why you don't like me, Cary Logan, and the truth is, I
don't care to know. If that's the way it has to be, that's
the way it has to be, but don't think I'll let you ridicule
me or say bad things about the people I love." He went from astonishment and shock to what
looked like appreciation and pleasure, before
returning to his stoic self.
"I can't be late for school," he said. "I already
have two demerits."
He walked on and I hurried to catch up. "You have two demerits? What for?"
He was silent.
"What did you do?" I pursued, keeping pace
with him. I was curious what possible infraction of the
rules Mr. Perfect could have committed.
"Fighting," he finally replied.
"I wonder why that comes as no surprise?" I
said. I couldn't resist.
He glared at me and I thought if looks could
kill, I'd be long dead and buried. Then he pumped his
legs harder, remaining a foot or two ahead of me the
rest of the way to school.
Theresa Patterson was friendly and spoke to me
between classes, but since she didn't have to be my
guide any longer, she stayed with her own friends.
She didn't have to say it, but I knew if she brought me
along, her friends might resent it. Just as in my
school, and probably in most schools, clumps of girls
and boys clung to each other in cliques, feeling safer
and more comfort-able hanging around with those
whom they perceived to be their own kind.
At lunch I sat at a table alone until Lorraine,