Chapter 1

Sometimes I don't why I am here. When I think about it, I know that I am not much different than the people around me. I am made up of the same materials, I have the same shape, the same thoughts. But somehow, I am still unwelcome in this world. Perhaps I am just an outcast by nature, shunned from society by some kind of predecided whim. Maybe they see something that I don't.

But I still feel as if there is somewhere out there, somewhere I belong. Somewhere out there is some one who will love me for who I am no matter what I say or do. But not here. And here is where I must stay, trapped in this bitter room where the heavy air is suffocating and the darkness in the corner swallows up anything near it. And that is where I stay, in the corner of my mind, hoping that one day it might swallow me up. It never does.

Every day I have to go through the motion of living. It's cowardly, I know, to pretend that everything is going right when the total opposite is taking control of my life. My parents don't suspect a thing. Every morning I wake up and shower, brush my teeth, brush my choppy blue hair, glance at my pale skin and green eyes in the mirror, and go downstairs for breakfast. A daily routine that leaves me feeling empty.

I go to school where I am invisible, where I follow through the motions of being a straight-A student. Where it is all a routine. Every day is the same, and nothing happens.

Until today. I walk into my home room class, which is 11th grade English, and find that a girl is sitting in my seat. I've never seen her before. She had long, black hair down to her waist, and dark eyes and skin. She had a pair of silver-rimmed rectangular glasses perched on the bridge of her thin nose, and asmall moleon her left earlobe. She wore a long-sleeve white t-shirt and muddy bell-bottoms. On her slim feet were a pair of brown flip-flops. At first glance I thought she was African-American, but it then occured to me that she must Native American. Her skin was too light -- her lips too thin.

After a moment of staring at her, I walked over to her. "Excuse me," I muttered quietly, staring at my sneakers.

She turned and looked up at me. Her eyes were brown. "Hn?"

"Um. That's actually...my seat," I said, my eyes still averted. I shuffled my feet uncomfortably and awkwardly.

"Oh," she said in her smooth voice. "Then is there an empty seat I can sit in?"

I glanced up at the front of the classroom. "The seat in front of Mrs. Aligen's desk is always empty," I replied.

"Thank you," she said with a smile. She shouldered her blue bag and started for the desk. Then she stopped suddenly and turned back to me. "Hey, my name is Keme. It means 'secret' from the Algonquin indians. What's yours?"

"Um," I blushed. No one's talked to me this much throughout the whole school year. Didn't anyone give her the memo that no one talks to me unless it's absolutely necessary? "Um. I'm Athanasios. It's Greek for 'immortal'." Maybe I'm shunned because of my name....

"...ool," Keme said something I missed while I had that thought.

"What?" I asked, panicking because I missed what she said.

"I said that your name is cool," she repeated, still smiling.

"Oh," I sighed.

"Athanasios?" she said.

"Yes," I replied. She was the first person to ever say my name right on the first try. She's pretty smart to be able to that."

"...with you?"

"Ah, what?" I snapped back to attention. She gave a look. "Sorry. I zone out a lot..."

"That's okay," she laughed. A beautiful laugh, like water running down the rocks. "I asked if it was all right if I could hang out with you at lunch."

"Oh. Uh," I frowned. How should I put this? She was looking at me expectantly, waiting for an answer. I said the first thing that came to my mind, the first thing that would drive some one away: "I'm an Untouchable."

"What?" she frowned in confusion. Her nose wrinkled as her eyebrows knotted together.

Well, that would drive some one away in India. "Uh, what I mean is, no one is really supposed to hang out with me."

"Why not?"

"That -- is a good question," I replied. Mrs.Aligen walked into the room. I quickly plopped down into my chair along with the rest of the class and I hissed at Keme to go sit down, too. She did, just before Mrs. Aligen turned around to overlook us students.

"Ah, I see we have a new student today," Mrs. Aligen stated in her bold, loud voice. She was dressed in her slate grey business suit as always, her permed blonde hair was tied up in a bun. Her watery brown eyes took hold of Keme. "You must be the governor's daughter," she mused.

"Yes, ma'am," replied Keme quickly, her hands folded neatly on her desk in front of her.

"Well," droned Mrs. Aligen, "I should warn you that I expect a lot from you, Miss Burns. I expect you to do much better than most of the students in this class, with the exception of Mr. Hallow. I doubt even I could surpass him asa student." She turned back to the board to write the day's assignment on it. I felt everyone but Keme's eyes bore into my skull with hate and jealousy. It's not my fault I have a lot of free time to study.

