering as he watched a bird swoop overhead. It wasn’t until I leaned in close to his little half ear and said, “Go on, Toby, go run!” that he took off.
He streaked over the ground, his front and back feet moving so fast that they faded and then blurred altogether. I couldn’t help but laugh as he darted this way and that, then stopped abruptly as something caught his attention, only to pick his head up and dash off again. He looked so happy. So free. Like the dog he was meant to be, instead of someone’s property.
But it was time. I could feel my heart speed up as I dipped my fingers inside my pocket for a few kibbles. I took a deep breath and cupped my hand around my mouth. “Come, Toby!”
He was in the middle of another run, racing east this time, but he swerved when he heard my voice and flew back across the field. My knees buckled as I realized he was coming back to me, and I sank to the ground and caught him, all in the same movement. “Good boy, Toby!” I said. “Oh, you’re such a good, good boy.”
After Toby had gotten his exercise, we’d go back inside Margery’s workshop, and I would do my homework while he poked around in the corners and sniffed everything he could reach. Sometimes he would lie down at the foot of my stool while I worked. Margery still wouldn’t let him in the house unless she was home; she was worried that he would knock things over or start chewing on the furniture, but I didn’t mind staying with him in the workshop until she got back. I preferred it, actually; the small heater warmed everything up, and it was less spooky than being alone inside the house.
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