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Footsteps sound, and I blink, handing over his backpack just as a stern female voice says, “Boys. Is there a problem here?”
We both climb to a stand, dusting mulch off our jeans. Turning, I stare up at a tall, broad woman dressed in a suit. Her mouth is downturned as she gazes between me and the boy standing just behind me.
For some reason, I find myself shuffling fully in front of him, blocking him.
“We didn’t do anything, ma’am,” I say.
“That’s not what Mrs. Markel said. She saw you push Mikey.” She gives her head a little shake, frown deepening. “I don’t think I know you…”
I lift my chin. “It’s my first day.”
She sighs, shaking her head some more. “You must be Mason Wyatt then. This is not how I’d imagine a first day in a new school should go.”
I scrunch my forehead and tell her, “I know, but it was for good, not evil.”
She glances behind me, and I realize, despite standing in front of Jeremy, she can easily see over me.
“Do you boys want to tell me what happened?”
Before she even gets the words out, I say, “He didn’t do anything wrong. They were pickin’ on him.”
“I’m sorry, Principal Gibson,” a soft voice says, and I tense.
Whippin’ my head around, I scowl at Jeremy over my shoulder. “Don’t say sorry. You did nothing wrong.”
His eyes fly up to mine from where they were aimed at the ground, all big and round like he’s scared. He kind of looks like one of those dolls I used to see in the commercials—the ones with spiky long lashes and too-big eyes and tiny noses. Except he has way more hair. It’s almost down to his shoulders, pin straight until it reaches the ends where it curls a bit.
Bunching my face, I turn back to face the lady, who’s apparently my new principal. Standing a little taller, I say, “I shoved the jerk—k-kid. Kid. He threw Jeremy’s stuff on the ground and was saying mean things.”
Principal Gibson arches a brow down at me.
“He deserved it,” I mutter, dropping my gaze, my cheeks growing warm.
“Mr. Montgomery, let’s get you to class. Mr. Wyatt, you’ll have to come with me. And please put your headphones away. You can listen to your music after school.”
Without another word, she turns and starts striding toward the doors, with Jeremy and I shuffling behind her.
I dart him a look through the corner of my eye to find him doing the same. His face reddens, and he looks away.
Does he know the song? I wonder, dying to ask him. Show him.
I have it. I have it right here…
But I don’t want to get in even more trouble.
Chewing my lip, I fumble to turn off my MP3 player, hating the silence that follows. It makes me feel like my breathing is too loud—like everyone can hear how fast it’s coming.
I’ll have to show it to him later.
Principal Gibson holds the door open, gesturing for us to head in.
She pulls something out of her pocket—a note pad—writes something on it, then tears the sheet off and hands it to Jeremy. “Give this to your teacher so you don’t get in trouble.”
He nods jerkily, and I can’t help but notice how pale he is. Shiny too around his forehead, like he’s sweating—clammy—like maybe he has a fever.
Before I can ask him if he’s okay, he spins around and darts into the first room on the right.
The last thing I see before the door closes behind him is his red backpack and the name stitched across the pocket.
