Soul Catcher by Katia Lief Page A

he let me back into school. Don’t be surprised.’
    It was too soon for most people to know Patrick was back. Our old seats together were already taken by the time we got into the dining room, and we had to sit at different tables. All during breakfast, I was dying of curiosity about Patrick’s deal with the man.
    Finally, after breakfast, Silvera said there was an announcement. Two tables over, Patrick stood up. The room broke into applause, welcoming him back. He hooked his thumbs into his belt loops, his shoulders sloped and hishead hung slightly forward. He looked at me and smiled nervously. He cleared his throat.
    ‘Well!’ His voice cracked. ‘Well, hi!’ There was more applause. ‘It’s good to be back. I’ve missed school a lot.’
    I couldn’t believe it. Patrick wasn’t exactly a renegade, but he also wasn’t a Grover — one of those lackluster fools who played by the party-line without thinking. This speech must have been part of the bargain he made to get back into school.
    ‘After classes —’ Patrick’s voice cracked again and he looked at me. I smiled. ‘After classes this afternoon, there’s gonna be sign-up for activities for the new quarter. I’m announcing a new one that I’ll be running. It’s called Drug Group and I hope anyone who feels they need to talk about drugs will join.’ He glanced at me, then sat back down.
    Drug Group. What was that? An assembly to do drugs, to stop doing drugs, or to trade war stories? I had heard kids talking: ‘Man, I was wasted.’ ‘It really fucked me up.’ ‘It blew my mind.’ I could just see a Grove Drug Group, run by Patrick: he could illustrate the discussions by showing the rash of tracks up his inner arms. Someone else could instruct as to alternate methods and territories: behind the knees, or under fingernails where the tracks wouldn’t show.
    Later Patrick told me, ‘It was Silvera’s idea. He said if I get five kids to sign up for a group about drugs, I can stay at school. All we have to do is talk about drugs.’ He shrugged. No sweat. ‘If fewer than five kids sign up, then I have to leave.’
    ‘I’ll join,’ I said, ‘and I’ll ask Gwen. What about Eddie? That’s three right there.’
    He shook his head. ‘You have to sign up for something else. Silvera specifically said so. Besides,’ he smiled coyly, ‘you’re straight as an arrow. What do you know about drugs?’
    ‘More than you think. Plus, I know you.’
    ‘Ha ha. Cute. But Gwen can join if she wants to.’
    ‘And Eddie.’
    ‘Eddie can’t.’
    “Why not?’
    ‘He’s on probation.’
    That was the first I’d heard that Eddie was in trouble. I looked over at him: he was standing near us, with John, Troy and Janice. Janice had a long face, a barely developed chest and slightly bowed legs. She was very thin, and with her long dark hair and black leather skirt, she looked tough — or at least like she wanted to. She and Troy pretended they were a motorcycle gang. I couldn’t imagine them kissing. Troy was peeling bark off a stick, while Janice and Eddie threw stones at Peter Prentice. He was the one with the wacky idea to build a geodesic dome. Peter stood about ten feet away, board-straight, with his arms folded tightly over his chest. Every time a stone sailed past, he swayed in the other direction and then centered himself again, like one of those blow-up punch bags that bounce back after every hit. He was doing his Zen. And smiling.
    ‘Poor Peter Prentice,’ I said.
    Patrick shrugged. ‘We all have our problems.’
    ‘Do you think he’d join your group?’
    ‘I don’t think he uses drugs. He’s high on life, you know?’
    I laughed.
    ‘But I bet Troy and Janice would, and maybe John. Come on.’
    We marched over and enlisted them into Patrick’s Drug Group. They liked Patrick, thought he was cool because he was an addict, a junkie. They were dead-end kids and admired defeat.
    Activities sign-up was on the second floor of the school