Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Jeff spent the next period writing questions he wanted to ask Aarav over lunch.

Where do you live?

What do you like to do on weekends?

Do you have any pets?

He was busy thinking of a fourth question when the bell dismissed the students for lunch. After gathering his things, Jeff decided the whole questionnaire idea seemed forced, and he crumpled the piece of paper before tossing it in the garbage on the way out.

“Aarav!” He spotted him at the head of the line.

Aarav motioned for him to come join, but Preston’s arm shot out and blocked his path. “Don’t even think about cutting, freak.”

The other students inched forward. Aarav finished paying for his lunch and glanced back at Jeff.

“I’ll catch up with you in a bit,” Jeff called to him. “Save me a seat.” He retreated to the back.

“Nice shirt, princess,” Preston said as Jeff walked away. “Did you steal it from your mom’s closet?”

Jeff remembered what his dad had said to him earlier about fighting. No, he thought. Preston’s stupid comments wouldn’t get me a pass. Besides, I’ve never even thrown a punch. He moved behind a girl who sat a few desks ahead of him in homeroom. “Hi, Donna.” He accidentally brushed her hair with one of his feelers.

“Watch it, mutant!” She spun around, her hair whipping him in the face and scratching three of his eyes.

Jeff winced. “Ow.” He moved back a foot. “You don’t have to be rude.”

“Ugh!” Her shrillness stung Jeff’s ears. “Stop talking to me!” The girl stepped to the side. “Jennifer!” Another girl turned. “Can I move up there with you?” Jennifer gave the go-ahead, and that was all the girl needed.

Why is everyone in this school such a jerk? Jeff moved forward as two more kids went through to grab trays. He was almost to the cashier and stuck his hand in his pocket, digging for change. He tried the other pocket. No! He looked in his backpack but came up empty-handed. My lunch money! He visualized it sitting on his dresser back at home.

“Hey, weirdo, you’re holding up the line.” A hand pushed his back.

Jeff lurched forward, and his bag went flying, scattering books and pencils across the floor. His skin heated, and a stinging sensation in his arm made him cringe. He sensed dozens of eyes watching as he stooped to collect his things.

What’s that about? He shook off the pain and envisioned sinking his fangs into the onlookers. Don’t think like that. He cleared his mind. Don’t stoop to their level.

“Need a hand?”

There was Aarav, offering help for the second time that morning.

“You’re the new guy.” Jeff grabbed his hand and stood. “Shouldn’t I be the one rescuing you from your first few days of hell at a new school?”

Aarav grunted. “I never stay anywhere long enough to let people get under my skin.” He parted the lunch line and led them through the maze of tables. “My dad moves us around a lot. Come on. You can share my food.”

Laughter and idle chatter filled the cafeteria as they walked. Lunch always felt like a sporting event to Jeff, and one he attended alone. A few times, Mr. Drake had invited Jeff to eat with him at the faculty table until it became clear this did more damage to Jeff’s reputation than good. Occasionally, he’d sneak into the art studio, which was always empty during lunch, and hide out until the bell. But today, following Aarav, he found he was looking forward to the break.

“Oh, look at the new couple!” Preston said as the boys took their seats one table down from him. “They’re so cute together.”

Jeff tensed, and Aarav handed him an orange. “Come on, bud,” he said, stabbing salad with his fork. “Don’t feed the animals.” He nodded for him to eat.

Jeff’s fingernail slid beneath the orange peel, and zest misted the air as skin separated from pith. The citrusy smell triggered his sensors, and he dug into the fruit, enjoying the refreshing burst of flavor as it washed over his tongue.

Aarav studied him and took a bite. “Oranges,” he said. “My favorite fruit.”

Jeff looked at his tray. “You didn’t get a hamburger like everyone else?”

“I don’t eat meat.” He poked a tomato around the edge of his plate.

“Oh. I’ve never met a vegetarian before. Does meat make you sick?” He thought of all the meat he’d eaten over the years and wondered how he’d feel if he couldn’t have it.

Aarav swallowed and shook his head. “No. I just think every animal deserves the chance to live.”

His smile was genuine, and his words held no echo of judgment; but still, Jeff felt a pang of guilt at never having thought much about his own eating habits before. I like animals too. Though most of them don’t like me. He nodded and ate another orange slice. “I’m not a freak, you know.” He immediately wished he could take back the words. Nice going, weirdo. Real smooth.

