School of the Dead by Avi Page A

Austin’s place. Below my picture, things were already written.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Welcome to Penda! Mr. Batalie
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  You’re very interesting. Jessica
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  I’m glad you’re in our class. Lilly
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  I need to talk to you.
    Why did Jessica find me interesting? Who was Lilly? Who needed to talk to me? Weren’t all comments supposed to be signed?
    Sure enough, the following day, Thursday, just before classes began, Mr. Batalie made an announcement. “Okay, guys, someone wrote under Tony’s picture. Nothing negative, but it was
not
signed. I trust we all know the rules about the portrait board.
No unsigned statements.
I’ve removed that comment. Whoever did that, please do not do it again.”
    Kids looked around. No one confessed. Nothing more was said. Or answered.
    Later in the day, Peter asked me if I would like to sit on the newspaper Wednesday club. I agreed, only to have Jessica ask me to join the Weird History Club. She said, “I need to talk to you.”
    â€œI promised Peter,” I said, but noted that
I need to talk to you
was what had been written under my photo. Had she written it?
    I sat in on the School Newspaper Club. They talked about who should interview the
perfect
Riley Fadden. It made me wish I had gone with Jessica.
    Thursday crept by like a slug with a flat tire. I did not see Uncle Charlie, and that was good. But the blond kid kept appearing, which I did not like. Whenever I saw him, I turned and moved on. That helped.
    The best part of my day was after school, when I walked the slackline. Though I was getting better and better, school was not. I felt stupid in classes. I was not making any friends and wasn’t sure how to do anything about it.
    Friday, another comment appeared under my picture:
I need to talk to you.
Once more, it wasn’t signed. By then I was sure it was Jessica who had written it, but I didn’t want to say anything.
    Batalie scolded the class. No one admitted doing anything.
    I saw the blond boy twice.
    The instant I saw him, not only did I turn away, but I hung around other kids. That seemed to work. He went. Fromthen on, I made sure to stay around people.
    All the same, I kept catching glimpses of him. So I changed my mind about Jessica. The way I kept seeing—or
thinking
I was seeing—the blond kid upset me. Jessica claimed her club studied weird things. Seeing the Penda Boy was totally weird. I was also sure she wanted to talk to me. Maybe she would help get the boy out of my head. This was why, during morning recess, in the cafeteria, I headed right to where she and the Weird History Club were sitting.
    Jessica was at her table, one of her feet—black sneakers with red shoelaces—on the empty chair. When I showed up, doughnut and juice in hand, I didn’t get her regular smile. It took me looking at her foot to get her to move so I could sit.
    â€œHow’s it going?” I said.
    â€œWe’re okay,” she replied, sounding glum. Mac and Barney kept eating and didn’t speak. It was as if they knew I had been avoiding them.
    After some silence, Mac said, “Hey, Tony, what do you think of the Penda School now?”
    I said, “A lot of work.”
    â€œYeah,” agreed Barney, adding to his sunflower-seed pile. “It is.”
    I was trying to get up my nerve to ask Jessica about the blond kid when she suddenly said, “Anyone tell you more about Austin?”
    I shook my head.
    â€œThey won’t,” she said.
    â€œWhy?” I asked.
    Mac left off biting a fingernail to say, “The towers. Learn about them yet?”
    â€œNot really,” I said, not getting what Austin had to do with the towers.
    â€œThey’re haunted,” Mac said, going back to chewing his nail.
    Remembering Ms. Foxton’s warning about