Chapter 2

At lunch, I usually sit under the tree in the school yard and read a book. Keme was waiting for me.

"Hey," she greeted with a smile.

"Um. Hi," I replied. This girl was starting to make me uncomfortable. I mean, it was okay for her to talk to me when I kicked her out of my seat, but there are over a hundred girls at this school that she can "hang out" with. Why hasn't anyone told she's supposed to stay away from me? And why aren't the boys clamoring over her yet? She's the governor's daughter!

"Can we talk?" she asked.

"Sure," I replied, unable to think of a good excuse to get away from her. Where else would I go, anyway?

I sat down with her in the shade of the large oak tree. Keme drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her tan arms around them, resting her chin on her knees. I leaned back against the tree and stretched my legs out in front of me -- my usual position.

"You don't have a lot of friends, do you?" she asked.

I was silent. I had no friends, but I didn't want to say it aloud. She was smart enough to catch the hint.

"I noticed that. Athanasios, I like you," she said suddenly.

I was silent.

She turned and looked at me. Our eyes met. I could then see that she was serious.

"We just met," I said bluntly, blinking.

Keme suddenly laughed. "I know that. But it doesn't mean I can't like you, right? I mean, don't you believe in love at first sight?"

"No," I replied. "No, I don't." I quickly unzipped my bag and took out the first book my hand came in contact with. I would try to show her I wasn't interested in as indirect a way as possible.

"You're reading Romeo and Juliet," Keme noted.

I slammed the book shut again, blushing hard, and shoved it back down into my bag. "It's for a class."

"Which one?" she asked slyly.

"One you're not in," I replied quickly.

Keme looked at me strangely. Then she was angry. There was no transition, no warning to the change in her moods. She slapped me. She slapped me hard right across the face for no reason, and jumped up to her feet. I stared up at her in shock, cheek stinging. "You -- jerk," she emphasized, face twisted in rage. "I know what you're doing. You can't handle the fact that a beautiful, smart girl like me likes you. You're antisocial, Athanasios, and you can't handle it! Well, you know what? I change my mind -- I -- hate -- your -- guts." She turned on her heels and stalked off in outrage, leaving me thoroughly confused.

I went through the rest of the day in my daily routine. Keme, thankfully, wasn't in any of my last three classes, though I did discover that her locker was the one above mine. An awkward moment ensued, but then she went along, as if I didn't exist. Some one must have finally given her the memo.

It left a bruise. My mother noticed it first at dinner when I was setting the table.

"Oh, my goodness, Athan," she gasped, putting her cool, slim finger under my chin to get a better look. "What on earth happen -- Who did this to you?" she demanded.

I shrugged her hand off of my face and looked at the blue-checkered tablecloth. "It's nothing, Mom," I sighed. I felt pathetic.

"Son," Dad said in concern. He actually set down his newspaper -- a feat that was seldom witnessed in this household. "Are you being bullied?"

"No, Dad!" I groaned. "It's nothing!"

Then they had a conversation as if I weren't there.

"We should call the school," frowned Mom. "And ask if there has been any...incidents we haven't heard about."

"We need to find out who it is and demand an apology for Athan," Dad agreed. "This is unacceptable."

They continued to agree and comment on the bruise that Keme had left on my cheek. I felt rage welling up inside of me. "It's nothing," I said through gritted teeth. They ignored me. "It's nothing," I said again, a little louder. They ignored me still.

For the first time in my life, I stood up in outrage; my anger would not be contained. It was too large for the darkness to swallow it up. I clutched the tablecloth in my fist and flung it off the table, sending the silverware and china clattering and crashing across the linoleum floor. Mom gave a surprised shriek, jumping back away from the shards of porcelain. Dad also jumped up from his chair and yelled, "Athanasios!"

"Would you listen to me for once in your life?!" I screamed at them. They stared back at me in shock. "I said it was nothing, and I mean it's nothing! Just let it goand forget about it!"

Mom suddenly broke down crying, and Dad continued to stare at me as if I had gone crazy. Abruptly, I felt the same way. What little was left of my anger was swallowed up, and I let the tablecloth that I was still clutching fall from my fingers. "I'm sorry," I whispered, looking down. The floor was covered in broken porcelain. While my parents still stood together on the other side of the mess, I knelt down and started to pick up the pieces, one by one as they blurred through my tear-filled eyes.

I had the feeling that Keme had some doing in this.

