David pointed at the teacher. “Mrs. Hayes told me this was—”

“Nathan?” the teacher said. “You’re over here, right next to my desk.”

The boy frowned and picked up his lunch box. “Thanks a lot,” he said.

David picked up the scent of sausage from the boy’s breath. And there was something about the way he charged to the other side of the room that made David feel unsettled. He seemed the type of kid who might be a bully. His dad had warned him about them. But there was something else. This Nathan seemed so sure of himself. Confident. And David wanted to be confident instead of the way he was. He wasn’t sure what to call that, but it was anything but confident.

At lunch, Mrs. Hayes led her class to the gym that was also the auditorium and the cafeteria. David took a tray from the shelf and carefully walked to the long table where Mrs. Hayes stood. On the stage at the front, a group of sixth graders stood on risers with the music teacher at the piano. They practiced a song they would later sing at an assembly.

The redheaded kid, Nathan, barreled through the doors, grabbing a carton of milk and dropping his metal lunch box loudly next to David. He sat, the table bouncing with the intensity of his descent, and in one motion he opened the lunch box and dumped the contents in front of him.

“I’m on a special diet,” he said. “I can’t eat the stuff they serve here.”

David wasn’t sure if he was talking to him or the kids across the table.

When Nathan took a bite of his sandwich, he turned and noticed the sixth graders onstage. “Hey, look, food and entertainment,” he said, his mouth full.

David glanced at the kid and though he tried hard not to, he smiled. Then he chuckled and tried to turn it into a cough. He didn’t want to be near a bully.

“I’m Nate,” the kid said. “Don’t call me Nathan. What’s your name?”

A hesitation. “David.”

“David what?”

“Colton.”

Nate put out a pudgy hand. “Nice to meet you, fellow prisoner.”

David shook his hand limply, unlike how his dad had taught him.

Nate stared at the end of the table. Then he leaned over and whispered, “Have you noticed how shiny her forehead is?”

David shrugged.

“My dad can’t get that much shine when he waxes his car. Seriously, she came over to my desk and I could see myself, like in a mirror.”

David went back to his lunch. Nate talked so fast, almost faster than David could think.

“Look, I’m sorry about the desk and all. They put me next to the teacher’s desk in kindergarten and I didn’t want to go through that again.”

“Why do you have to sit close to the teacher?”