with linoleum floors. It’s a two-story, U-shaped building, made of dark red brick. Big black screens cover the windows—to conserve energy, the school board says—and the back parking lot is surrounded by a high chain-link fence. Alex pulls into a spot farther back, away from where other students have parked and clustered. Inside, the school smells of bad cafeteria food and cleaning supplies.
First period is American government with grumpy Mr. Wiley, then it’s chemistry with Mrs. Alexander, followed by trig with Mrs. Summers, who is young and surprisingly pretty for a math teacher. Nothing unusual happens today. Alex sits in his uncomfortable seats and pays attention and feels just like another student. None of his friends—well, his ex-friends—are in his early classes. This used to disappoint him, but now, he knows, it’s a blessing.
Advanced English is fourth period, his favorite class. He likes the work (the reading, writing, analyzing), and the teacher, Mrs. Winters, who’s sarcastic and no-nonsense and funny. She doesn’t treat Alex like some fragile head case, like some of the other teachers. After English, it’s time for lunch, and Alex heads for the library, where he sneaks nibbles from a package of peanut-butter crackers he buys from the vending machine, does his homework, and daydreams. Luckily James has a different lunch period, or else he might comment on his absence from the cafeteria or, worse, feel obligated to have Alex sit at his table. When Alex returned to school after the incident at the beginning of October, his old lunchroom pals would set their bags and books on the empty seats to discourage him from even
thinking
about sitting with them. At first he sat alone, on the other side of the cafeteria, where most of the black kids sat, in an odd habit of mutually agreed-upon segregation. Some of the black kids gave him funny looks, but most just ignored him. None of them, at least, prevented him from sitting near them. Eventually Alex figured out that he could sit in the library, where his solitude wasn’t so obviously on display.
The librarian is a fortyish woman with short, curly brown hair. She always wears long pleated skirts and buttoned-up white blouses, like it’s her librarian uniform. She never smiles at Alex. She probably hates him because he never checks out any of the books. The only other people in the library are Valerie Towson, a quiet, mousy black girl who’s a senior, and a boy named Jess Blankenship, a math geek with no personality. Great company he’s in. They all sit alone, at separate wooden tables, their faces buried in homework.
Today Alex pulls out a notebook and maps out a jogging plan for himself. This week, he decides, he’ll keep to the same path and the same distance. But next week he’ll need to go farther, longer. He figures the golf course runs about three miles, give or take. So he could always run the course twice, to increase the distance. Or he could run through the neighborhoods—his and a few others—that border the course. Nathen Rao lives in one of those neighborhoods—Pinehurst—with his parents, professors at the university. He maps out two weeks’ worth of jogging regimens, and after that he will see how his body is holding up.
The bell rings—time for Spanish class. As he trudges up the south stairwell, he sees James and Nathen.
“Hey, buddy,” Nathen says, passing and, just like last night, play-punching him on the shoulder. Alex tries to say something back, but he feels like he has twenty pieces of bubble gum in his mouth, so he just nods and smiles. He continues up the stairs and he wonders what James—who only looked at him, not even nodding—is thinking, what expression he wears. It makes Alex smile to think about.
In Spanish it is “conversation day.” Mr. Ramos, who is actually
from
a Spanish-speaking country, unlike Alex’s southern-twanged tenth-grade teacher, assigns him to chat with Patty McPherson. He notices that
First period is American government with grumpy Mr. Wiley, then it’s chemistry with Mrs. Alexander, followed by trig with Mrs. Summers, who is young and surprisingly pretty for a math teacher. Nothing unusual happens today. Alex sits in his uncomfortable seats and pays attention and feels just like another student. None of his friends—well, his ex-friends—are in his early classes. This used to disappoint him, but now, he knows, it’s a blessing.
Advanced English is fourth period, his favorite class. He likes the work (the reading, writing, analyzing), and the teacher, Mrs. Winters, who’s sarcastic and no-nonsense and funny. She doesn’t treat Alex like some fragile head case, like some of the other teachers. After English, it’s time for lunch, and Alex heads for the library, where he sneaks nibbles from a package of peanut-butter crackers he buys from the vending machine, does his homework, and daydreams. Luckily James has a different lunch period, or else he might comment on his absence from the cafeteria or, worse, feel obligated to have Alex sit at his table. When Alex returned to school after the incident at the beginning of October, his old lunchroom pals would set their bags and books on the empty seats to discourage him from even
thinking
about sitting with them. At first he sat alone, on the other side of the cafeteria, where most of the black kids sat, in an odd habit of mutually agreed-upon segregation. Some of the black kids gave him funny looks, but most just ignored him. None of them, at least, prevented him from sitting near them. Eventually Alex figured out that he could sit in the library, where his solitude wasn’t so obviously on display.
The librarian is a fortyish woman with short, curly brown hair. She always wears long pleated skirts and buttoned-up white blouses, like it’s her librarian uniform. She never smiles at Alex. She probably hates him because he never checks out any of the books. The only other people in the library are Valerie Towson, a quiet, mousy black girl who’s a senior, and a boy named Jess Blankenship, a math geek with no personality. Great company he’s in. They all sit alone, at separate wooden tables, their faces buried in homework.
Today Alex pulls out a notebook and maps out a jogging plan for himself. This week, he decides, he’ll keep to the same path and the same distance. But next week he’ll need to go farther, longer. He figures the golf course runs about three miles, give or take. So he could always run the course twice, to increase the distance. Or he could run through the neighborhoods—his and a few others—that border the course. Nathen Rao lives in one of those neighborhoods—Pinehurst—with his parents, professors at the university. He maps out two weeks’ worth of jogging regimens, and after that he will see how his body is holding up.
The bell rings—time for Spanish class. As he trudges up the south stairwell, he sees James and Nathen.
“Hey, buddy,” Nathen says, passing and, just like last night, play-punching him on the shoulder. Alex tries to say something back, but he feels like he has twenty pieces of bubble gum in his mouth, so he just nods and smiles. He continues up the stairs and he wonders what James—who only looked at him, not even nodding—is thinking, what expression he wears. It makes Alex smile to think about.
In Spanish it is “conversation day.” Mr. Ramos, who is actually
from
a Spanish-speaking country, unlike Alex’s southern-twanged tenth-grade teacher, assigns him to chat with Patty McPherson. He notices that
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