Chapter 3

Never have I screamed at my parents -- or anyone, for that matter -- like that. I felt ashamed, and evil, for making my mother cry like that. But she did have a tendency to cry at things, especially when she was pregnant a while ago. And especially after her miscarriage. Even so, I felt so horrible that the tears continued to flow long after the incident had passed, and long after Mom had stopped her own tears. I cleaned up the mess all on my own, threw away the broken plates, and put the silverware in the dishwasher. Then I reset the table for two and went to my room.

Sometimes I wish I could get away from it all. All the monotony of my life. But then I always remember how much my parents love me, and I'm sure that they would be devastated if I left.

After a while of lying in bed in depression and tears, I sit up and look at my digital clock. The green numbers glow 12:19. Well after midnight, and my parents would surely be in bed. I decided to take a walk. The cool, fresh air would do me good.

It was colder than I thought when I walked outside, but I had already closed the door and I didn't want to go through the trouble of rushing in and punching in the security system code before the alarm came on. My dad had it set so that anywhere after midnight, should the door or windows be opened, the alarm would go off and wake up everyone in the neighborhood.

So I decided to take my walk in the cold anyway, with only a pair of pajama bottoms, a small windbreaker, and sneakers slipped over my bare feet. My breath clouded up in the air as I walked briskly down the street. I felt the goosebumps on my arms and legs, but strangely, I liked the feeling. I doubt anyone was awake on my block; none of their lights were on, with the exception of their porchlights.

The moon was bright tonight, though it was only a sliver surrounded by twinkling stars. I wondered if my would-be brother or sister was looking down on me. He or she would have been two years old had he or she been born. We had never decided on a name, but in my mind, I hoped it would have been a girl, and that her name would Alice. What a disappointment when Mom woke us up in the middle of the night, screaming bloody murder. Dad and I both rushed into the bathroom, where the screams were coming from, and found Mom sitting on the floor with her pants around her ankles.

She was holding a tiny fetus in her hands, and there was blood everywhere. On the floor, on the toilet, on the rug, and on her. It was a disgusting sight for a thirteen year old boy to see. I felt queasy and left her there, screaming and writhing on the floor, and went back to my room. I fell asleep to the sound of her wails.

I shook my head to shove away the memory, and took a deep breath of the chilly morning air to help clear my thoughts. I came outside to help myself relax, not remember a bunch of horrifying shit from my past.

It was then that I realized that I had walked to the school. I don't know why; there was no reason for me to come here. I turned to walk back home when I suddenly felt the urge to stay. I looked back at the dark, silent school. Harrison High.

Then I felt a chill and shivered. I needed to get home before I caught a cold. I turned to definitely leave this time.

I hurried home, desperate to get back into my warm bed in my own room. It really is colder than I thought it would be. I was across the street from my house. As it was well after midnight, it didn't occur to me that I should look both ways before crossing.

I stepped out into the streets with my arms wrapped tightly around myself, intent on reaching my destination.

What I thought was light from the streetlamp was actually an oncoming car's headlights. The sound of screeching tires grabbed my attention.

The next thing I knew, it was dark, and my head felt like it was being split in two.

"Oh, my God!" I heard a woman gasp. "Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God." I heard high heels on the pavement. "Kid?" she called. "Oh, my God, oh, my God..."

Then I realized why it was so dark. I was underneath the car itself. I groaned and slowly pulled myself out from under the car. The woman who hitmewas standing in front of me with wide blueeyes, hands over her mouth. "Oh, my God, are you okay?"

I sat up in pain, holding my head in one hand. "Ouch, ouch, ouch..."

"Do--Do you need an ambulance? Do I need to call an ambulance?" the woman asked.

"I'm fine," I replied, looking at my fingertips to check for blood. Nothing seemed to be broken or bleeding. "That was my fault."

"Are you sure you're okay?" the woman asked. "Do you need -- Where do you live? Let me take you home, or to the hospital. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, I swear," I replied. I used the car to aid myself in standing up. I wobbled for a moment, then my equilibrium came back to me and I sighed. "I'm just gonna walk over there," I said, pointing to my house.

"Wh--why? Where's your house? I can give you a ride -- It's the least I can do," the woman insisted. She was really annoying.

I pointed to my house again. "I live there. So, like, I think I'll -- I think I'll just walk over there and maybe go inside or something."

"Do you need any help?" she asked. She looked really desperate. Probably didn't want me to sue her or anything.

"No, no," I said. "I am fine." I walked past her to my house. I reached for the doorknob -- and the door opened on its own.