Aarav arched an eyebrow, then took a sip of water. “Okay.” When he set it down, the plastic cup rattled against the table. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

“Okay?” Jeff shrugged. “That’s it? You just accept my word for it?”

“Who else’s word should I accept on the matter?” Aarav finished his last few bites.

Jeff waited for the punchline, expecting at any moment for Aarav to stand and point at him, to laugh and call him names like the other kids, but no such time came. Who is this guy? He couldn’t recall ever meeting anyone like Aarav Jain. “Where are you from?” he asked.

“Like I said in third period. I’m from Oregon.” He crumpled up his paper napkin and tossed it on the lunch tray.

Jeff cocked his head. “Is that where your family’s from?”

“It’s just me and my dad. And we’re originally from India.”

“Oh, cool. When did you come to the country?” Jeff tapped his heel against the ground.

“When I was about five years old.” Aarav leaned back in his chair. “Jeff?”

Jeff stopped bouncing his foot. “Yeah?”

“You seem nervous. Is everything all right?”

“Oh. Yeah, sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not good at making friends. Most people make fun of my clothes, or, you know,” he pointed to his face.

Aarav gave him a once-over. “What’s wrong with your clothes?”

Jeff grinned and for the first time in years didn’t feel anxious of those around him. He finished the orange just before the bell.

Definitely not like anyone I’ve met before.

***

The afternoon made up for the day’s rocky start. Jeff learned Aarav and his father had moved into a residence two blocks north of Jeff’s neighborhood. The boys had fifth period together and agreed to meet after the seventh and final hour to walk home.

I have a friend! The novelty might have been lost on anyone else, but not Jeff. The clock ticked by in torturous slow motion. Ten more minutes till last period.

The bell excused them, and students rushed to their bright blue lockers to swap out books. Not needing supplies for Art Appreciation, Jeff bypassed the crowds to make a pit stop in the less-frequented boys’ restroom near to the art studio at the end of the hall. A few students grumbled and elbowed each other as he passed, and others leaned in small huddles and snickered, but for the most part, he found himself not caring.

The bathroom was small, with one stall and two urinals. Thank god it’s empty, he thought, pushing past the door. The last thing I want is another swirly from Preston. He skipped the urinals and headed for the stall, bolting its door behind him. He’d just unbuttoned his jeans when the main door opened, and two voices flooded in. Jeff held his stream and listened to the sound of pulled zippers, along with the intermittent splashing of piss against porcelain.

“Have you seen the new kid this afternoon? Aardvark, or whatever the hell his name is?”

Shit, it’s Preston. Jeff froze. The mention of Aarav’s name piqued his curiosity.

“Nah, man. Not since lunch.”

Jeff couldn’t put a face to the other voice.

“Why?” the kid continued. “You wanna ask him out?”

Preston feigned a laugh. “Hilarious, asshole. No! I was thinking I might introduce him to swirly Fridays. You know—welcome him in style.”

“Why don’t you ask that sideshow he ate lunch with where he’s at?”

Jeff clenched his fists. He stayed quiet and prepared to jet out if needed. His fingertips trembled, making it difficult to button his pants, but he managed.

“Who, pincer-face?”

They’re not pincers! A searing pain traveled through Jeff’s right arm, and he remembered it hurting in the cafeteria. He chewed his tongue to keep from groaning. There it is again!

“I’m not going anywhere near that turd-suck.” Preston said.

“You don’t wanna be best buds with arachno-face?

Jeff clutched his arm and dug his foot in the ground, trying to breathe quietly. God, it hurts!

There was a brief silence, then the kid who wasn’t Preston spoke. “Cut it out!” His voice cracked on a high note. “Keep your dick pointed at your own urinal, man.”

“Dude, I’m just messing with you. Don’t get your panties twisted.” Preston’s snort echoed off the walls. “And speaking of aardvarks, what’s with your dick, man? It looks like an anteater.”

“What the fuck, Preston? Quit staring at my dick, pervert!”

There was a loud smack.

“Ouch!” The boy’s voice screeched again. “Why’d you hit me, Preston?”

“I told you never to call me that!”

“Sorry, man. I forgot you hate that word cause of the time your dad caught you—”

“Finish that sentence, and you’re leaving here with a black eye, dude. I’m not screwing around.”

