He glanced up at Cade with surprise, then swiftly swept it into the wastebasket.
“A letter home,” Daniels said, shaking his head. “Maybe save that for rec time, Carter?”
“Yes … Mr. Daniels,” Cade said, bowing his head.
He spent the next few minutes with his eyes fixed straight ahead, ignoring the curious stares of the other students around him.
It was pure, unadulterated relief when the bell rang, and Cade and the others lined up in the corridor outside the classroom. Teachers barked orders, but by now Cade knew the routine. He stepped into the tight, three-person-wide formation and began to march at their command.
That was how they always walked between classes, and soon they were left in the rec room, a crowded space full of noisy students and tables and chairs along with a television, foosball table, and several stacks of old comics.
Cade didn’t spend much time here, though. It was a minefield, where one wrong move could earn resentment from other kids and, by proxy, their friends. Usually he retreated to the library, a far quieter area. Given the choice between fear or boredom, he always chose the latter.
“All right, boys, let’s have a look at Cade’s letter home to Mommy,” a voice called out.
Cade spun around in horror, only to see his essay being waved in the air by Finch. Gobbler swaggered beside him, his deep-set eyes daring Cade to provoke him.
Clearly, Finch had fished the paper out of the wastebasket in class. Already, a crowd had gathered around him.
Even as Cade made to leave, Finch unfolded the paper and cleared his throat as the others laughed and gathered to listen.
“Dear Mommy,” he began in an exaggerated tone before turning his eyes to the writing at the top of the page. “The Black Friday stock market collapse of 1929 set off a global…”
He stopped, confused. The room fell silent, and Cade seethed with fear. This was far worse than Daniels reading it in class.
“Hold up,” Finch said, scratching his head. “You were writing this … for fun?”
Cade snatched at the paper, but Finch held it out of reach.
“I’m just trying to learn,” Cade replied. “Like everyone else.”
“No, not like everyone else,” Finch said, holding the paper higher as Cade jumped for it. “You don’t see us writing this crap, rich boy.”
The onlookers laughed, and Cade cringed. His parents had never been rich.
“I’ve seen you avoiding us, all high and mighty. You think you’re better than us, Apu?”
Cade backed away with his palms raised.
“I’m just—I’m trying to get by, like everyone else,” Cade said.
“Listen to him. ‘Get by’?” Finch put on a pompous British accent, though Cade sounded nothing like it. “Why’d your parents send you here; you not clean your room?”
“Nah, man, he forgot to mow the lawn,” Gobbler chimed in.
More laughter.
“I got done for grand theft,” Cade snapped.
That shut them up. But even as he said it, he realized it was a mistake.
“Yo,” another boy said, a pasty-faced boy. “Man thinks he’s gangster.”
“Watch out, boys.” Finch laughed. “Apu here’s a kingpin.”
“King Apu,” someone yelled.
“Bow to His Majesty,” said another, bending in mock reverence.
Finch bowed too, letting the essay fall to the ground. Cade backed away, stuttering denials and shaking his head. Finally, Finch turned around, distracted by a shout from someone across the room. It was his turn on the foosball table. Just like that, the crowd began to disperse, the afternoon’s entertainment seemingly over.
Cade fought back bitter tears and sought refuge somewhere else. He couldn’t leave—most of the onlookers were now leaning against the wall by the door. But there was a line of ragged armchairs up against one wall. Usually these were occupied, but today they were mostly empty, perhaps because of the kid sitting among them, reading a magazine.
Eric. He ate alone, and spoke to nobody, not even during rec time. He simply glowered at anyone who came near him, and few did.
After all, he was a veritable giant, lifting weights in the gym and standing several inches above Cade’s own five-foot-eight frame. No one wanted to mess with him.
At this point, Cade didn’t care. He threw himself into the seat farthest away from the boy. Only, instead of glaring, Eric gave him a level look. Was that sympathy in his eyes? Before Cade could decide, Eric turned back to his reading.
Cade was glad to have not annoyed him, but even so, his hands shook with frustration. King Apu. His new nickname.
Someone tapped his shoulder. Cade looked up, preparing himself for another barrage of insults, but instead found himself face-to-face with a short, stout kid with glasses so thick they looked like the bottoms of soda bottles. Cade knew him by his nickname: Spex, though he knew from the teachers calling on him that his real name was Carlos. He held out Cade’s essay.
Cade took it and stuffed it into his pocket.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
Spex sat down next to him. Even the librarians called him that, and Cade often saw him reading the same book: Guinness World Records.
Cade wondered why he’d come to talk to him. After this, nobody would want to be caught dead with him. But then, he’d seen Finch haranguing Spex too.
“You’re really here for grand theft?” Spex asked.
“Yeah,” Cade said. “Doesn’t mean I did it.”
Spex nodded contemplatively. Cade hesitated, then finally found the courage to speak.
“My roommate stole a dozen laptops from my school. He must have kept them hidden under my bed, because the school found them during a room inspection. Called the police right away.”
“Did you tell them it wasn’t you?” Spex asked.
“I did. But my roommate’s family was rich, you know? Donors to the school. Why would he steal the laptops? He didn’t need the money. But me? A poor kid on a scholarship? I got expelled right away.”
“That sucks, man,” Spex said.
Cade had loved that school. Then the laptops had been found. Everyone had believed it so … easily. Nobody expressed surprise. Their assumptions about him had been lurking just beneath the surface.
“The police said they found my fingerprints all over them,” Cade went on. “And stupid me, I believed them. You know the police can lie to get a confession?”
Spex shrugged.
“My parents tried to fight it, but they were in shock. Couldn’t believe I might have done something like this. They told me to do whatever the lawyer said,” Cade went on. “Only that crappy, overworked public defender couldn’t be bothered to take it to court. He said if I pleaded guilty, the judge would take pity on me.”
Cade cringed at the memory of it.
“The laptops were expensive—it was grand theft, a felony. So the judge said I had to come here for a year, or he’d send me to juvie.”
Spex shook his head.
“Man, you got screwed. But hey, this place is better than juvie.”
Cade nodded dully.
“What about you?”
“Forgot to clean my room.” Spex winked, the gesture all the more noticeable behind his magnified glasses.