I staggered back in surprise when I realized that my dad had opened the door. Both my parents were standing there, mirroring my expression, in their bathrobes.

Chapter 4

I was grounded for a month for sneaking out in the middle of the night. My parents talked over the accident with the oh, myGod woman. I watched from my window silently, and they waved her off without taking any payment or apologies. My parents are soft-hearted like that.

The next morning, Saturday, I was eating pancakes at the table with my parents, when there was a desperate rapping on the front door. They didn't use the doorbell.

"I'll get it," I said, standing up. I walked down the hallway and opened the front door. It's Keme. She opens her mouth to say something, and I shut the door and locked it.

"Who was it?" asked Dad through his newspaper.

"No one," I replied, shoving a bite of pancake in my mouth.

I was sure that Keme would get the hint and leave, but I choked in surprise when she suddenly appeared at the kitchen window. Mom and Dad both looked at me while I tried to recover. Their backs were to the window, so they couldn't see the governor's daughter standing in the flower bed and waving for attention.

"Are you all right?" frowned Mom, concerned enough to watch me choke to death, but not to bother to give me the Heimlich maneuver.

I recovered on my own, then jumped up. "Gotta do something," I said, running out of the kitchen and out of the door. Keme smiled with joy when she saw me sprinting across the grass towards her.

"Athanasios," she cried, outstretching her arms. I grabbed one of her wrists and jerked her along with me past the window just as my parents turned, hearing her voice.

"What are you doing here?" I hissed between my pants. I really wasn't in shape at all.

"I came to see you," she replied, taking my hand in hers. "I mean, we just had our first couple fight, is all. Why didn't you call me?"

"What?" I frowned.

"Oh," she frowned, as if suddenly remembering something important. "Haven't you ever seen a drama show? Well, this is how it works: we get into a fight, we stay away for a couple of days, the guy starts to feel tortured because he can't see her, and he calls her like twenty times a day. Then he shows up at her house and kisses her, and everything is all back to normal. Got it?"

I stared at her. "First of all, Keme," I sighed, "I don't have your number or address. And second of all, I'm not interested."

Now it was her turn to stare. "Wh--What?" her bottom lip quivered.

Oh, geez... I sighed. "Keme, I'm sorry. I'm just not attracted to you in that way. I don't mind being your friend--" Actually, I do not want to be her friend at all-- "but we can't be together."

Her eyes were filled with bitter tears, and she was making that ridiculous trying-not-to-cry-even-though-I-already-am noise in the back of her throat. "All right, then," she sobbed. "Is that how you really feel?"

"From the bottom of my heart," I said calmly, placing my fist over the center of my chest. Then I put it down quickly; not the right moment for something like that.

Then I wished I had left my hand where it was; Keme punched me in the chest -- hard. I had the wind knocked out me, and I doubled over, which gave her a chance to knee me in the nose. It felt like I would never breathe again, but then my lungs expanded and air whooshed into them. I coughed and spluttered from the blood that spewed from my nose. I think that violent girl banging on the kitchen window and yelling at my mom that she gave birth to a little bitch broke it.

I felt too lightheaded to stand up. The highest I could get was sitting up, but I was still slouched. I could hardly see through my pain tears. The bright sun mocked me.

Keme stooped over and tore up Mom's favorite flower: a reddish-pink Lobelia that had survived the longest and bloomed the most beautifully. I could hear my mother's horrified gasp from where I was. In her rage, Keme threw the lobelia at me. Keme could throw a feather at some one and it would probably hurt, considering how badly the lobelia smarted when it hit my arm.

Finally, her rampage ended and she stalked off to her hot pink bike at the end of our driveway.

That was when Mom and Dad came outside. Mom nearly fainted when she saw the blood running down my arms. I think all she saw was my hands holding my face because I was hunched over. She ran back inside, probably to call an ambulance.

My nose was still gushing blood. I really think that Keme broke it -- it hurt like HELL.

Then suddenly, I was lying down with something on my face. I knew I was in an ambulance because I could feel the road underneath us and the sirens were wailing.

They are really over reacting for a kid being punched -- well, kneed -- in the face.

Chapter 5

I found out today that Keme has a third degree black belt in tae kwon do. I could've died yesterday. Scary thought.

I also found out why there was so much blood. What I thought was a broken nose was actually a gash underneath my left eye beside my nose, which explains why I couldn't stop the bleeding. I have four stitches. At least I won't have to go to school on Monday or Tuesday.

