Nova could already smell bacon, the scent wafting up through the air vent in the floor. Her tummy growled. She pictured Billy at the stove, flipping flapjacks. He liked to cook, especially unhealthy things his wife wouldn’t make for him. He was supposed to be watching his weight, she’d said.

“But I have a sweet tooth!” he’d said.

Nova didn’t know whether any of her teeth were sweet too, but she did enjoy the red velvet cupcakes Billy had let her help frost last weekend.

Francine helped Nova into one of the outfits they’d picked out on Saturday, a pair of blue denim overalls with a pocket in front over a long-sleeved midnight-blue shirt with silver dots that looked like distant stars. Nova let Francine brush her hair, even though she hated to have her hair brushed. Francine plaited it in two thick braids, which she called “just darling.” Nova scowled. She did not want to be darling.

“Remember, they’ll bring you to the bathroom before lunch and again at the end of the day, but if you have to go when it’s not time, try to get Mrs. Pierce’s attention, okay? I told her you might need help with the overalls. A teacher’s helper will be with you at all times. I packed extra clothes in case you have an accident.”

Nova’s face reddened. She hadn’t had an accident in school in two whole years and didn’t plan to have one on the first day at Jefferson Middle either.

“All right, Nova?” asked Francine. She pressed her palm to Nova’s forehead. Nova pulled away.

“Pancakes are ready!” Billy called up from the kitchen.

Nova forgot about feeling upset. She hurried down to the kitchen. Joanie was already settled at the table, swirling crispy bacon in Mrs. Butterworth’s. Nova took her usual place at the table, suddenly starving.

“I’ll tape The Little Prince on the VCR for you,” said Joanie, smiling. “Would you like that? We can watch it when you get home, ’kay?”

Even though she would like that, Nova did not answer “Kay-kay.” She was too nervous to talk.

An hour later, Nova found herself drowning in a sea of students. With everyone else around, the halls of Jefferson Middle School didn’t seem so wide and welcoming. Too many competing sounds, too many unfamiliar smells, too many bodies bumping into each other. It was exactly like every other school. She should’ve known it would be. Francine guided her to the special education classroom at the end of the hall, as planned. Covering her ears while she walked, Nova felt like a dog being led to the back room of a pound. She’d seen Lady and the Tramp. She knew how it worked. Bridget had told her. “The pound’s back room is where they go to die.”