boring, yet I found myself losing interest and sneaking glances at Jack. With one finger he tapped out a rhythm on his chest a few inches below his collarbone, not even pretending to listen. He’d regained some of his color—though his skin was still incredibly pale—and his eyes had lost the wildness I’d seen earlier.
“You okay?” I finally asked.
“Sure,” he said. “I’m fine.” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “I’m fine,” he repeated.
I hesitated and then said, “I’m nervous too, if that makes you feel any better.”
Jack laid his head back against the seat. “I haven’t gotten much sleep lately,” he admitted.
“Me either.”
“I wish we didn’t have to live on campus,” he said. “I don’t like the idea of being surrounded at night by a bunch of teachers. Gives me the creeps.”
“They said we could go home on the weekends. Are your folks nearby?”
He shook his head. “I’m from Portland. But I can crash with a friend. What about you? You live in Danville?”
I nodded. “I live with my grandma. She’s pretty old. I need to go home over the weekends to help her with housework.”
“Your grandma, huh? What’s she like?” he asked.
“Grandma?” The question caught me by surprise. No one ever asked about my grandmother. “She’s okay. My parents died when I was little, so she’s like my mom, I guess. What about you? Are your grandparents around?”
Jack shook his head. “I don’t really know,” he said. “No one ever introduced us.”
I laughed uneasily. “Isn’t that something parents usually do?”
“Not my parents.”
“Oh.” I knew plenty of other kids at school with screwed-up parents. In fact, sometimes I wondered who those kids were, on all those TV shows, who had moms who stayed home and helped them with their homework, and dads who put on ties and drove off to work in shiny black cars. I mean, I’m not saying those kids don’t exist. I just wondered if I’d ever meet any.
It occurred to me that Esther was probably one of those kids. And Hennie. Maybe Delcroix was full of them, and I was the only one with a screwed-up family.
Me and Jack, maybe.
“So … how does it feel to be invited to the great Delcroix Academy?” Jack asked.
I laughed. “If it’s so great, I’m not sure why they want me around.”
Jack nudged me with his elbow. “Come on, you must have some special talent. World-class mathlete? You don’t look like a computer geek. Maybe spelling bee queen?”
“Hardly. I’m not sure why I’m here, actually. I’m pretty much mediocre at everything. What about you?”
“I’m their token poor kid. Economic diversity and all that.”
“No way.” I shook my head and started to relax for the first time that morning. “They’ve already got me.”
Ten minutes later, after a tour of the grounds that I barely heard because Jack and I were busy comparing our lack of talents, the bus came to a halt in front of the school build-ing—what I think Cam called the Main Hall. Jack abruptly stopped talking, and we both gaped at our first full view of the school.
A pair of stone dragons guarded the outside of the building—I think Cam mentioned something about their being the school mascot just before I spaced out. A set of marble steps led into the dark interior of the school, with a pair of white columns framing the doors. Lush green vegetation surrounded the red brick building, a far cry from my weatherbeaten middle school with its straggly rhododendrons and dead grass.
A path ran around the side of the building, and you could see the corner of another red brick structure tucked behind the Main Hall. It must have been the Res. A third building, a square white house with shutters on the windows and a wide front porch, stood just to the left of the Main Hall. I assumed this was the house where about half the teachers lived during the week, the ones that didn’t drive to work in the morning. Cam called it the Bly.
“You okay?” I finally asked.
“Sure,” he said. “I’m fine.” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “I’m fine,” he repeated.
I hesitated and then said, “I’m nervous too, if that makes you feel any better.”
Jack laid his head back against the seat. “I haven’t gotten much sleep lately,” he admitted.
“Me either.”
“I wish we didn’t have to live on campus,” he said. “I don’t like the idea of being surrounded at night by a bunch of teachers. Gives me the creeps.”
“They said we could go home on the weekends. Are your folks nearby?”
He shook his head. “I’m from Portland. But I can crash with a friend. What about you? You live in Danville?”
I nodded. “I live with my grandma. She’s pretty old. I need to go home over the weekends to help her with housework.”
“Your grandma, huh? What’s she like?” he asked.
“Grandma?” The question caught me by surprise. No one ever asked about my grandmother. “She’s okay. My parents died when I was little, so she’s like my mom, I guess. What about you? Are your grandparents around?”
Jack shook his head. “I don’t really know,” he said. “No one ever introduced us.”
I laughed uneasily. “Isn’t that something parents usually do?”
“Not my parents.”
“Oh.” I knew plenty of other kids at school with screwed-up parents. In fact, sometimes I wondered who those kids were, on all those TV shows, who had moms who stayed home and helped them with their homework, and dads who put on ties and drove off to work in shiny black cars. I mean, I’m not saying those kids don’t exist. I just wondered if I’d ever meet any.
It occurred to me that Esther was probably one of those kids. And Hennie. Maybe Delcroix was full of them, and I was the only one with a screwed-up family.
Me and Jack, maybe.
“So … how does it feel to be invited to the great Delcroix Academy?” Jack asked.
I laughed. “If it’s so great, I’m not sure why they want me around.”
Jack nudged me with his elbow. “Come on, you must have some special talent. World-class mathlete? You don’t look like a computer geek. Maybe spelling bee queen?”
“Hardly. I’m not sure why I’m here, actually. I’m pretty much mediocre at everything. What about you?”
“I’m their token poor kid. Economic diversity and all that.”
“No way.” I shook my head and started to relax for the first time that morning. “They’ve already got me.”
Ten minutes later, after a tour of the grounds that I barely heard because Jack and I were busy comparing our lack of talents, the bus came to a halt in front of the school build-ing—what I think Cam called the Main Hall. Jack abruptly stopped talking, and we both gaped at our first full view of the school.
A pair of stone dragons guarded the outside of the building—I think Cam mentioned something about their being the school mascot just before I spaced out. A set of marble steps led into the dark interior of the school, with a pair of white columns framing the doors. Lush green vegetation surrounded the red brick building, a far cry from my weatherbeaten middle school with its straggly rhododendrons and dead grass.
A path ran around the side of the building, and you could see the corner of another red brick structure tucked behind the Main Hall. It must have been the Res. A third building, a square white house with shutters on the windows and a wide front porch, stood just to the left of the Main Hall. I assumed this was the house where about half the teachers lived during the week, the ones that didn’t drive to work in the morning. Cam called it the Bly.
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