“Okay, okay. I get it. Sorry, won’t happen again.”

Get out of here! Jeff tried to move his arm, which burned like it was being held over a lit match. The boys zipped their pants and flushed. Jeff listened as they bypassed the sink, more thankful for than grossed out by their lack of hygiene. So long as they don’t find me. Their footsteps faded as they moved toward the exit.

God, it hurts! Please just hurry up and leave. He pressed his heel deeper into his shoe to distract from the pain. A squeak echoed throughout the bathroom as the rubber sole slid on the tile. The boys stopped, and Jeff’s heart skipped.

“What was that?” the kid asked, his voice breaking again.

Preston laughed. “Somebody let a squealer while droppin’ a deuce.” He came closer. “Hey, who’s in there?”

Jeff stepped forward, knowing Preston could identify him by his shoes. Not many guys their age wore suede. Please, no! Not another swirly! He cradled his aching arm. I can barely breathe!

“Hello?” Preston knocked. “Come out, come out.”

“Come on, dude,” the other kid said. “I don’t want fart smell stuck in my nose all of seventh period.”

Jeff listened as Preston moved closer. “You having problems in there?” He banged the door.

If they catch me, I’m dead! The radiating pain made his eyes roll back. What the hell is going on?

Preston’s voice lowered, and he bent down. “Whose shoes am I gonna see when—” The tardy bell clamored overhead, and he snapped. “Shit, man. We gotta go. McMahan will give me a week’s detention if I’m late again.” He punched the door. “It’s your lucky day, jerk!”

Jeff waited until the bathroom door closed before releasing a stifled groan. It . . . hurts . . . so . . . much! He slid off his backpack and hung it on a door hook, then rolled up his sleeve. He almost fainted when he saw his skin.

My arm! He rubbed the sore area above his bicep, and prickly hairs brushed his fingertips. Discolored skin felt different from the rest of his arm. Did I bruise it? Where did those hairs come from?

The second bell rang. Shit! That’s the second time I’m late today! He snatched his bag and burst from the stall, apologizing to his bladder. As he rushed toward the door, he caught sight in the mirror and realized he’d forgotten to roll down his sleeve. He covered the skin with his shirt, then he was outside in the deserted hall.

Jeff slid inside the art room and sent up a prayer of thanks as the door closed behind him, quiet enough to avoid drawing attention. The teacher was discussing Renaissance art with her back to the class when he settled in.

“So nice of you to join us, Jeff.” Her eyes remained on the whiteboard. “I trust your lack of punctuality won’t become the new norm?”

Jeff lowered his head to the snickers around him. “No, ma’am.”

She didn’t hassle him further, but Jeff couldn’t shake the feeling that she and the others sensed something was wrong. He placed a hand over his arm and prayed it was all in his head.

***

“So, how was it?” As they walked, Jeff adjusted the shoulder strap on his backpack to keep it from brushing his arm. The late afternoon sun soothed the tension in his neck. He wasn’t sure if it was the heat of the day or nerves that caused sweat to trickle down his spine.

“You mean my first day?” Aarav kicked a pebble that bounced three times then rolled into a storm drain.

“Was it everything you hoped for?” Jeff stared at his own feet when he walked.

“It was good.” Aarav looked ahead. He appeared so confident each step would land where it should. His mouth turned up at the corner. “I made a new friend.”

A surge of heat coursed through Jeff, this time not from the sun. “Me too.” His feelers wobbled.

A vulture circled the sky overhead.

“So, what’s the deal with that jerk today?” Aarav hooked a thumb in his jeans as he walked.

“Preston?” Jeff shook his head. “He’s a first-class pain in the ass.”

The vulture took a dive.

“Rumor has it his dad hits him. This one time, he caught Preston looking at dirty magazines and beat him so hard, Preston ran away. That’s what I heard in the locker room, anyway.”

“No one called the police or child services?” The concern in Aarav’s voice showed Jeff his compassion. But compassion and Preston didn’t belong together in the same conversation.

“I don’t know.” Jeff almost felt guilty for not showing the same care. Almost, but not quite. “I never bothered finding out. He eventually came back.”

Aarav sighed. “There’s at least one at every school. My last school had a bad one. I honestly don’t think there was a single day during the school year he wasn’t given detention for something.”

“How many schools have you been to?”

