I went to math and then language arts and we got tests back and both teachers gave me this look, like they were impressed. Mr. Woo, who is our language arts teacher, said, “Impressive work, Rodney,” when he handed mine back. That was great because he’s young and looks sort of like a poet who is also a rapper, if you know what I mean. He’s got an earring and tattoos on one arm and he wears nice sneakers and he cares about language arts and students. Unlike Mrs. Russo, Mr. Woo is totally Circle Square material.

I was hanging out at lunch with Dave and Rigmor under the overhang between the buildings. My lunch was tasty, and I was still in a solid green zone situation.

My mom was right. It was all going to blow over.

Then Macii, who missed the morning because she had to go to the dentist, showed up.

She makes me nervous even though she speaks very, very quietly. There’s just something about how she looks at me and how she talks about other people. She wraps her meanness in nice-girl wrapping paper, if you get my drift. Sort of like Breonnie Pickle at Circle Square. She smiles, and her voice is so soft that it takes a while to notice how much her words hurt.

When she came outside, she didn’t say hi. I was showing Dave how to do this wooden 3-D puzzle thing that he got for his birthday. It’s pretty hard, but I’m good at puzzles. I didn’t pay attention to Macii. She went right over to Rigmor and started whispering. As usual.

But something in the air changed. It went a little yellow.

“What are you guys whispering about?” asked Dave.

I looked up.

Rigmor and Macii were staring. At me.

“What?” I said.

“What’s your last name?” asked Macii, in her mean little voice.

I cleared my throat. “Garzi,” I said.

“Really?” said Macii, in an extra softly mean voice. “Is that your only last name?”

I felt my eyes start to blink. I put the wood puzzle on the bench. Now they were all staring at me.

“Yes,” I said.

“Really?” said Macii. She was so sweet, I felt like I might get sick.

“Stop saying that,” said Rigmor, who actually is nice, and who has a proper voice that doesn’t sound like it’s coming out of a squirrel made of sugar.

Macii held up her phone. “So your last name isn’t Crederman? And Jeremy Crederman the poker player isn’t your dad?”

What’s yellower than yellow? The sun? Death? That’s the shade of yellow I was.

Was I supposed to lie?

But I didn’t get a chance to say anything.