Saving Montgomery Sole by Mariko Tamaki

I said.
    â€œHard to imagine them organizing in advance without new management. Are the crosses still there?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œHey!” Naoki said, marching down the auditorium aisle like a majorette. “Are you eating fries and talking about stuff?” She grinned.
    â€œSome of us are not eating fries,” Thomas said, shaking his kale snack.
    â€œYeah,” I sighed.
    Naoki jumped up onto the stage and looked at Thomas. “Some of us are a little on edge today,” Thomas added.
    â€œOh,” Naoki said quietly. “I see. Ready for bio, Monty?”
    I stood up. “Yes. I have to go do something first.”
    *   *   *
    As I walked down the hall, my heart hammering in my head like a car alarm, I could see the rows of crosses ahead. Still there. Glad the administration is all over it , I thought.
    Guess it wasn’t a huge priority for the staff to remove a cross . Because, you know, what’s the big deal?
    It’s not the end of the world or anything , a voice in my head fumed. Right? It’s just someone tagging someone’s locker with a religious figure? Who doesn’t love a Jesus on a cross?
    It took two regular pencils, a mechanical pencil, and a ballpoint pen, but I eventually pried the thing off my locker. The stream of post-lunch kids slowed to a crawl behind me, slowing down the way you do at a car accident. I could hear Naoki in the background talking but not what she was saying.
    Then, right before I wrenched it off, I could swear I heard someone chuckling. But I spun around, and it was just Naoki.
    â€œYou okay?” she asked.
    â€œLet’s just go.”
    The cross left a huge navy hole in the paint of my locker. It looked like someone had cracked it with a cannonball.
    â€œYou want to go home maybe?” Naoki whispered.
    â€œNo, I’m fine. It’s fine.” The tips of my fingers were all raw. I shoved the cross into my bag and stomped to class.
    It wasn’t hard to spot Kenneth White, son of the Reverend White, in bio. I mean, all I had to do was look for someone I didn’t know. I tried not to stare as Naoki and I made our way to our spots, until I was behind him and better able to glare freely.
    He was football-tall and stocky, with a big, wide neck. His hair was so blond it was almost see-through. It looked like doll hair. When he turned to look out the window, I could practically see his veins.
    â€œThat’s Kenneth White?” I whispered.
    Naoki nodded. “Yes, it is. He’s in my Spanish class as well.”
    He looked as if someone had chipped him out of marble.
    We spent the class drawing cells. Naoki drew hers with the faintest pencil line, thinner than an eyelash.
    â€œYour cells look like ghosts,” I whispered, pointing.
    Naoki looked down at her sheet of paper. “Do ghosts have cells?”
    Something about having Kenneth White in the room made my head hurt. Maybe it was how hard I was staring at the back of his head.
    The bell rang and students started jumping out of their seats, slinging bags over shoulders. Shouting across the room. Stuff like, “Wait up, dick !”
    I felt light-headed and heavy all at the same time.
    Kenneth stood, like some sort of Neolithic creature, propping his hands on the desk and shoving his chair back. He must have been over six feet tall. He practically had to unfold himself to get out from under the desk. He was wearing leather boots like the kind construction workers wear, neatly tied up tight. Not like some sort of cool hipster thing. Like someone planning on digging a hole or something.
    A hole for sinners.
    I didn’t want to get out of my chair. I kind of wanted to crawl under my desk.
    I mean, seriously, it’s one thing to have a school full of idiots to deal with; it’s something else entirely to have to sit with someone who you know, for a fact, thinks you’re going to hell.
    So I just sat for a bit.