It’s different from my old school, lighter and friendlier instead of red-bricked and suffocating. And the teacher who meets us is super keen and cringey.

“Mrs. Pearce,” he says, “this is Tom. He’ll be showing you around this morning.”

Mum smiles, squeezes my hand like a warning and says, “Pleased to meet you.”

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Mum speaks for me, and it feels obvious that she’s hiding something because who talks like that? She’s too eager and too fake, but the boy doesn’t know that. He smiles and nods like this is a totally normal conversation.

I guess we all have our secrets, because it looks as if he’s carrying a lot more than his backpack.

His name is Tom, and he’s not the type you’d normally expect to do a school tour. Nervous energy comes off him in waves and crashes into my own. A few times, he catches my eye, but I’m scared what he’ll see if he looks too deep. So I stare at the ground.

Something about him is different. He’s weighed down.

He looks like he used to be broken. He looks like me.

I was scared everyone here would be like everyone at St. Gregory’s. I thought I’d be the weird one from my very first day because I’m tired of faking it so I don’t even try. But maybe I don’t have to.

Back in the car, Mum says, “What did you think?”

“It’s different.”

“It’s your only choice,” Mum says, but she doesn’t look mean. She looks like she’s worried about me.

I think back to the day I got into the Academy and how proud my parents were. Will wasn’t sure why we were celebrating, but he was the keenest of all. And then we went to the castle, and that was maybe our last perfect day.

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My brother and Logan used to be the only boys I thought about, but not anymore.

Tom’s face floats through my mind, over and over, but what I see isn’t good. I see sorrow and doubt and insecurity. He has my reflection, and I want to know him, so I do something I haven’t done for a long time. I try to make a friend.

It’s not easy to cover all your cracks, but I don’t want to be alone in this school too. There’s something in Tom’s eyes that gives me the courage to try, so, when my guidance counselor mentions this buddy thing, I ask for him. She says, “We don’t usually get requests. Do you know each other?”

“Not yet,” I say.

She smiles. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Whatever she does, it works, but Tom looks at me like I’m weird.