Maybe it was a reporter. I would rather be at school than talk to one of them.

I punched 9-1-1 into my phone and held my finger right over the Call button. The door doesn’t even have a peephole!

“Hello?” I said, and I made my voice all low and mature and not like the voice of someone who would be easy to kill.

“You home?”

It was not a smart question. Obviously, whoever was answering the door was home. Obviously, whoever was at the door was not a genius.

“Who’s asking?” I said, and I felt like I was in one of those old movies my dad watches about tough guys who never say more than three words, all of them rude.

“It’s Ben. Chum’s here too.”

“Don’t call me Chum,” I heard another voice say.

“What are you guys doing here?” I asked. For some reason, I felt nervous to have them here even though they are sort of friends.

“You’re not at school,” said Ben.

“Neither are you,” I said.

“We got an idea.” Fisherman’s voice. Now I was really scared. Fisherman didn’t seem like an ideas man to me.

“You going to let us in?” asked Ben.

I stood right next to the locked door with them on the other side. The little house felt safe, which was strange because I don’t even like it that much and would rather be back in our old house in my old life. In how things used to be.

But then I remembered that nowhere was safe and that our old life was gone. I opened the door.

Ben stood in the doorway. He was exactly half as wide as Fisherman.

“Why aren’t you guys in school?” I asked.

“Needed a day off,” said Ben, like every second day wasn’t a day off for him thanks to his sports.

“I’m here ’cause there’s a test,” said Fisherman. “In English. No thank you.”

They didn’t ask me why I wasn’t in school. I suppose they knew.

I wondered why Ben and his dad and brothers didn’t just go back to Canada. I would go to Canada if someone asked me. But not the cold part. Does Canada have warm parts? I should find out. I kept my questions to myself.

“You want to come in?” I asked, even though I really didn’t want them to. I’d have been embarrassed for anyone from back home to see how small and old this house is. But I’d seen where Ben lives, and something told me that Fisherman’s house isn’t that great either. My mom would have a freak if I had people over while she was away.

“Nah,” said Fisherman. “We’re going to the ranch.”

“His uncle has a ranch,” said Ben. “It’s called Rancho Socorro.”