Ms. Wakely, the guidance secretary, didn’t waste any time filling up my free period. This year had been the first and probably last time I’d sign up to be her assistant, even if I weren’t leaving Woodvine. She was nice enough, but there just wasn’t anything to do. The tedium made the last period of the day drag on forever.

But things had changed during the final weeks of school, sending Ms. Wakely into a frenzy. She was swamped with requests from college admission offices. There was always a stack of paperwork waiting for me on the former church pew that served as my desk. I spent two periods a day stuffing and sealing envelopes or running stacks of letters through the postage machine. It was tedious work, and I thought I’d never catch up. The days ran together as my junior year dragged to a close.

As I sat on the pew one afternoon, stuffing what seemed to be the thousandth transcript into a manila envelope, my thoughts drifted to James as they usually did. Since my return, I’d found myself more and more preoccupied with whatever he might be doing at any given moment. Was he safe? Was he eating? How was he sleeping? How was his father?

Because of this, I didn’t notice when the boy walked into the office.

“You’re here to register?” Ms. Wakely incredulously asked. “There’s what, fifteen days of school left?”

“My parents are very keen on education,” said a deep voice. “They’re making me officially finish the eleventh grade.”

Curious, I glanced up to see the poor soul whose parents insisted on transferring him so late in the year. The pages fell from my hand like a paper waterfall, scattering when they hit the slick tile floors.

“Let me,” Knox said.

Ms. Wakely sighed loudly. “Well, there’s no time today to start your paperwork. We’ll have to go through it on Monday.” She pointed at me. “Leath can take you on a tour so you’ll know where everything is. Take your things, Leath. You won’t have time to come back here before the final bell.” She turned her attention to a stack of papers on her desk and began stamping them, leaving a bright red smudge on the right corner of each page.

Knox opened the office door before turning back to me. “Are you coming?”

I snagged my book bag off the floor, and pushed past him. “I’m supposed to be giving you the tour,” I said. We stepped into the hallway. I spun around so quickly that Knox backed into a wall of lockers. Moving within a few inches of him, I studied his face, trying to decide if he brought good or bad news with him.

“I’m flattered, but James is a friend of mine,” Knox said, grinning.