“Look, there’s lots of kids who want bagging jobs. Wasn’t too long ago that I had a problem getting anybody to apply. Times are different nowadays. I got too many on hand as of now. And working in the Farmstand is out of the question. You gotta work your way up. All I can do is keep your application on file.”

“I’m a hard worker,” Thomas said.

“That’s good to hear. I got some real lazy ones. So you never know. I’ll keep you in mind.”

“Thank you,” Thomas said.

“Where are you going to school?”

“Greer.”

“Like it there?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Thomas didn’t want to tell the truth.

The truth didn’t need telling. The truth was spattered across his basketball shoes.

“Why are you applying now? Why didn’t you apply back in summer?”

He had spent this summer working at the Sinclair farm. The same Sinclair who owned their trailer. It had been a good-paying job that he’d hoped he could keep through the school year. But once winter came, there wasn’t as much to do.

“I moved here from out of state,” he said for an easy explanation even though it had been almost a year since moving.

Mr. Chandler stared at him a second, and Thomas could see it in his eyes. He’d seen this look before on some of the teachers’ faces. It was the same look one gave to a dirty, lost puppy wandering the street.

After saying good-bye, Thomas left the store. He knew that if he stuck around, he might be tempted to buy something. And the five bucks he had on hand was the only money he had until next week when he worked at the Parker residence again. The Parkers were an older couple down the road who had hired him to clean up their backyard, which had ten years’ worth of junk behind it. He’d already spent some of his money on the pizza for Thanksgiving. His remaining five bucks could go in a blink, so it was best that he got away from temptation.

He thought of Mr. Chandler’s question about liking school. He wished he’d thought of something witty to say. Sara always seemed to have funny comebacks. Thomas had a hard time remembering a joke, much less saying something clever. When Sara wasn’t acting her age, she had a funny, quirky way about her.

“I like school about as much as canned beets,” his sister might have said.

She wouldn’t say something that normal. She would have said something more unusual, more memorable.

Some people in life just aren’t that memorable.

He thought back to his shoes and wished he could fall in that category, the overlooked and ignored one. But high school boys could be mean, Thomas knew. Bored high school boys could be downright vicious. And bored high school boys who also happened to be looking for trouble—well, those were the ones Thomas knew could be deadly.

Some might call them stupid rednecks, but then again, I might be lumped into that category.