form of taunts, threats, and violence from the first day. What going through the list did was point me to the underclassmen and seniors that weren’t in my classes. It also gave me the exact number of OB kids I needed to focus on because the attackers couldn’t be Raveners.
Those from the Estate lost a lot of money and suffered hits to their businesses. But none lost their homes, family, college fund, or everything they worked for in a single night. Someone who did would feel the empathy-deadening rage necessary to put their hands on a defenseless fourteen-year-old kid.
The bell rang, pulling me out of my head.
I survived first period and walked into English literature cursing the amount of physics homework weighing down my backpack.
“Mr. Geske.” I slowed down before his desk. “For the final essay, can we do it on one of the books you assigned?”
Geske beamed. “Enjoying Of Mice and Men?”
“I am, surprisingly. There’s so much I could write about. Mental illness, poverty, or discrimination.”
“You certainly could and that’s what we plan to discuss today,” he replied. “Unfortunately, you must pick a book we haven’t discussed for the final essay. I look forward to hearing your thoughts this class.”
I continued on to my seat. Bending over, I dropped my backpack behind my desk and glanced up just as Hiro looked away. I lingered, gazing at him since he was looking at me. He turned back and a spark zapped the air and went up the spines of everyone in the room. That’s what it felt like.
Hiro and I had been doing that a lot lately. Trading glances in class, in the cafeteria, and when I hung out with Royal in their bedroom. It meant something; however, my mind didn’t let me sink too deeply into what. Before he was hurt, Hiro bounced between glares that singed my eyebrows off and ignoring my existence. His expression held neither of those emotions these days.
“Morning, class.”
“Morning, Mr. Geske.”
“I hope you carved out time to do the reading over your break,” he said. “First up, a little question and answer. No tricks. If you read the book, you know the answer.”
Geske picked random students, rapid-firing questions about Lenny, Curley, George, Jim Crow, and the Great Depression. We all survived the first portion, so Geske moved on to the next.
“Your assignment is to create a character web,” said Geske. “Using proof from the reading to support your conclusions, you’ll show how each character is connected to each other and how that connection influences their actions. I’ll pass out butcher paper and you can use the markers, colored pencils, and materials from the back. These webs will be hung up and used as a model for future character webs.” He swept his hand back and forth. “Partner with your row.”
Clay and Hiro pushed their seats over to mine. We focused on the work. Clay and I tossed the characters back and forth while Hiro sketched out the web, writing in surprisingly sophisticated penmanship.
“Nice handwriting,” I said.
Hiro didn’t look up from what he was doing. “I took lessons.”
“You did?”
“Extra classes after school,” he explained. “My English had to be perfect. Reading. Listening. Speaking. Writing.”
“You spoke Japanese first.”
He nodded.
“How old were you?”
“Six.”
Short clipped answers, but he was talking to me. Telling me about the mystery that was his life before we met.
“Fluent in two languages by six. You make a girl feel like a slacker.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Says the girl who knows English and sign language.”
“And Spanish,” I threw in.
He chuckled. “I doubt anyone calls you a slacker.”
“Guys, I’ll do Curley’s wife,” Clay spoke up. “Pass me the orange.”
Hiro and I reached for the marker at the same time. His fingers grazed mine and I jumped like static shock passed between us. We both pulled back quick.
“Hiro,” Clay prompted. “The orange.”
Hiro reached for it alone and handed it to Clay. At the end of class, he took off without pausing to push his desk where it belonged.
I watched him go feeling ten kinds of emotions and all of them a variation of confused. Attraction brewed between us, yet Hiro held back. Because of my parents, our history, or his not-girlfriend Mallory, he wasn’t going there with me.
Could it be because of the boys? He believes he has to back off?
I dismissed the thought from the boys’ end. They got possessive over my platonic friendship with Brandon and Gabriel plucking leaves out of my hair. But Royal didn’t blink at me holding Hiro’s