I turned away, acting as if I hadn’t seen her at all. I had too much to think about. Ezra had been through so much already today. What if Muncie said something? I didn’t want to tangle with her. We hadn’t made eye contact. I thought it would be all right.

But it wasn’t.

Twenty-Three

Flying down the road, I barely caught the bus the next morning.

Muncie spread her backpack across the entire seat, making it clear I wouldn’t be joining her.

I moved to the back.

Rudie Barrie, a seventh grader, climbed on and Muncie made room for her. Muncie and Rudie kept a steady conversation going the whole way to school.

Leave it alone, I thought, leave it alone. But I couldn’t leave it.

“Hi,” I said, sliding into the seat behind them. The bus bumped over the frost-heaved road.

“Hi, Nyle,” Rudie said, glancing back. Usually eighth graders had nothing to do with kids from seventh.

Muncie didn’t turn around. I could feel the stiff line of her shoulders.

“Supposed to be a big storm coming this afternoon. Maybe they’ll call school tomorrow,” I said.

“Wouldn’t break my heart,” said Rudie.

“Mine either,” I said.

“Who cares,” Muncie said. “Who cares about your heart?”

“Maybe no one,” I said softly.

“Then quit breathing down my neck,” Muncie said. “I mean it.”

“I only wanted to say hello.”

“Well, you said it.”

Muncie rounded her shoulders like a short blue wall. Rudie looked uncomfortable. She got up and moved a couple seats away.

I leaned forward, smelling the metal rail along the top of the bus seat.

Muncie drew tighter into herself.

“Muncie, listen,” I said.

“I’m a captive audience, aren’t I?”

“His name is Ezra, Ezra Trent. He’s one of the evacuees. He and his mother had nowhere to go after the accident. Gran asked them to stay with us. He was sick. Really sick. His father died from the radiation. The thing is, Munce, I wanted to help. He’s just a regular kid. I wished so many times you could meet him and see for yourself. See that he wasn’t a mutant or anything.”

I slid my lip under my upper teeth and sighed. “Muncie, you’re my best friend. And I don’t want to lose you. But I like spending time with him, too. He’s not a freak, and he’s not going to make anybody sick.”

The bus ground up the last hill, pulled in at the circular driveway in front of school, and chattered to a stop.

Muncie gathered her things; I followed her off the bus, followed her out of the line.

“Nyle Sumner. How can you say you’re my best friend? You had him at your house all this time. You never said anything.”

“I couldn’t. You were afraid of him.”

Kids filed past, glancing over, curious.

“I thought you were different from other people. I thought you knew me, understood me. If you knew me, really knew me, you wouldn’t have kept him a secret.”