“Nine, including this one.” The words carried no animosity. His tone suggested it was something he’d come to terms with long ago.

Still, Jeff couldn’t help wondering how he’d feel moving around like that. This was the only home he’d ever known. Hell, he’d never spent much time outside his own neighborhood. “Wow! Do you ever get tired of moving?”

“Sure. It’d be nice to stay in one place for longer than a few months, but it’s just how it is.” For the first time, Aarav looked down at his feet. “My dad doesn’t like staying in one place for too long.”

“Why’s that?” His change in demeanor intrigued Jeff.

“My father uses a town up then spits it out if it doesn’t meet his standards. So far, they’ve all failed. He’s a very . . . dogmatic man. He wants things the way he wants them, and if they don’t live up to the expectation, well . . . next city, here we come.”

“That must be exhausting. I’ve lived here my entire life, and I’ve still never made a friend.” He looked sideways at the boy next to him. “Until today, that is.”

The boys moved onto the sidewalk as a car approached, and Jeff was about to ask a follow-up question, when the car’s window rolled down, and a girl with curly blond hair stuck her head out. “Go back to the circus, creep!” She threw an empty soda can.

Pain radiated through Jeff’s arm, but he pushed it aside, hoping Aarav hadn’t noticed. He picked up the can, aiming for the trunk of the car, but Aarav took his hand.

“She’s not worth it.” There was solemnity in his eyes. With Aarav’s palm resting over his knuckles, Jeff’s skin hummed. The rage disappeared. Aarav took the can and tossed it in a metal dumpster.

Damn, the pain is back. He massaged the spot but focused on Aarav.

“This is my house.” Aarav pointed to a blue bungalow with bright green and white trim.

A man in a tan collared shirt and black jeans faced away from the boys, trimming the hedges.

“Oh, we’re already here?” The disappointment in Jeff’s voice was obvious, and he tried to compensate. “I mean, I didn’t realize we’d already walked that far.”

“It was a nice walk. Thank you for keeping me from getting lost in a new neighborhood.”

Jeff slid his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t do anything. You seem to know the area already.”

“Yes, well, the company was nice.”

Something brushed against Jeff’s leg, and he startled. The Persian cat from earlier made figure eights around his feet while purring.

“Oh, hey!” Jeff said, bending down and scratching the cat between the ears. “I know you.”

Aarav smiled. “That’s Pakora.”

“This is your cat?” Jeff stared up at him, and Pakora scampered away.

“She came with us from Oregon. We’ve had her since I can remember. She’s been my one constant friend throughout my life.”

“Well,” Jeff stood. “Hopefully, that will change. Now you have me.” He grinned and didn’t even try to stop his feelers from shifting.

The hedge trimmer grumbled to a halt. The man faced them and adjusted a setting on the blade. Jeff waved, but he just wiped his forearm across his bald head to rid it of sweat and returned to his duties.

“Is that your dad?” Jeff asked.

“It is.” Aarav patted him on the shoulder. “I’d better be getting along. I’ll see you in school Monday.”

Jeff’s eyes sparkled. It’s now or never. “Hey, since tomorrow’s Saturday, do you wanna hang out? I mean, we live so close to each other.” He hesitated. “I mean . . . only if you want to. Don’t feel obligated or . . . ”

“Jeff.” Aarav silenced him with a wink. “I’d like that.” He glanced over at Mr. Jain, who was now watching them. “Meet me outside the school tomorrow at noon. At the gazebo off the basketball courts.”

“The school?” Jeff frowned. “Why don’t I just meet you here? I’m two blocks away.”

Aarav looked back at his dad and shuffled his feet. “The school at noon, okay?” He punctuated the question with a smile.

Jeff searched the boy’s face for clues. “Sure,” he said, figuring he’d learn more tomorrow. “The school it is.” They parted ways, but before Aarav had crossed the lawn, Jeff called after him. “What was his name?”

Aarav stopped. “Sorry?”

“The bully at your last school. The one like Preston.” Jeff shrugged. “What was his name?”

Aarav shrugged. “It wasn’t important enough to learn. I rarely bother with names, as we don’t stick around for long.” Aarav turned and walked away. “Goodbye, Jeff Pritchet.”

The sun was still out, but for the remaining two blocks home, Jeff danced on clouds, ignorant to the fact that he would never experience this happiness again.