When I woke up in the late afternoon, I was startled to finda policeman sitting beside me. He was talking to my mom across the bed to me and didn't notice my wide eyes for quite some time. "Oh! Hey, there, buddy. How ya feeling?" he asked. He had that cliche cop 'stache. His hair was blonde.

"Been better," said my mouth before my brain. Damn it! Why does it do that?!

The cop laughed. "I bet. My name is Ben Bratford, and I have a few questions for you. Is that all right with you, Athinosias?"

"Oh, it's Athanasios," corrected Mom. "But you can call him Athan for short."

"Sorry," Ben apologized. "Athan," he used my nickname.

"Ask away," I replied.

Ben nodded and took out a little yellow notepad. "Do you know the woman who attacked you?"

"Yeah."

"Who was she?"

"A classmate."

"What's her name?"

"Keme Burns."

"The governor's daughter?" Ben asked, surprised. He stopped writing and stared at me with aged brown eyes.

"Yup."

Ben exhaled and raised his eyebrows, writing it down. "And -- Why did she attack you?"

"I think she got upset when I said I didn't like her like her back," I replied.

I could tell he was trying to suppress a laugh. It did sound kind of stupid. "All right, then. I'm going to go ask Miss Burns a few questions. Get well soon, Athan."

I remember one day, my freshman year, I was working in a laundromat that my mom's friend owned. She had gone out back for a smoke and left me in charge. Soon after she had left, a man walked in.

I knew he immediately that he wasn't a customer; he hadn't brought any clothes. He paced the back of the store for a little bit. I ignored him and kept studying for my English test. After a while, he walked up to the counter with his hand in his pocket.

"Money," he grunted. I ignored him and flipped a page in my English book. Then he took a kitchen knife out of his pocket and slammed his hand down on the counter. I slowly looked up, without even glancing at the knife. "Money, brat," he growled.

I stared at him. He requested money as politely as the first two times again. I made phony gestures, all the while staring at him. I watched his eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"What're you doin'?" he frowned. I repeated the random gestures. "You deaf?" he asked.

I stared at him for a long moment to make my act convincing, then made realization cross my face. Without looking away from him, I pointed to myself, then to my ears, then shook my head "no."

The man turned red in the face and quickly hid the knife in his pocket, thinking I hadn't seen it. He nodded to me and left just as Jo entered.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

I nodded and flipped a page in my English book.

That day, believe it or not, had me terrified. But it wasn't as terrifying as even the thought of Keme Burns, her hands wrapped around my heart.

Chapter 6

Govenor Burns came to see me Tuesday, my last day in the hospital. My woundswere looking slightly better and less horrifying. He formally apologized to me for his daughter's behavior, and told me that she had already been enrolled into a private academy -- in the next state over. Comforting. She left yesterday, so I don't have to worry about seeing her.

With that, he said his good-byes (I could tell Keme got her looks from him), and promptly left. Dad told me that he personally paid for my hospital bill. That was nice of him. Now if only he would stop spoiling his crazy daughter.

But, anyway, I went home that night and slept in my own, warm bed. Unfortunately, I was still grounded despite my near-death experience. I was actually sort of glad for it; if they had ungrounded me, I would have felt spoiled, and I would hate to turn out the way Keme did.

After that thought, I shut my eyes and fell asleep. Then I opened my eyes. My alarm was going off -- 7:30 a.m. Crap.

But I went through my normal routine: wake up, take a shower, brush my teeth, brush my blue hair (it's dyed, by the way), glance at my pale skin and green eyes in the mirror, then go downstairs for waffles with my parents. At 8:00 a.m., I walk to school and arrive in first period at 8:25. Five minutes before school starts.

And there is a new guy sitting in my seat.

I thnk hard about it. Should I walk up to him and ask him to leave my seat? No, that's what I did with Keme and she started stalking me. But then, she was a spoiled rich brat, and this guy looks pretty average. He has tan skin, though not tan like Keme's, and blonde hair with black streaks in it. His back is to me, talking with my neighbor, Yvette, who never mentions to new kids that they're sitting in my seat. But then the guy turns around, and I see the rest of his face. He has gray eyes. He has make-up on.

It doesn't look bad. Just a little black eyeliner. He has a lip ring -- a hoop that circles the middle of his lower lip. It's silver. Immediately I feel something, just by looking at him. I don't know what it is. Fear, maybe? But all I know is, I don't want to mess with him.

