My mother dropped me off in front of a big brick building on the first day of school. She reached across and squeezed my shoulder, but I didn’t look at her.

All of my life, I was the strong and tough one. I was there to make sure that Franny was safe and protected. When she looked lost in her own head I always knew how to bring her back. Kids never bothered her because they knew if they did, I would find them after school. I did everything I could to make her feel like she was the same as everyone else. I played that role for so long, I almost forgot what it felt like to be standing alone in a crowd of kids, unknown and forgotten and having to start from the beginning.

I swung my backpack over one shoulder and ignored the uneven feeling it created. I held a blank notebook in front of my chest like a shield and walked the steps up and into the building.

Many of the kids turned and stared and then ignored me. This was a college town where parents taught for several semesters and then moved away; these kids were used to seeing families come and go. I was walking along in the hallway, lost in that noise that only happens in a school hallway, when I felt her next to me. She was walking beside me, her hair desperately trying to evade the rubber band she had chosen to contain it.

“Hi,” Lavi whispered. Her soft voice sailed over the chaos and settled effortlessly inside my ear. A half-smile shifted my tough girl look.

“We’re in the same homeroom. I’ll show you around.” She led me to a room at the end of the hallway, and I sat down and slid my backpack underneath my seat. Lavi was whispering to the girl behind her, so I busied myself with decoding the scribbles on my desk as though they were ancient hieroglyphics. I learned that Nicole loves Danny, that Stephanie sucks, and that Joey is #1. I looked up just as a man shuffled in with a beaten up leather bag and an attendance book under one arm.

From the neck up, Mr. West looked menacing. From the neck down, he looked absurd. His scalp was completely shaven and his handlebar mustache was dyed jet black to match his shiny black goatee. This terrifying-looking head sat on a body that resembled an enormous egg that narrowed at the neck, exploded at the waistline, and tapered again at the ankles. I was mesmerized. The other children quieted down upon his arrival.

“We’ve gone over this. Silence—that is what I demand when I walk into a room. You will respond only when your name is called. As you know, if you respect me and obey my rules, we will not have any problems.”