I let him have my seat, and sit in the one that Keme sat in. It feels strange, and I begin to wonder whether I should go ask the new guy for my seat back. But it's too late; Mrs. Aligen has entered the classroom. Damn.

I fidget with my pencil the entire period. I was so uncomfortable sitting in this seat. I feel as if Keme would suddenly walk in and find me in her seat. She would likely use the desk itself to kill me. And no one would stop her.

Finally, the bell rings and I run out and into the bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror. I'm sweating, of all things. Just thinking about Keme has me all worked up. The sweat stings the cut under my eye. It's still bruised around the edges. I look bad.

"Whoa, dude," said a voice behind me. "What happened to your face?"

I whip around. It's the new kid.

"Um. Um," I stutter. Why are there butterflies in my stomach? Is this one of those moments they talk about when you can feel that something bad is going to happen? Oh, God, what if he's an even bigger bully than Keme?

But then I look in his eyes and I know it's not true. Maybe he changed his looks to get noticed, like me, although mine didn't work. He's got my attention.

"You okay?" he frowned. "You look a little sick. Do you want me to take you to the nurse?"

My knees started to shake at the sound of his voice. What the hell?!

"Um. Um," I stutter again. I can't stop blinking. I see a small smile tugging at his pierced lips. Oh, God, does he think I'm batting my eyes at him?!

Then he can't help himself. He smiles. It's a beautiful smile, even though it's crooked. "The name's Shiloah."

"Really?" I asked. I remembered the movie about the dog.

"No. It's actually Darth as in Darth Vader from Star Wars for some reason. Shiloah is my middle name. Shiloah is better than Darth, so that's what I go by," he laughed. Shiloah. It fit him.

"I like it," I said. My knees had stopped shaking and I stopped sweating. For some reason, talking to him is making me feel better. "My name's Athanasios."

"Latin?" he asked, cocking his head to the left. "No, no, don't tell me," he said. "No, it's Greek, and it means...uh, everlasting? No, immortal, right?"

I stared at him.

"Am I wrong?" he asked. "I'm wong, aren't I?" He punched himself in the head. "Get it right, stupid brain."

"N--No, you're right, actually," I said.

"Oh," he said. He looked up. "Sorry, brain."

I gripped the side of sink as I felt dizzy for a moment; my stitches throbbed painfully. I heard him ask me something distantly, but I didn't feel well enough to reply. I needed to sit, my face hurt too much.

I blacked out for a moment. Or two. Or five. When I came to again, I found that Shiloah's arms were looped underneath mine, lifting me up. Then he wrapped one arm around my stomach and half dragged, half carried me out of the bathroom.

The halls were empty. I guess the bell rang. Then it hit me what was going on.

I pulled myself away from him and stumbled to the wall on my own feet. "I'm sorry," I gasped.

His arm was still outstretched towards me, thinking I would fall over. "You okay, man?" he frowned. "Why are you sorry?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I panted. I slid down the wall and sat down. "Just a little dizzy right now...I just got out of the hospital."

"Why didn't you stay home for a couple of more days?" Shiloah asked.

I shrugged.

"Do you need to go home?"

I shrugged. I was sweating again. I closed my eyes.

I felt a cool hand brush aside my bangs and feel my forehead. I opened my eyes. It was Shiloah. His hands were soft.

"You have a fever," he commented. "Like, really bad. I think you should go home."

He smelled good.

"Athan? You hear me?" he asked. He used my nickname. I nodded. "Do you have a way to get home?"

It took a moment to decipher the question. It was so hot in here. "I walk."

"Nope," he said.

What? I thought. I needed fresh air. I managed to get onto my knees but then I realized that I had no idea how I was going to get up. While I thought about crawling out of the door, I felt Shiloah's hands under my arms, lifting me up. "Wha--"

"I'm going to give you a ride home," Shiloah said. "I can't just let you go out on your own into the cold air."

Despite my (weak) protests, he half carried me out of the school. He would be in so much trouble for skipping class. So much trouble. And isn't it his first day? No, that's not right. He would have started Monday. Oh, well. No stopping him now.

He took me out to a blue car with a dent in the hood and dug out a set of keys, along with a handful of candy wrappers, from his jeans pocket. "Here we are," he muttered.

"Isn't this the car that ran me over?" I murmured, frowning at the dent in the hood. Yes, yes, I remember distinctly. That was the exact spot my head slammed into.

"Oh, shit," said Shiloah suddenly. "My mom did that to your face? I mean, she said she hit a guy, but that he was fine. She didn't mention any blood at the scene..."

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 21.11.2011

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